Book Title: THE RUINED DUCHESS, The Scandalous Sisters Book 1
Character Name: Nashford Xavier Harding, 8th Duke of Ross
The beautiful reporter walking into his study displayed a self-assurance that was rare in his presence. Servants and the working class usually bowed their heads in deference. Young ladies of the ton blushed and curtsied. Widows…well the widows were a different story—his favorite bed-time story with their daring décolletage, knowing smiles and desire to please.
This young lady, however, commanded the space despite her lack of rank, and her bespectacled paid companion walked in next to her, not behind her. The companion carried a case that looked like it belonged to his secretary. These ladies of Fresh Fiction were of a different breed all together. How refreshing.
Nashford Xavier Harding, eighth Duke of Ross stood and greeted his guests in front of his desk as if they were gentlemen of the same station, an odd yet pleasant experience as they shook his hand in greeting. The younger of the two, with a mass of brown curls and freckles across the bridge of her nose, took control of the situation and he rather felt as if he had walked into her study and not the other way around.
“Your Grace, we appreciate your time and do not wish to impose on too much of your afternoon. We have a series of questions our readers would like to know about you.”
A genuine smile spread across his face. He rather liked her bold approach. “Of course.” He indicated for them to take a seat in front of his desk. “I will have refreshments brought in.” He turned to his butler but her companion stopped him before he uttered a word.
“That is not necessary, Your Grace. We are on a tight schedule.”
Again, he was taken aback by the bold pronouncement of accommodating their schedule and his smile grew. These two were not to be taken lightly. He waited until they were seated and then sat in his leather chair behind his desk when the young lady spouted out her first question. Her companion had already set her traveling inkwell on the edge of his desk and dipped her quill into it while her bag perched on her lap like a desk already display a blank piece of foolscap.
“How would you describe your family or your childhood, Your Grace.”
Ross leaned back in his chair and interlocked his fingers across his abdomen. “My father was a duke. His father was a duke. Neither deserved the time the scandal sheets spent telling of their exploits, which history will undoubtedly say about me as well.” She gave a polite smile to his self-deprecation which said more than he cared about the truth of that statement. He cleared his throat and continued. “The woman who gave birth to me spent my childhood doting over her husband as a good duchess should. I was raised by a houseful of servants and on the day I became Duke, I threw a party to celebrate my father’s life. Some say I was celebrating his death, which is utter hogwash.” By the look in her assessing hazel eyes, he was certain his charm was not fooling her in the least. She knew the truth about that bash.
“What is your greatest talent?” She asked.
He couldn’t stop the flirtatious smile from crossing his face. “What every good man should do well—pleasure a woman.”
He was rewarded when she blushed, a pretty pink across her cheeks and her voice cracked with her next question.
“Do you have a significant other?”
His continence sobered. “If you’re referring to a bridal prospect, I don’t plan to marry. What has kept this duchy running despite the mishandling of every duke born into it, are the servants. They are responsible for the true strength behind every duke at the helm of the Ross legacy. In the past they have not been compensated well. It is high time society recognizes the hard work of their staff and pay them accordingly. I am determined to right the wrongs where they are concerned.”
“What is your biggest challenge in relationships?”
His smirk returned. “I am a duke. We have no challenges in relationships, just a duty to please.”
“I know we are at your London townhouse, but where do you live most of the year?”
“At the moment here, however, I prefer the quiet life in country. The vast holdings of the duchy and business obligations of the estate have kept me busy. So, I remain in London.”
“Do you have any enemies?”
Damn, this chit didn’t fool around. “Every man of power has enemies, from perceived wrongs to being out negotiated in business, my efforts to make the Ross name one of integrity has created tension between myself and others. I have attempted to correct many wrongs committed against others by previous Dukes of Ross.” He couldn’t stop the shadow from falling across his features and he confessed something neither he nor his interviewer expected. “I wouldn’t say Iseabail Blair is my enemy. She is a passionate woman who was wronged by my father’s man of affairs. I am attempting to do right by her and her sisters—but I have not been able to locate them. If you learn of their location, I will compensate you handsomely.” He didn’t believe the reporter could do what many Bow Street runners had failed to deliver, but if there was a chance…
“We endeavor to assist you in any way we can, Your Grace. If we learn of Miss Blair’s location, we will contact you.”
Ross felt a moment of relief. Perhaps some good would come from this interview instead of this shameless self-promotion.
“How do you feel about your townhouse? Is there something you are particularly attached to, or particularly repelled by, in this entailed home?”
His gaze traveled over the room. His study was immaculately furnished with large pieces of masculine furniture and rows of bookcases filled with leather bound tomes dating back to medieval times. Even the chairs the reporters were sitting in were sturdier than most, covered deep shade of navy with no pillows to soften their beauty. Where a self-portrait would normally hang behind his desk, a portrait of a family of six girls sporting broad smiles and mischievous glean in their eyes as they looked at each other, or at their parents whose fingers interlaced in a casual but loving embrace not seen in most family portraits. It was that painting that held any sentimentality at all. “The painting behind me belongs to another. I would like to return it to the rightful owners.”
She studied the painting for a moment, whispered something to her companion, and then asked another question.
“Do you have children or pets?”
“Since I am unmarried, I have no children, nor do I plan to sire any. My cousin will be my heir. But, like most dukes, I do have a prized horse. He was given to me by my father’s best friend, the Duke of Nithesdale on my eighteenth birthday. The horse disappeared for a week before I even named him.” Ross’s jaw tightened. “I found him bound in the woods when I followed my father’s stablemaster one afternoon. He had taken my horse into the woods and not only tether him but bound his back legs to a tree so the horse could not defend itself. The stablemaster apparently went out and beat him daily. He would hide weapons in his coat and then approach the horse with an apple, only to then pull out a stick, a whip, a knife, whatever weapon of the day he’d chosen and he would torture the horse. Týr has two large scars from dog attacks and multiple others on his coat from God only knows what. When I finally found him, I treated the stablemaster to same manner of training. He left without a letter of reference or a word to my father. Unfortunately, his training stuck. Now I must take off my jacket and shirt to show the horse I’m not hiding any weapons to use against him. I could not ask for a better horse.”
“What is your greatest disappointment?”
He sighed. He’d never revealed this to a living soul but he was about to divulge his deepest darkest secret to a reporter. Would it open doors to finding the Blair girls? He hoped so. “Not being able to locate the Blair sisters and make things right for them.”
“Your greatest source of joy?”
“Assisting other peers gain control of their estates and making them profitable while paying a decent wage to their servants.”
“What do you do to entertain yourself or have fun?”
This question came from her companion whose mouth was made for sin and she damn well knew it. “I believe we are all aware of my favorite source of entertainment.” She did not blush, but grinned seductively.
“What is your greatest personal failing, in your view, Your Grace?”
It was as if this young reporter knew exactly where to jab her pen for a fatal blow. He sighed and answered the question. “Not restoring the Blair sisters to their rightful place in society.”
“What keeps you awake at night?”
She was relentless and if he was honest, he would say the fiery gaze of a young Scottish girl as she struggled for survival. Instead, he responded in the manner society expected from a young unattached duke. “Pleasure,” he said with a wicked grin.
“What is the most pressing problem you have at the moment?”
Again, the damned woman dug a hole big enough to bury him. “Keeping away from the unwanted attention of matchmaking mammas.” And nosey reporters.
“Is there something that you need or want that you don’t have? For yourself or for someone important to you?”
He would like to say a family, which was preposterous. He was not cut out to be a father or a husband. Nor would he embarrass the Blair sisters by saying he’d like to return the home he’d stolen from them. Instead, he offered up a mundane response that seemed to disappoint his interrogators. “There is a canal being built in Scotland that I would very much like to invest funds.”
“Why can’t you? What is in the way?”
“The primary investor does not want my money. That alone is enough to drive a man mad. It speaks volumes to the expected success and profits of the endeavor.”
A perfectly timed knock at the door from his butler stopped the interview in it’s tracks before the two reporters could attempt to pull more confessions from his lips. “Your Grace, the Earl of Astley is waiting in the blue salon for his appointment with you.”
“Thank you, Mansfield.” Ross stood and waited for the companion to sprinkle sand on her writings as her partner closed the inkwell. “I must apologize for cutting this enjoyable interview short, ladies. Astley and I do have some rather pressing business to attend to.” More like a certain widow, but that was not a confession he was prepared to make.
The reporter with the chestnut curls held out her hand. “We appreciate your time, Your Grace. Thank you. Your interview will be published in Fresh Fiction in May.”
He smiled and bowed over her hand. “I assure you the pleasure was all mine.” His lips brushed her knuckles as he looked into her eyes and winked. He was rewarded with that innocent blush.
Scandalous Sisters #1
Society may be run by the men of the ton, but six scandalous sisters are determined to take it by storm one gentleman at a time.
Iseabail Blair has one chance to save her sisters and restore her family’s standings among the ton—a marriage of convenience to a dying man. Her husband’s strategy for her to conceive a child and produce an heir after his death, however, gives Iseabail even fewer choices, especially when she finds herself in the arms of the man responsible for her family’s demise. But is she truly trapped if the passion between her and the Duke of Ross is everything she’s ever desired?
Nashford Harding, Duke of Ross, is determined to right the wrongs of his father. Cuckolding another man, however, is not in his plans. Yet he finds himself caught between honor and ecstasy, and something Nash swore he’d never feel—love.
Can he give up the woman who’s captured his heart and walk away from the dreams he never knew he had, or will destiny step in and give Iseabail and Nash the happily ever after they deserve?
Romance Historical [Oliver-Heber Books, On Sale: April 29, 2025, Paperback / e-Book , ISBN: 9781648399039 / ]
Helene Matheson is the pseudonym for Amazon bestselling author Kym Roberts.
After following her childhood dream to serve and protect, Helene retired from public service and began a new dream—creating happily ever afters. First publishing in mystery and romantic suspense, she decided to add her love of travel and history to her personal oeuvre. From the first page to the last, Helene promises to take you on a journey to the Scottish Highlands that will arouse your imagination and capture your heart.
When she’s not writing or researching her next regency romance novel, she can be found rummaging through antique stores, estate sales, and flea markets looking for that next piece of inspiration.
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