Duke of Arrogance, page 1
Duke of Arrogance
Dukes of Distinction
Book 4
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.
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Produced in the United States of America
First Edition April 2021
Kindle Edition
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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 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
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
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter One
Blackstone Manor, Dorset—July 1802
Jonathan Sutton gazed out the window as the carriage rolled through Dorchester. Once they traveled the length of the city, it would be another few miles until he would finally be home after his last miserable term at school. He shifted uncomfortably on the seat, his buttocks still aching from the caning delivered by Mr. Rochester, though it had been over a week since the incident occurred. The headmaster packed quite a wallop for a man in his sixties. He’d certainly had enough practice, especially when it came to Jon. He’d earned his fair share of punishments and then taken on more in place of Arch. Since they were identical twins, it had been easy for Jon to step in and accept the disciplinary penalty meant for his brother.
He often took the blame for Arch’s actions. Because he loved him. Everyone seemed to love Archibald Sutton, Marquess of Grafton and future Duke of Blackmore. Arch had a sunny nature and always aimed to please everyone he came in contact with, from the lowest servant to the highest peer. He also had a mischievous side to him, one which got him into frequent trouble. Most people didn’t know that—because Jon always stepped up and claimed responsibility for whatever scheme Arch had gotten caught up in.
Most people didn’t like Jon. They might have if they hadn’t had his brother to compare him against. On his own, Jon was an accomplished rider and boxer and one of the smartest boys in his class. Next to Arch, though, he seemed sullen and moody. In truth, he was quite shy and covered it by acting as if he didn’t care for the opinion of others. He actually liked following the rules which Arch broke all the time. Because Jon took the blame for his twin and suffered the consequences for his twin’s actions, everyone expected the worst from him.
This last term of public school before he left for university had been the worst. While he had excelled in his classes with very little need to study, he’d gotten into constant trouble, this time of his own making since Arch wasn’t around. His twin had been sent home early in the term with some mysterious illness. A rash had broken out across the palms of Arch’s hands and the soles of his feet. It had spread to his trunk and down to his groin. He had run a slight fever, as well. The headmaster had declared for the other boys’ safety that Arch should return home. Some coursework was sent with him but Jon didn’t know if his brother would bother completing it. Arch only finished his assignments because he liked the competition between the two of them. Without Jon to spur him on, he was certain Arch had ignored the work. If he had, he might have to return to Harrow for another term to finish up.
It had been hard enough to be separated from Arch these last two months. They had never been parted, always sharing a room both at home and sleeping next to each other at school. Jon couldn’t imagine himself at university and Arch still back at Harrow. The place was a hellhole. Despite the exorbitant fees, the accommodations had been atrocious, with the sleeping quarters cold and damp. Meals had been tasteless and meager, causing his belly to cramp more often than not. It was commonly thought if schoolboys could survive such abysmal conditions and adhere to the strict obedience imposed by those in authority, they would become the leaders society looked for them to be.
Jon only knew he was excited to reach Blackstone Manor and be reunited with his twin. Surely, by now, the village doctor would have seen to Arch and he’d be fit as a fiddle. Hopefully, they could go riding. Being confined in this coach had worn on Jon’s nerves. Even though his rump was still raw, he’d rather be in the saddle and outdoors than cooped up inside. Especially if Mr. Rochester had written Father regarding Jon’s latest brawl with the pretentious little sod who would be a viscount one day. The boy had said awful things about Arch, which had led to Jon thrashing him soundly. In turn, Mr. Rochester had caned Jon’s buttocks so hard, it had caused them to bleed. The headmaster had told him he couldn’t wait for the Sutton twins to leave Harrow. Since it was the end of term, he’d had to stand at the back of the room and lean over to write upon a desk since he wasn’t able to sit. Both his history and Latin tutors had taken pity on him and allowed him to take his exams orally once the other students left.
If his father knew about this latest incident, though, it would be worse than a caning. The duke had little regard for his second son, who had missed being the heir apparent by seven minutes. All his life, his father had lavished praise upon Arch and condemned every action Jon took. His overt favor should have turned Jon against his brother. Instead, he loved Arch all the more for having to spend time with such a reprehensible man. All the Blackmore wealth, lands, and title would fall to Arch one day but Jon knew his brother would take care of him. That’s what they did. Take care of one another.
The carriage turned and journeyed up th e lane to Blackstone Manor, taking another fifteen minutes before arriving at the main house. It pulled up and the door opened. Standing in the doorway was Elizabeth, his little sister. Her face lit with a smile as she saw him and she began bouncing up and down in excitement.
“Jon! Jon! You’re home!” She ran toward him, laughing.
He climbed from the carriage and swept her up in his arms, soundly smacking her cheek.
“I’ve missed you, Brat,” he declared.
“I am not a brat,” she retorted. “I am Lady Elizabeth Sutton.”
“Well, I am glad Lady Elizabeth missed me for I certainly missed her.”
“Will you take me riding?” she begged as he strode toward the house. “I’m just learning how but I know you would be a good person to teach me. Will you?”
“I will. If not today, then tomorrow. For now, I want to go see Arch.”
The door opened and he greeted Roy, the footman who had been promoted to butler two years earlier.
“It is good to have you back, Lord Jonathan,” the servant said.
“I can’t tell you how good it is to be back, Roy. Tell Cook that I am starving. Have her send something up to our room.” He kissed Elizabeth again and set her on the ground. “I’m anxious to see Arch, Sprite.”
A shadow crossed the butler’s face. Immediately, Jon asked, “What is it, Roy?”
“Lord Grafton is no longer in your shared chambers,” Roy informed him. “He has been moved.”
Puzzled, he asked, “Where is he?”
When the butler hesitated, Jon knelt and looked his little sister in the eye. “Elizabeth? Where is Arch?”
“The dower house,” she said, her bottom lip trembling. “I can’t see him. They won’t let me.” Tears welled in her eyes. “The doctor comes all the time. Father says Arch is very sick.”
Jon stood. “I will go see him at once.”
“Lord Jonathan, His Grace wishes you to—”
“His Grace can wait,” he spat out. “I want to see my brother.”
Hurrying from the main house, he set off at a quick pace and reached the dower house ten minutes later. A cart hitched to a horse stood outside it. As he approached the door, Dr. Broll ventured outside, his physician’s satchel in hand.
“Lord Jonathan. You’ve come home from Harrow, I see.”
“What is wrong with my brother?” he demanded. “When they sent him home from Harrow, he had a rash. Copper in color. It had spread. Has he gotten worse? Why would he be here, living in isolation?”
“Walk with me,” Dr. Broll suggested, setting his case in the cart and then stepping away.
Jon fell into step with the man, apprehension filling him. His twin must have been much sicker than was first thought. The rash might be contagious, which is why he had been taken from the house. But it didn’t make any sense. Father adored Arch. He doted upon him. If Arch were truly ill, his father never would have isolated him at the dower house. It didn’t make any sense.
“What’s wrong with my brother?” he asked quietly, apprehension filling him.
“Lord Grafton has contracted a disease,” the physician began. “A very serious one. I should like to check you for it, as well, Lord Jonathan.”
“I don’t have a rash like the one Arch got on his hands and feet,” he quickly said.
“What about ulcers?” Dr. Broll asked.
“I remember several months ago that Arch complained about ulcers inside his mouth. He also had one in the corner of his mouth which he said was quite painful. They healed, though. Have they returned? Is that what is making him so ill? I don’t have any.”
“They wouldn’t necessarily be in your mouth. They could be on your genitals. Or your anus.”
“No,” he said quickly, covering his embarrassment. “I’ve experienced nothing like that. Has . . . Arch?”
Dr. Broll nodded. “His rash—the one he experienced at school—has spread rapidly. White patches cover the inside of his mouth. He’s also suffering from other symptoms.”
“What is wrong with him, Doctor? Surely, you can cure him.”
The older man shook his head sadly. “Believe me when I say that I have tried to, my lord. I’ve even used mercury, as dangerous as it is.”
“Why?” he demanded. “Tell me the truth and quit avoiding my questions.”
The doctor placed a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Your brother has syphilis, Lord Jonathan. It is incurable. It will lead to severe problems as it spreads throughout his body, stage by stage. It can lead to problems with his heart. His brain. His nerves. It might paralyze him. Lead him to becoming blind or deaf. It will render him impotent. He may even go mad.”
Disbelief flooded him. “No!” he shouted. “I don’t believe you. Arch is only sixteen.” He shucked off Broll’s hand. “You’re lying.”
The doctor sighed. “I wish I were, Lord Jonathan. The syphilis will render your brother useless. He’s already in a great deal of pain.”
Anger now filled him. “Then why has Father sent him away? He needs to be with his loved ones, not stuck alone in the dower house.”
Broll’s expression grew pained. “His Grace is very unhappy. He blames himself for the circumstances Lord Grafton finds himself in.”
“How? What did Father do to make Arch sick?”
Dr. Broll looked away. “I am not at liberty to discuss this with you, my lord.”
His eyes narrowed. He glared at the physician. “How did my brother contract . . . what did you call it?”
“Syphilis.”
“Syphilis. Where does it come from? Tell me,” he urged. “Please.”
Sadness filled Dr. Broll’s eyes. “It is from sexual congress with an unclean woman who carries the disease.”
Jon staggered back. Immediately, he thought of the visit Arch had made to a brothel, courtesy of their father. Jon hadn’t been invited. It often was that way, with the duke taking his heir on various excursions, preparing him for his future role. Arch had allowed their father to believe it was his first time with a woman, despite the fact the twins had been sexually active since they were fourteen.
But to contract some horrid disease from a woman simply because you had sex with her? It was unthinkable. And now this man was telling him that Arch would slowly fall to pieces before their eyes.
“I want to see him,” he said firmly. “Now.”
“Your twin is in a great deal of pain. He might not want a visit from you.”
He stared at the doctor. “Arch will want to see me.”
Turning, he strode toward the dower house. Inside, he passed a maid, who looked startled to see anyone there.
“Where is he?” he barked.
“Upstairs. Third door on the left,” she squeaked and hurried away.
Jon took the stairs two at a time and hurried down the hall, only to pause in front of the door. It was as if his feet wouldn’t let him continue.
“This is Arch,” he said under his breath. “He needs you. Go.”
Steeling himself, he rapped lightly on the door. When Arch didn’t call out, Jon let himself in and went toward the bed.
His twin was propped up with pillows behind him, a shadow of his former self. Jon forced his face to remain a mask, burying the shock of Arch’s appearance deep within him. His brother had lost a good deal of weight and looked painfully thin. His face was flushed with fever. Much of his hair had fallen out.
“Jon,” Arch rasped. “You’re here.”
“Of course, I am here,” he said, lifting a chair and bringing it to the bed. “Do you think I would hang about school when I could be home with you?”
He sat and reached for his brother’s hand. Arch pulled away.
“Don’t touch me,” he said, revealing a glimpse of white patches inside his mouth. He winced.
“Are you in much pain?”
“Every minute of every hour of every day,” Arch said jokingly before he sobered. “Repulsive sores covering my genitals. Abscesses and ulcers decorate my body, a foul smell rising from them. My eyesight is fading fast. Though I haven’t told Dr. Broll, I think he’s guessed that’s the case.”
“You should tell him,” Jon urged. “See if he can do anything for you.”
“Oh, he tried, Brother. But this disease holds you hostage. It squeezes the very life out of you.” He licked his dry, cracked lips. “Broll has been honest with me when no one else has been. I know I could be paralyzed. That my heart will weaken. The headaches are already blinding. He said it’s a matter of time before I begin to lose control over what little muscles I have left.” He closed his eyes.
