Duke of Thorns

by Monroe, Jennifer

  “Of course I do, Your Grace,” she said flatly. “My mother has given me some…‘inklin’…as you have put it.”

  He chuckled at this. “Good. I have no time to be your nursemaid nor your teacher. You will be expected to meet with Mrs. Caplin…

  The remainder of the journey was filled with the Duke’s voice instructing her as to her place at Bantry Estate and his expectations of her. Cecilia, however, made no comment, but she did worry she would arrive without a tongue, for she would have bitten it off in her attempt to herself from delivering the tongue-lashing she wished to give him.

  ***

  Bantry Estate was much larger and grander than Cecilia had expected. As the carriage took her through the front gates—iron monstrosities that had been formed into carefully shaped patterns which reminded her of the description of bars on a prison window, though more ornate—it took all her willpower to not gape. The long drive was flanked by tall trees, lined perfectly—tall soldiers guarding what lay beyond.

  The house itself had stood through many generations, even before the 1st Duke of Thornbrook, or so Cecilia understood from what she caught during the Duke’s ramblings during their journey. It held a stateliness with its gray stone walls and arched windows lining the front facade. Two staircases, one on either side of the front door, began their ascent in opposite directions to a small landing and then returned to meet at a wide veranda just above.

  Cecilia had never seen anything so spectacular. How could she call such a place home? It was not that her own home was a small place by any means, but Bantry Estate could have housed three, even perhaps four, Brightstone Manors.

  A footman rushed to the carriage door as it came to a stop and set a step before the door. Benjamin alighted first and then offered Cecilia his hand to aid her. Anyone watching would have thought him a gallant man and not the rogue he truly was.

  Fourteen servants of various dress based on their appointment in the household stood in a long line along the stone walkway that led to the door.

  “I asked them to be in attendance when we arrived to welcome you to your new home,” the Duke replied when Cecilia asked about them. “I realize we do not employ a large staff, but what we have is sufficient for our needs.”

  Not large? Cecilia thought. “So, other houses have even more than this?” she asked aloud.

  He gave her an amused look and then chuckled. “The Duke of Panchet has thirty, but then again, he also has four children and his spinster aunt living with him. We do not need quite so many with only the two of us. Keep in mind, these are only the house servants. We also have a staff for outside chores such as gardeners and stablehands, but that will not be any concern of yours.” He held out his elbow. “Shall we introduce you to your new staff?”

  She took his arm with reluctance. Her mother had taught her a little about how to run a household—every mother with any means would have done so to ready her daughter for marriage—but it was not a task to which Cecilia looked forward. Any mistakes made would be readily seen by anyone with half a mind, and she was not one to enjoy looking the fool.

  The pair began at one end of the line and the Duke named off each person, who bowed or curtsied at each introduction. Cecilia filed each name into the back of her mind to refer to later; the names she would need to remember immediately she studied with more intensity: Mrs. Caplin, the housekeeper; Mrs. Bradley, the cook; Daton, the butler. They would be the three with whom she would spend the most time, for they would disseminate whatever orders Cecilia gave them to the others.

  However, one woman would be the most important of all.

  “And this is Angie,” the Duke said of a young woman perhaps the same age as Cecilia with curly red hair swept up and tucked under a mop cap and kind green eyes. “She will be your lady’s maid.” Not even her mother had employed a lady’s maid; their household, nor their coffers, were never quite that large.

  Cecilia was uncomfortable with the idea of having someone dress her and serve her only; it seemed a waste of money to her. However, she hoped the woman would become a friend and confidante in these unsure times.

  “Your Grace,” Angie said with a curtsy.

  Cecilia acknowledged the woman’s greeting with a nod, but what she wished to do was pull the woman aside and ask her questions. Surely Angie would be of great help as Cecilia learned her role as lady of the house.

  A Duchess! Cecilia once again thought of the title with awe.

  “And there you have it,” the Duke said once all of the introductions were made. Mrs. Caplin will report to you daily to discuss all that needs to be done for the day, or if you are very good at your position,” he said this with a bit of dubiety that rankled Cecilia no end, “you should be able to begin plans in advance. The best of ladies are capable of being that farseeing.” He patted her hand. “Of course, do not worry yourself if this is all a little daunting. Perhaps you will become proficient with time.”

  How condescending! thought Cecilia. Well, she would show him!

  The tour of the house was no less spectacular than the approach of the grounds and meeting the servants. What caught Elizabeth off-guard was how the inside entry hall was almost an exact replica of the front of the house, only on a smaller scale. A single doorway stood across the expanse of the room with two staircases that led up and connected to a second-floor landing. However, rather than stone newels supporting the handrails, decorative wrought-iron posts connected the embellished rails and spindles, and the staircases themselves circled up toward the landing rather than the straight angles used to make up those in the front. The effect, however, was no less imposing.

  Cecilia knew she was gaping and she pressed her lips together to force back the childish reaction. However, no other house to which she had been invited was as imposing as this one. Once again, the realization that this was where she would be living swept over her, and she wondered how she would manage.

  Each room she encountered was no less grand than the entry hall, and more than once she had to click her jaw closed after her initial reaction. They had been tastefully decorated with fine wood furniture and exquisitely-covered cushions. The walls displayed massive portraits of past family members, going back five generations—although a few of the smaller looked to be much older—and each individual gazed down at her in an accusatory manner. She could almost hear their indignation to her presence in such a stately home. ‘How can this simple woman, though from a once-wealthy family, be the newest Duchess of our household?’ they seemed to ask as she walked past.

  Well, she was not one to back down from any challenge and she would not do so now. They would soon be seeing her in a different light, or so she hoped.

  The second floor was just as stunning as the common rooms—it was strange to consider such rooms as common for they were far from it—and when they stopped before one particular door, the Duke said, “And these will be your rooms.” He opened the door and allowed her to enter first.

  She was no less impressed than she had been throughout the rest of the house.

  “You have the expected rooms for your living quarters,” the Duke explained. “A sitting room, your bedroom, and a small servant’s room for your lady’s maid.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Cecilia said as she walked around and touched the exquisite items that made up the décor.

  “You know,” the Duke said in a quiet tone, “I realize that we are newlyweds, but do you not think it overly formal for us to use titles when speaking to one another?”

  “And how do you suppose I address you?” Cecilia asked. She felt her heart patter a bit at the thought of familiarity with the man, although they would become all too familiar with one another now that they were wed in ways she preferred not to consider at the moment. She knew little about what happens in the marriage bed and, to her chagrin, was nervous about what she only knew as ‘the act’. However, she was not ignorant of the fact that it would happen if she was to give him an heir.

  “I imagine that
you should call me Benjamin and I will call you Cecilia, if that is acceptable to you, of course.”

  “Very well…Benjamin,” she replied. The name felt strange on her tongue, but it also brought about a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. It seemed almost…intimate…in its use.

  “Well, I will leave you to rest…Cecilia,” Benjamin said as he took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. His use of her name was like a caress, but the kiss on her hand sent a shiver down her spine. It was not an unpleasant feeling, but it seemed odd to experience excitement at such a touch.

  He closed the door behind him, leaving her to wander the room a bit more. Angie stood in the doorway, facing the floor, and Cecilia felt an overwhelming compassion for the woman.

  “So, Angie, we are to be working closely together, are we not?”

  Angie looked up and smiled. “That we are, Your Grace. Although, if you allow me to say so, I will be doing the working. It is only right.” Her smile slipped and her face reddened. “I must admit, Your Grace, that I have never been a lady’s maid.” Then she quickly added, “But I am a fast learner, so don’t you worry about me doin’ something wrong. I do know a little of such things.”

  Cecilia laughed. “I will then also admit something to you,” she said. Then she lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “I have never had a lady’s maid. I suppose we will be learning together.” Angie appeared to struggle between shock and laughter, so Cecilia added, “Not to worry; I will tell no one if you promise the same.”

  Angie’s smile returned, wider now than before. “As you say, Your Grace,” she said with a curtsy.”

  It came to mind that Cecilia would have preferred to not be addressed so formally by a woman who would be seeing her almost unclothed, but if she was to learn her place in the household, she would need to keep some sense of distance.

  “How about this?” she said, her voice lowered enough now that Angie had to lean in slightly. “I know you would never call me Cecilia.” The girl gasped when Cecilia said this, so Cecilia held up a hand. “But would you at least refer to me as Miss when we are alone? It will be bad enough to hear ‘Your Grace’ from everyone else in the world, but I need someone who I can consider a friend. What do you say?”

  Angie seemed to consider her words and then replied, “I’d be happy to refer to you in such a way…Miss…but if Mrs. Caplin were to find out…”

  “Then we do not tell her,” Cecilia replied with a single nod. “Now, let us get these trunks unpacked, shall we?”

  At first, Angie had refused to allow Cecilia to help at all, but Cecilia was finally able to convince the woman to at least allow her to supervise.

  In the short time she had spent with Angie thus far told her that she would indeed have, if not a friend, at least a confidante in her lady’s maid. And she was more than certain she would need one in the coming days.

  Chapter Six

  The evening of Cecilia’s first day at Bantry Estate came upon her quicker than she expected. She had rested after Angie unpacked the belongings Cecilia had brought from home—that is, her parents’ home—and everything that had happened this day fell upon her as a rock slide after a heavy rain.

  Their first meal together had been nothing of consequence. Two strangers sat in the dining room, much like two people who had just met at a dinner party. Nay, less so, for even two newly acquainted strangers oftentimes found something amongst their ramblings with which to amuse each other. However, this evening, topics of discussion did not come easily, and for all the training Cecilia had received from her mother on how to conduct herself in social gatherings, she found it difficult to use those skills with the man who was now her husband. What little conversation they did have was stilted and felt contrived, but at least there was some conversation.

  “How are you finding your rooms?” Benjamin had asked, though his tone was clipped and straightforward, as if he was not truly interested in her response. “I hope they are adequate.”

  “Yes, very much so,” Cecilia had replied.

  “And your lady’s maid? Will she do in her position? I realize that she has had little experience…”

  Cecilia cut him off. “She will make a wonderful lady’s maid.”

  Then the conversation would drop and they would continue with their meal in relative silence, the only sounds the utensils clicking against plates or bowls, until one would try again to engage the other in conversation.

  “I believe tomorrow I will walk the gardens,” Cecilia had said at one of these moments. “From what I have seen through the windows, it appears a lovely place to spend time.”

  “You are more than welcome to visit the gardens,” had come Benjamin’s reply. “However, do not forget that you must meet with Mrs. Caplin first thing in the morning to discuss the running of the house.”

  Cecilia sighed inwardly but stated aloud firmly, “Yes, I will be sure to do that.” Did the man think her brainless? She might be new to such a household, but her duties would be the same as her mother’s, only on a larger scale. She did not find the task daunting. Well, not too daunting.

  After dinner, they shared in a coffee in the drawing room, conversation even less than during their meal. As the hour for them to retire to their rooms neared, Cecilia remained silent. She was now married, and her first night, her wedding night, loomed before of her. Fear threatened to penetrate the weak barrier she had set around her heart and mind, the sort of protection that she hoped would strengthen her resolve during these first weeks in a new home and life. Yet, this night—and what it was to hold—had not occurred to her until she was led to her rooms. For whatever reason, she thought that if she did not mention to where each of them would retire, the idea that he would find his way to her bedroom would not occur to him. It was more than likely a foolish thought, but she clung to it like a woman clinging to a log to keep herself from drowning in a river.

  When Cecilia thought she could no more of the awkward silence, Benjamin stood. “Well, it is time to retire.” He glanced at Cecilia and studied her for a moment. Cecilia could feel her cheeks heat up at his scrutiny. “I realize that you have had a very long day and will be quite tired. I will not visit your rooms this night as would be customary for a wedding night. I hope you do not see this as a rebuff on my part.”

  Cecilia felt a wave of relief wash over her and quickly replied, “Not at all.” She did not even care if that relief resounded in her words or tone. “I must admit that I am quite a bit tired with all that has happened. I appreciate your consideration in this…matter.”

  He chuckled and downed the last of his brandy before straightening his coat. “Very well, I will see you in the morning,” he said. Then he did something that Cecilia did not expect. He leaned in and kissed her cheek.

  She sat staring at him for several moments, wondering at the strange warmness that assaulted her. She found it difficult to breathe and her body felt afire. A flutter in her stomach made her heart beat even faster, and she worried it would burst from her chest at any moment. Her senses seemed heightened, and for the first time she caught his scent—a mixture of citrus and some woody smell she could not identify—and she felt heady. Should she recant her wish to have him not come to her rooms this night?

  “Because the running of a household can be daunting, I will leave you a list of your responsibilities. I would recommend you read through it several times so you do not forget.”

  The words were like cold water, extinguishing the heat that had ignited in her body, and she quickly retracted her previous wish to have him in her bed that night. The ire that filled her now caused her to narrow her eyes at the man.

  “Have I not already assured you I am quite capable of performing my duties as lady of the house? Do you believe I am so feeble-minded that I know nothing of how to run a household? Or that my mother was lacking in her duties to train me up in such a way that I would be less than capable of doing what would be required of me?” She pursed her lips for a second to calm her tongue
. “I realize that your household requires much more puissance on my part, but you can rest assured that I have little doubt as to my abilities to perform my duties here.”

  She expected anger, or at the least indignation, but instead she was faced with amusement as a smile played at the corner of his lips. It was clear the man was toying with her. How could she have allowed him to ruffle her feathers to such a degree? Miss Cecilia Birks would never have permitted any man to go so far, but apparently Cecilia Birks the Duchess would. That did not sit well with Cecilia at all, and she vowed to not allow it to happen again.

  “I will see you tomorrow,” Benjamin said as he gave her a formal nod before walking out the door, leaving Cecilia to stare after him.

  Cecilia closed her eyes as she took several deep breaths to calm her anger. If this was what it was like being wed to this man so early in the marriage, what would the remainder of her life be like?

  ***

  The following morning, Cecilia awoke just as the sun rose. After washing, she allowed Angie to help her dress. The task was a bit awkward, but not terribly so, and the fact someone else was there to help her with her stays was very useful.

  The previous night’s discussion still lingered in the back of her mind, but she made the decision that, if this was to be her life, she would do her best to make it pleasant. Benjamin might not appreciate her attempts, but if she did not at least make those attempts, their future could be bleak indeed.

  She made her way downstairs and, after taking only one wrong turn, found Benjamin in his study. He was bowed over his desk scratching at a ledger, or so Cecilia suspected, the quill moving in steady motion, so absorbed in his work that he took no notice that she stood at the door.

  She studied him as he completed his figures. He worked deftly, seemingly to never make a mistake, or at least he never crossed out any of his entries. She caught him sticking the very tip of his tongue out as he worked the numbers in his head, and she found the action a bit endearing.