Lord Hampford was sitting behind a desk with a ledger. He stood when he saw that it was Trevor and bowed. “Mr. Wallace, I have been waiting to speak to you all week.”
Trevor’s mouth dropped and he sputtered, “I-I am sorry, sir. I mean, Your Grace. Had I known you wished to see me, I would have come sooner.”
The duke gestured to a chair beside his desk. “Do be seated, Mr. Wallace. My wife arrives tomorrow, on the day before Christmas Eve, and there is much to do to decorate and prepare for the celebrations.”
Sitting on the edge of the seat, Trevor took a quick breath. But it did not stop his hands from shaking. “You are a very busy man, Your Grace, and I promise not to take too much of your time. I have served as a curate in the parish of Little Greenwick and the parish of White Waltham for nine years, and I am here to ask for your help in finding a living. I wish to marry Miss Perkins immediately, and I will work hard to prove myself worthy of your recommendation.”
“Finally!” the duke said, clapping his hands. “I have been waiting all week for you to ask me. Congratulations, Mr. Wallace, you have become a man.”
Raking a hand through his hair, Trevor blinked at the older man. “Excuse me, Your Grace?”
Lord Hampford smiled like a lion gazing down at his prey. “I was a little younger than yourself when I found myself in similar circumstances. I felt as if I had no control over my life or destiny. I was forced by my father to marry a stranger, when all I wanted was to be a naturalist. Then a few months after my marriage, my darling wife suggested that we steal a lion together—to save its life. In that moment I chose to no longer allow life to happen to me but to make my life happen. I learned to love my wife and my estates. We have eight beautiful children together and a life that is better than anything that I had dreamed of…But I had to choose to embrace my fate. The same can be said for you. I could not simply offer you my assistance or you would not have become a man.”
Trevor released a pent-up breath. “Then, you do have a living that I might have?”
The duke leaned forward, resting his head on his hands. “The position of my personal chaplain. Reverend Turpin has decided to retire after over fifty years of service. He and his wife will be moving to Bath. His last act as chaplain will be to perform your wedding on Christmas Eve. The position pays a yearly stipend of seven hundred pounds in addition to your housing. My wife suggested that instead of taking up the former chaplain’s rooms in the castle, you and Miss Perkins would be happier at Ford Cottage. The former tenants did not renew their lease for next year, and it will give our favorite governess a little space from our darling daughters. As a new couple, you will need it.”
Seven hundred pounds per annum!
Trevor barely heard the rest of what Lord Hampford said. He would be more than capable of providing for Mary and for their children. They would be able to save a great deal of their income to prepare for their children’s education and future professions. His wife would never need to be hungry or cold.
Ford Cottage. It was the lovely building that they had passed while sledding. It would be their home. For the first time in thirty years, he would have a home of his own and a family. He hoped that it was close to his aunt Goodman’s cottage. He looked forward to many visits with her and longed to learn more about his mother’s life.
“I do not know what to say.”
“Say yes,” Lord Hampford said with a bark of laughter. “My daughters and I have worked too hard at matchmaking for you to say no. I even wrote to the Bishop of Reading—a dry, old stick if there ever was one.”
Trevor’s eyes widened. “You wrote the letter to the bishop that insisted I come and stay?”
“Yes. And the letter that was penned by Helen, but I signed and franked it,” he said. “I also sent a letter to my wife and asked her to pick up a special license so that you can be married as soon as Christmas Eve. A piece of advice from an old married man—always include your wife in your schemes; they are more successful that way.”
Tugging at his collar, Trevor inhaled sharply. “You had already decided to choose me for your chaplain before we met?”
The duke leaned back in his chair and put his freshly polished boots on his desk, crossing his feet. “We are all awfully fond of Miss Perkins, but my decision was not entirely altruistic. Reverent Turpin was of my father’s choosing, and he still considers me a young man and does not listen to a word I say. I am ready for a change. That is why I added a little wine to the dungeon to help with the wooing. My dear girls only put pillows and blankets.”
Trevor’s hands moved from his collar to his mouth. “And the tonic? Were you the one who added the sleeping drug to the elixir?”
“Your aunt kindly sold it to me,” he said with a predatory grin. “My own dear wife probably could have made some up for me—she is brilliant with plants and oils—but she was in London on business. I had no idea at the time that Widow Goodman was your aunt.”
He pointed his finger at the duke. “You wanted Reverend Turpin to miss his sermon.”
Lord Hampford nodded. “The old fellow would never have retired if he had not. I would have been stuck with him for another twenty years. And since we are on the subject, do please keep your sermons pithy. As it says in Romans 9:28, ‘He will finish the work, and cut it short in righteousness.’”
Trevor did not think that was what Apostle Paul or the Lord meant in that particular epistle, but he had no intention of correcting a duke.
“Of-of course, Your Grace,” Trevor said, “and did you arrange the sledding, singing, and dancing?”
Lord Hampford waved his hand. “That was all my lovely daughters’ ideas. As was the dungeon. I would have picked the tower to lock you up in, but my girls have a dark view of romance. By the way, to get to the tower, you go down to the end of the current hall and up two flights of spiral staircases. I must say, the view is quite incredible.”
Getting to his feet, Trevor wiped his sweaty palms on the side of his trousers before offering his shaking hand to the duke. “Thank you. I will do everything in my power to meet your expectations.”
Standing, the duke extended his own hand. “I daresay if you can meet Miss Perkins’s expectations, then you will more than exceed mine.”
Trevor’s chest hitched. “She is an incredible woman.”
The duke picked up a bunch of mistletoe tied with a crimson string from his desk. “Go and tell Miss Perkins your news, and put this to good use. My daughters picked all the mistletoe for miles.”
***