Duke of Honor, page 1
Duke of Honor
Dukes of Distinction
Book 5
Alexa Aston
© Copyright 2021 by Alexa Aston
Text by Alexa Aston
Cover by Wicked Smart Designs
Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.
P.O. Box 7968
La Verne CA 91750
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Produced in the United States of America
First Edition May 2021
Kindle Edition
Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.
All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Additional Dragonblade books by Author Alexa Aston
Dukes Done Wrong Series
Discouraging the Duke
Dukes of Distinction Series
Duke of Renown
Duke of Charm
Duke of Disrepute
Duke of Arrogance
Duke of Honor
The St. Clairs Series
Devoted to the Duke
Midnight with the Marquess
Embracing the Earl
Defending the Duke
Suddenly a St. Clair
Starlight Night
Soldiers & Soulmates Series
To Heal an Earl
To Tame a Rogue
To Trust a Duke
To Save a Love
To Win a Widow
The Lyon’s Den Connected World
The Lyon’s Lady Love
King’s Cousins Series
The Pawn
The Heir
The Bastard
Medieval Runaway Wives
Song of the Heart
A Promise of Tomorrow
Destined for Love
Knights of Honor Series
Word of Honor
Marked by Honor
Code of Honor
Journey to Honor
Heart of Honor
Bold in Honor
Love and Honor
Gift of Honor
Path to Honor
Return to Honor
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Publisher’s Note
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Alexa Aston
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
About the Author
Prologue
Hardwell Hall, Dorset—June 1806
Sebastian Cooper, Marquess of Marbury, stood in front of the door to his mother’s rooms. After hesitating a moment, he pushed the door open and entered.
For the first time in eleven years.
The Duchess of Hardwick had died in these rooms. Sebastian had just turned ten and, as usual, his mother was with child. She had spent the decade after his birth being impregnated by her volatile, cruel husband. Each time, she had either miscarried or given birth to a stillborn child—then the process started all over again.
Sebastian recalled the last argument he had overhead between his parents. His father had berated his mother for her lack of providing him with more sons, calling her stupid and worthless. His mother, the gentlest of creatures, had actually snapped back at her much older, powerful husband. Sebastian couldn’t recall her exact words but what he did remember was the sound of the hard slap that quickly followed. As he ran into the room, he watched his mother’s head snap back. Seen his father’s palm print, a vivid red, imprinted on her pale cheek. Sebastian still felt the rage that rippled through him and remembered how he had run to the duke and attacked him, trying to protect his mother from further harm.
Hardwick had squashed his ten-year-old son like a bug. Slammed his fist into Sebastian’s nose, breaking it, then lifting him and smashing him against the wall. He could still hear his mother’s screams. Feel his arm crack. Taste the salt of tears and the tin of his blood that sprang forth as pain sizzled through him.
Hardwick immediately forbid his son to see his mother again after what he termed the incident. Those deadly words had rolled off the duke’s tongue with ease. Mama, who had run to Sebastian and cradled him in comfort, eased him to the ground. She ran to her husband and fell to her knees before him, begging he relent.
Dukes did not capitulate to sobbing wives, especially ones they loathed. Good as his word, Sebastian had been kept away from his mother the next five months. She died in childbirth and he had always blamed Hardwick for her death. Part of him believed she died of a broken heart, not being able to see her only child. At least the babe had died along with her. No other child would have to suffer under the duke’s heavy hand.
Sebastian had as little as possible to do with his father after her death. He had come to Mama’s rooms, where her lady’s maid had prepared her body, and kissed the cold, lifeless cheek. Then he had promised her he would be a good duke and a good father to his future children. The children he would have one day when he was duke and his father rotted in a grave, forgotten by everyone.
Especially his only son.
As the scene from his past faded, Sebastian walked through Mama’s sitting room, remembering happier times. He paused and closed his eyes and imagined her still being here. In this room where she had read to him. Played with him. Taught him good manners and right from wrong. The Duchess of Hardwick had molded her son’s character and made sure he knew how to practice kindness and humility. Mama had emphasized loyalty and patriotism and responsibility, telling him of the immense power he would one day possess as the Duke of Hardwick and how he must always use his position for good and take care of his people and others who were less fortunate.
He opened his eyes and continued into her large bedchamber, untouched since her death all those years ago. Opening the wardrobe where her gowns still hung, he buried his nose in the material, catching the faint scent of vanilla that still clung to the garment. A warmth rushed through him. Mama had been the reason he eagerly came home each school term. With her death, he found excuses to stay away from Hardwell Hall and often went home with friends during school holidays. On the rare occasions he came home, he avoided the duke like the plague.
Sighing, he steeled himself for the conversation he would now have with the man who had sired him. He would inform Hardwick of his plans to go away.
To war.
The duke would be livid. Sebastian was the heir apparent to a dukedom. The Marquess of Marbury. Men such as he didn’t join the military, much less fight in an endless war that saw no end in sight.
Closing the wardrobe, he went to his mother’s dressing table and opened a drawer. After searching a moment, he found the locket he had come for. Mama never took it off. He hadn’t recalled seeing it around her neck on the day she had been buried and hoped it would be in her rooms. He intended to carry it with him as he left England and entered the madness of Bonaparte’s war.
Slipping it into his pocket, he left the room and went downstairs. He found Radmore, the butler, who was new to the position but not the household.
“Where is His Grace?” he asked.
“In his study, my lord,” the butler replied, his expression bland as suited the position.
“ Thank you.”
Sebastian walked down the corridor feeling like a man going to his execution. He took a calming breath, knowing anything he did always met with disapproval from the duke and he shouldn’t be concerned about the upcoming tirade. Still, with trepidation, he rapped soundly on the door.
“Come.”
He opened the door and stepped inside. The duke sat at his desk, which was littered in papers. As Sebastian approached, he took in his father’s appearance for the first time in many years. At sixty-one, Hardwick was definitely showing signs of his age. His face was lined, deep crevices dug around his mouth. More lines sprang from the corners of his eyes. His hair, once dark, had gone iron gray. His body, once fit, now ran to fat.
The duke’s graying brows rose. “What do you want?”
He almost laughed aloud. They hadn’t spoken in years. “A brief audience, Your Grace.”
Hardwick’s mouth twitched in annoyance but he commanded, “Sit.”
Sebastian took a seat in the chair in front of the desk.
“I have finished university,” he began, trying to tamp down the nerves he felt in his man’s presence.
“Have you?” Hardwick’s tone almost mocked the accomplishment.
Sebastian had graduated with the highest of honors. He had been a model student, not carousing and drunk most of the time as many peers’ sons were during the time away from their families. He had been thirsty for knowledge and enjoyed his studies. He had also made wonderful friends in Jon and the Eton Three, as he and Jon had dubbed Andrew, George, and Weston. The five men became inseparable during their days at Cambridge. Until now. He and Andrew had decided to embark on military careers, while the others would take their seats in the House of Lords. It was Sebastian’s entry into the army that he would now reveal to the stranger who sat before him.
“Your Grace, I believe—”
“You do not need to believe anything,” Hardwick interrupted impatiently. “You are a marquess and my heir. You will believe what I want you to. I have let you play your little games all these years, Marbury. You have ignored me like a petulant child. Well, today you are a man and, by God, today you will—”
“As a man, I will form and cherish my own beliefs and make my own decisions,” Sebastian said firmly, courage blossoming within him. He was determined to stand up to the duke as he had never done before. “I have come to inform you of one of them.”
“Oh,” Hardwick snarled. “And what might that be?”
“I feel a strong sense of duty and loyalty to my country.”
“You should. This system will see you near the top of it one day. When I am gone and you are the new duke.”
“I plan to enter the military.”
The color drained from the duke’s face. “You will not,” he said, grounding out each word. “You are my heir. The heir to a dukedom. You won’t go and get yourself killed on a battlefield by some crazed French bastard. I forbid it.”
“It is not for you to say, Your Grace,” Sebastian said coolly. “I have already purchased my commission. I leave today. I am merely extending the courtesy of telling you farewell.” He stood, prepared to leave, not wanting to endure the barrage of curses to come.
“No!” Hardwick roared. “I won’t let you.”
“You didn’t let a small boy see his mother as she lay dying. For that, I will never forgive you.”
He frowned. “She was a disappointment to me. She was young and should have given me sons,” the duke declared.
“She was my mother. You berated her. You were cruel to her. You were a mature man of forty and she but an eighteen-year-old girl when you wed. You could have been kind to her. Showed her some compassion.”
The duke rose, his face darkening in anger. “Show her sympathy when she kept losing my babes? Wedding that woman was a waste. She only had the one viable child—you—and you are just like her. Soft and weak. You look just like her. It’s part of why I cannot stand the sight of you.”
He had known it all along. “Then I am doing you a favor by leaving, Your Grace. I do feel a duty toward you, being your own flesh and blood. I will write to you merely because Mama would have wished for me to do so.”
Hardwick slammed his fist onto the desk. “I won’t read any letters from an insolent, disobedient cur.”
Sebastian stiffened at the slur. “I will write them, nevertheless. And don’t worry. I have seen to hiring the appropriate people to manage my estates and holdings while I am away.”
A knowing light entered the duke’s eyes. “My brother put you up to this, didn’t he?”
“I did seek Uncle Sydney’s advice. He helped—”
“Oh, I am certain he did more than help. Sydney has wanted to become the Duke of Hardwick from the moment he emerged from the womb. He is ten years my junior and always thought he knew better than I did. Can’t you see, Marbury? Sydney wants you to be killed in action. That way, he would become my heir.”
Sebastian had never understood the animosity between the two brothers. He only knew his uncle had treated him with kindness over the years, a far cry from the duke’s behavior toward him.
“You actually believe your twisted lies.” He shook his head sadly. “I feel sorry for you, Hardwick.”
The duke glared at him. “You have no need to,” he said viciously. “My good friend, the Earl of Pendell, has just passed. He’s made me guardian to his thirteen-year-old child. Hadley is expected today. I will mold Hadley into my image. The Devil himself can take you, Marbury. Get out!”
“With pleasure.”
Sebastian left, anger rolling off him in waves. The meeting went as he had expected. His father would never understand Sebastian’s burning need to fight for England and a righteous cause. His mother would have. She had embedded the deep loyalty to country and his fellow man within her son. He paused and pulled the locket from his pocket. He would carry it into battle as his talisman. She would always be with him.
Going straight to the stables, he mounted his horse, which would be the only thing he took with him. Soon, he would be wearing his officer’s uniform.
Without a backward glance at his childhood home, he tore down the lane leading to the main road, only pausing at the end because of an approaching carriage. The vehicle slowed and he assumed as it turned beside him that it contained the child his father had become guardian to. He tamped down pity for the boy and turned east. His new regiment—and life—awaited him.
*
Lady Hadley Hampton tried very hard to hold her tears at bay. She might be thirteen but she still wanted her mother.
Even though she would never see Mama again.
She tried to push aside the image that lingered in her memory even after a month. Mama lying so still. Not breathing. Drained of color. She had been sick before but had always gotten better eventually. This time, though, the pneumonia claimed her.
It also took her father. He was old, though, and he had never spent much time with Hadley. In truth, he was so gruff that she had been more than a little bit frightened of him. She feared she would also be afraid of the Duke of Hardwick. He was Father’s childhood friend so Hadley supposed he also would be old. Father had been married once before but when his wife had died, he had married her mama. Hadley was their only child. Part of her wished she had died with Mama. She didn’t know what her life would be like now, with no living relatives, shipped off to the care of a stranger who lived hundreds of miles from everything she knew.
“We are almost at Hardwell Hall, Lady Hadley,” Mr. Weld, her father’s solicitor, said. “Just think—your new guardian is a duke. You are a most fortunate young lady.”
She didn’t feel fortunate at all. She felt lost and alone and wanted to scream at the top of her lungs until she had no voice left.
Then Mama’s gentle voice came to her.
Hadley, you have an opportunity to forge a new life. Be strong. Be brave. Be a lady. Make something of yourself.
Mama always had such good advice. Could Hadley truly be brave and become happy in whatever this new life brought?
She had been bold as a small child, always ready to try new things, and had only grown tentative as she had gotten older. Perhaps this would be an opportunity to reinvent herself. She had grown shy over the last few years, losing herself in books since she didn’t have any friends. Her father had preferred his country seat to town and so they never went to London. It wasn’t appropriate for her to play with any of the servants. The neighboring baron had two boys close to her age but they never wanted her around. She had grown up using her imagination and entertaining herself.
