Free Duke of a Gilded Age by S.G. Rogers

she’s engaged to be married.”
    “I know that. She’s mentioned her fiancé several times.”
    “After we’re ensconced at Caisteal Park, you’ll likely see each other infrequently, if at all.”
    “She can’t possibly live more than a few miles away.”
    “Geography isn’t the point.” Lady Frederic sighed. “Let’s not quarrel, dear. Enjoy visiting with Miss Oakhurst. She’ll be married soon enough, and after you taste the delights of society, you’ll forget her altogether.”
    Out of respect for his mother, Wesley bit back a sharp retort. He escorted her down to the dining room, where the Oakhursts were waiting. Belle had changed into a dinner gown of green silk with dainty pink rosettes scattered across the fabric. When she smiled, the sight of her dimples made Wesley’s stomach lift. Forget Belle? Impossible!

    After breakfast the following morning, Mrs. Neal and Mr. Cavendish reported for work. Wesley was amused to see Mr. Cavendish had traded his bulldog walking stick for one with a nifty compass embedded in the handle. As Lady Frederic and Mrs. Neal discussed which gowns and accessories would be needed on the voyage, Wesley showed his valet the new clothes he’d purchased.
    “Very nice.” Mr. Cavendish picked up Wesley’s old top hat. “But this won’t do at all.”
    “That hat was my father’s. I bought a derby instead.”
    “And a perfectly marvelous hat it is, for New York City. Bowler hats, as they are called in England, are fine for the banking set, but not for the aristocracy. And styles in top hats have changed from your father’s day. We’re going to have to nip down to the hat shop to purchase something more suitable.”
    Mr. Cavendish reached into the valise he’d brought with him and produced a set of barber’s tools in a leather case. “First, however, we’ll give you a haircut.”
    “Do you take your scissors everywhere you go?” Wesley asked, taken aback.
    “Not usually, no, but I observed your hair was unkempt when I was here for the interview and therefore came prepared.”
    The valet brought a chair into the bathroom and bade Wesley take a seat. After he draped a towel around Wesley’s shoulders, Mr. Cavendish styled his hair with aplomb. Wesley turned his head to admire his new haircut in the mirror. “You tamed the curl!”
    “Yes, indeed. There’s no excuse for you to go around looking like a Teeswater ram. Shall we head downstairs?”
    “Mr. Cavendish, did Mr. Oakhurst warn you that I’m new at all this royalty business? I only found out about the title a few days ago.”
    “He did happen to mention that, Your Grace. I’ll do all I can to smooth your transition. And please, call me Cavendish.”

    Wesley accompanied Cavendish to the Knox Hat Shop on the ground level of the hotel. After the clerk took a measurement of Wesley’s head, he produced a black silk top hat with a ribbed band encircling the brim. The crown was very slightly larger than the brim, lending the hat a jaunty look.
    “It’s the very latest fashion,” the clerk explained.
    The hat fit perfectly, and Wesley was pleased with the way the hat sat on his newly cropped hair. “I like it.”
    “We’ll take two,” Cavendish told the salesclerk. “If one should meet with an unfortunate accident, we don’t want to be caught short.”
    Wesley decided to wear the hat out of the shop. His derby was packed in the hatbox, along with the spare top hat, and Wesley paid the bill without even wincing at the total. Cavendish carried the package with him as he and Wesley returned to the hotel room. Lady Frederic was writing a letter at the desk while Mrs. Neal was packing garments nearby as carefully as Easter eggs. Mrs. Neal spared Cavendish a worried glance.
    “The porter will be calling at three o’clock, Mr. Cavendish. He’s to pick up the large trunks bound for the steamship. You need to mark which trunks you want in the cabin, and which will be checked into the baggage hold.”
    Cavendish