by Amy Jarecki
Though his actions had been deceitful, Danby cared for Margaret. And even before the duke had come to read to Papa, he’d been a benefactor for the soldiers’ hospital.
But how can I trust him?
There was an awkwardness between them now, as if a stone barrier had been erected. She needed his respect and had no doubt she’d lost it.
Moreover, Eleanor had agreed to provide him with an heir.
How in God’s name am I supposed to do that if he doesn’t take his plunder?
He was a renowned womanizer. He had proved himself to be a seduction proficient. After all, he had seduced her in his bedchamber in London.
Now that they had married, was she no longer appealing?
Eleanor dropped onto her back and groaned.
I’ve wed a man who detests me.
Chapter Seventeen
By the time their arduous journey had ended and they reached Rawcliffe Castle, Eleanor was convinced there was absolutely no hope of mending their feud. It was as if she’d ridden nearly two hundred miles sitting beside a complete stranger.
After Danby alighted, she popped her head out of the carriage door and gazed up at an enormous medieval fortress. Moments ago, the coach had rolled through the archway of an imposing gatehouse flanked by two turrets, coming to a stop in a cobbled courtyard in front of a second archway, which led to a gargantuan door. Eleanor’s gaze trailed up the stone walls as she counted four stories. “My, it is daunting.”
Danby offered his hand and helped her alight. “The castle has been in my family for over six hundred years. It has been attacked, rebuilt, and added onto throughout the centuries.”
Eleanor’s breath hitched at his light touch and she could have sworn she caught a friendly glint in his eye, but the moment quickly passed when a woman dashed outside. “Your Grace, we had no idea you were coming! Goodness, the servants have not assembled to welcome you home.”
“Hello to you, as well, Mrs. Temperance. I’m afraid there was no time to send a messenger ahead.” The duke gestured to Eleanor with an upturned palm. “Allow me to introduce Her Grace, the Duchess of Danby.”
The housekeeper wore a lace cap and a black dress with a white apron. Though her face was careworn, her eyes grew black as a raven’s before she curtseyed. “It is an honor, Your Grace.”
Eleanor bowed her head and smiled politely. “’Tis lovely to meet you.”
“Please have the servants assemble in the vestibule straightaway. I’ll show my wife the gardens whilst we wait.”
“Straightaway, sir.”
“I thought you would want to meet the household staff upon arrival,” he said, leading Eleanor through a cloister, though not offering his arm. “And since the day is fine, a quick tour of the grounds is in order.”
“That’s very thoughtful. Thank you.”
The passageway opened to a vast estate undulating down a gentle slope. Danby spread his arms. “The castle is surrounded by a barbican wall. Within her gates is a vast garden, a maze, a number of fountains, and the stables. Beyond is the Danby Forest, where you’ll find no better hunting, a lake stocked with trout, and a racetrack where my horses are trained in secret.”
The duke appeared to grow more relaxed with his every word. “I can tell you are very at home here.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked with an edge to his voice. “This is where I spent my boyhood.”
Ignoring his question, Eleanor spotted a fountain the size of a pool, with Poseidon standing in the middle with his trident, flanked by a ring of varying fish all spouting water from their mouths. “I can imagine Margaret will love it here.”
“As will our children.”
Eleanor’s eyebrows arched. She had agreed to provide only one heir. And though she’d mentioned Margaret, given Danby’s lack of affection, she didn’t intend on staying any longer than necessary. As soon as she conceived, she’d take her family and spend her confinement at Kingston Manor. There she’d be able to insulate herself from the duke’s extracurricular activities and the gossip that was sure to follow.
He retrieved his pocket watch and opened it. “I suppose we’ve given Mrs. Temperance enough time to assemble most of the staff—at least those who work in the house.”
“Is she married?” asked Eleanor, well-aware most housekeepers took on the missus address though many remained spinsters throughout their lives.
Danby snorted. “Not Temperance. I wouldn’t be surprised if the woman had never been kissed.”
After they returned to the courtyard, a footman opened the foreboding medieval doors dotted with blackened iron nailheads. Eleanor blinked to help her eyes to adjust as the duke led her inside. The mahogany paneling was covered with stags’ heads, ancient armor, and coats of arms.
“Will Hartley be joining us?” asked Mrs. Temperance.
“He’ll be remaining in London with the dowager duchess. Though Her Grace’s butler, Weston, will be arriving a fortnight hence.”
“Oh…I see,” said the woman as if she didn’t see at all.
Eleanor turned her attention to the housekeeper. “I assure you Weston is very affable.”
“Naturally.” Mrs. Temperance inclined her head toward the outrageously long line of people awaiting inspection. “Shall we?”
Nodding with a forced smile, it went without saying, the only people Eleanor recognized were the coachman, the groom, and Danby’s valet, all of whom had traveled with them.
They began with the steward, Mr. Hops. Eleanor committed his name to memory, but she found herself at a loss after the housekeeper rattled off the names of the groom of the chambers, ten footmen, a dozen housemaids, the gardener, the cook, the pastry chef, three kitchen maids, two scullery maids, two dairy maids, and a bloodhound named Joe.
As soon as he heard his name, the dog hopped up and greeted Eleanor by putting his muzzle in a very private place. “Oh, my!” Eleanor scooted aside, rubbing her hand along Joe’s back. “With such a welcome, I doubt I’ll forget your name.”
Danby eyed the dog. “Come behind, Joe.”
The bloodhound happily moved toward his master as his tail smacked Eleanor’s thighs.
Quickly regaining her composure, she clasped her hands and strode back down the line. She was no stranger to being the lady of a household. First impressions were lasting and it was imperative they understood from the outset she might be kindly, but was not to be trifled with. “I cannot tell you how happy I am to make your acquaintance. I am looking forward to speaking with each of you as time permits.” She stopped at the cook, a rather portly man. “I will want to discuss menus.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Let’s start after breakfast on the morrow. But at the moment,” Eleanor said, continuing, “I require a knowledgeable person to take me on a tour of the castle.”
“I will—”
Eleanor stopped Mrs. Temperance with a sharp glance over her shoulder. She then pasted on a duchess-like air and turned to the only housemaid in the line who had smiled when being introduced. The only one who had appeared happy that the Duke of Danby had arrived at his ancestral home with his new bride. “I’m so sorry, miss. Would you please remind me of your name?”
The girl curtsied. She was younger than the others, perhaps seventeen or eighteen, but she had an intelligent glint to her eye and an eagerness that showed on her expression. “I am Rosie, Your Grace.”
“Well then, Rosie, you will be my guide.” She turned to the duke. “I believe she would make a fine lady’s maid as well.”
To the sound of muffled gasps from the other housemaids, Danby spread his palms and gave a nod. “As you wish.”
Eleanor took Rosie by the crook of her elbow. “Where shall we start?”
“Would you like to see everything or just the fancy rooms?”
“Oh, definitely everything.”
Sher’s jaw tensed while he watched his dog follow his wife out of the vestibule. Apart from an initial yowl of excitement from his spot at the e
nd of the line beside one of the dairy maids, Joe had not seemed overly excited to have his master home. Though, puppyhood aside, the bloodhound had never indulged in overt displays of affection. Joe preferred to laze in front of the hearth when he wasn’t bounding through the wood, using his enormous nose to sniff out any and all quarry.
“Everyone back to work,” said Mrs. Temperance, clapping her hands. She waited until the hall was empty before she turned to Sher. “If you don’t mind my saying, we haven’t had this much commotion in Rawcliffe Castle in some time.”
“I can imagine. But it couldn’t be helped. We left London as soon as the ceremony was over.”
“One of those weddings,” she mumbled as if to herself, but Sher heard the comment well enough.
“I beg your pardon, madam, but you have no idea to what you are referring and I bid you not speak with such disdain again.”
“Forgive me, Your Grace. It is not my place to assume.”
Sher gave her a dismissive nod. The woman had worked at the castle all her life and had been the housekeeper for at least the past five years. She knew better than to express any opinion about the master of the house to him or to anyone else.
“Ah…” And she also seemed not to take a dismissing cue when given. “I hate to question Her Grace, but as to her choice of lady’s maid…well…Rosie is newly hired and the other housemaids not only have tenure, they are better able—”
“If my wife wants Rosie to tend her needs, then so be it.” He looked to the ceiling. Leave it to Eleanor to be drawn to the only outcast in a line of able maids.
With that, he marched up the grand, curved staircase, which had been his grandfather’s contribution to the modernization of the castle. Before that, the dukes of Danby climbed a narrow, winding set of stairs to reach the upper floors. In truth, the castle still had many such sets of stairs, some even hidden.
Today it was all he could do not to break into a run as he headed for his chamber. Eleanor wasn’t the only person who’d been put out by this state of affairs. He, too, had not been given time to mull over or grow accustomed to the idea. What had addled his bravado anyway? He should have pushed back harder when Prinny suggested marriage. Regardless of, perhaps, a slight infatuation, Sher had absolutely nothing in common with his bride. They were at odds and, since they had taken their vows, every moment together had been pure torture.
Beauty did not a good marriage partner make. If he was to be married, he needed a woman who adored him. Or at least respected him and thought him valiant. Unfortunately, the new duchess believed him to be a deceitful cad.
He untied his neckcloth and rang for his valet. By God, at last he was home. This was his castle and he was damned well going to enjoy himself and indulge in the duration of the summer. Moreover, it was up to Eleanor if she chose to be happy.
The valet stepped through the servants’ door. “You rang, Your Grace?”
“Yes. I should like to go riding forthwith.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Good evening,” Eleanor said as she entered the dining hall, an enormous room papered with an emerald green damask pattern, over which hung life-sized portraits of the Price ancestors. Above was an ornately carved ceiling in Brunswick pine with three recessed panels, the detail truly a work of art. On the center wall stood an enormous white marble hearth, each side supported by a half-naked Greek statue, in front of which, Joe had made himself comfortable, though his ears had perked up when she entered.
Standing at the head of the table, Danby rested his hands on the back of his chair. “There you are. We’ve no need to send out a search party.”
A footman pulled out a chair at the opposite end of the table—a very long table that sat sixteen guests, though tonight was only set for two. Obviously, polite conversation in subtle tones was not on the menu. “I dressed as soon as I heard the dinner bell.”
“Dinner is promptly at seven. You ought to be dressed when the bell sounds.”
“Forgive me,” she said, raising her voice loud enough to be heard across the room. Once Eleanor slipped into her chair, Joe decided to move beside her, where he sat and stared at her with soulful, pleading eyes as if he hadn’t eaten a morsel of food in a week. “I’ll endeavor to be prompt in the future.”
As soon as the duke took his seat, bowls of consommé were placed in front of them simultaneously by two different footmen. Eleanor raised her spoon. “This is reminiscent of the Royal Pavilion.”
“Hardly,” Danby said, taking a bite. “There will only be three courses.”
Eleanor returned her attention to her soup. At least she wouldn’t have to endure a marathon dinner lasting until midnight.
“Did you find your tour enlightening?” he asked.
“Yes, though I daresay it will take some time to see everything. The library is stunning,” she said, mentioning one of the most spectacular rooms in the castle, of which there were many. However, she’d found several she might like to renovate, the first being her private suite of rooms, which were too reminiscent of the dowager duchess’ dated tastes.
“I’d have to agree with you there. It houses some fifteen thousand books.”
“Impressive.” Eleanor took a sip of wine. The library made up the principal two floors of one of the sixteen towers—one of the larger towers, of course. “Tell me, was there always a mezzanine, or was it added later?”
“It was a seventeenth-century addition, I believe.”
Eleanor had assumed as much.
After the soup bowls were cleared and the footmen offered an assortment of roast lamb, boiled potatoes, peas, and mint sauce, Joe decided to scoot a bit closer. He even gave a tiny grunt just to ensure Eleanor glanced his way. Though the dog’s head was just above the table, she doubted Sher knew what he was up to. After all, five candelabrum spanning the length of the table hindered the duke’s line of sight.
She sliced a bit of lamb and slipped it to Joe. The morsel disappeared before she blinked and only served to make the bloodhound more eager. “Down,” she whispered.
“What’s that?” asked Danby, shoving an enormous bite into his mouth.
Joe placed his head in her lap. “Oh, nothing.”
Eleanor managed to eat her food under Joe’s attentive scrutiny while the two nearest footmen looked on with suppressed smiles.
I’ll bet they took wagers on how long I would endure the dog’s attentions.
Deciding to disappoint them, she slipped down another bite, this one much larger than the first. Besides, she rather liked Joe and presently needed as many allies as she could find. It didn’t take a seer to know every servant in the castle was looking at her as an anomaly and, aside from Rosie, no one had gone out of their way to be friendly.
“I think I’ll make some sketches of ideas I have for redecorating my rooms…for your approval, naturally.”
Danby wiped his mouth with a serviette. “You may do as you wish with your suite. Just stay away from mine.”
She paused. He’d given every indication that he liked his chamber in London. Either he ought to be acting on stage or he’d had a sudden change of heart. “I’ll be sure not to touch your door with a ten-foot pole,” she mumbled behind her wineglass.
He glared across the table. “If you’re going to speak, do so audibly.”
Rather than answer, she took a healthy sip of wine. Perhaps Eleanor shouldn’t bother redecorating. She’d be leaving as soon as possible.
As she set her glass down, he was still staring at her as if he expected a civil reply. “I imagine it is nice to be home. How did you spend your day?” she asked.
“On the back of a horse.” He pushed his chair away from the table and stood. “If you don’t mind, I’ve some correspondence in need of my attention.”
Eleanor rolled her hand through the air as the footman removed her plate of unfinished food. “By all means.”
She waited until Danby’s footsteps faded down the corridor, then turned her attention to the line of seven serva
nts all doing their best not to look at her. “Did the duke not say there were to be three courses?”
Tugging on the edge of his glove, the first stepped forward. “There is dessert, Your Grace.”
“Then I should like to eat it.” She gave Joe a scratch behind his ears. “Just because the duke has taken his leave does not mean the meal is over for everyone.”
The footman bowed. “Straightaway, ma’am.”
She braced her hands on either side of the dog’s face. “At least you’ve given me a rousing welcome. And of that I am grateful.”
Sher raised his chin while his valet tied his neckcloth. Faint, feminine laughter came from behind the door of the adjoining room.
“’Tis good to see Her Grace settling in,” said the valet, stepping back and picking up Sher’s coat.
“Hmm.” Sher shrugged into the garment and looked toward the door. He and Eleanor had hardly spoken in the past few days. Was the giggling a good sign? His wife shouldn’t be cavorting with her lady’s maid. But then again, the laughter had been subtle and, aside from some moving about, he hadn’t heard anything else coming from Her Grace’s chamber.
Montgomery wielded the clothes brush. “The duchess rang for a breakfast tray quite early.”
“She’s already eaten?”
“Yes.” The man brushed the lint from his lapels, then stepped back while Sher turned and presented his back. “Would you like me to send up a tray as well?”
The outer door to the duchess’s bedchamber opened and closed, followed by fading footsteps in the corridor. “I’ll take my breakfast in the library, thank you.”
“Very well, sir. I’ll have it sent directly.”
Sher examined his reflection in the mirror as he always did before heading below stairs. His father had insisted a duke must always look like a duke whether or not he intended to go out. The only exceptions were when relaxing in one’s chamber, or very late at night after most of the servants were abed. Only then was he able to remove his coat and untie his neckcloth. Those were the unspoken rules.