“Oh, Your Grace,” George said in surprise and then he gave her a deep, yet crooked, bow. “I didn’t know anyone was here. I was just comin’ to weed that flowerbed, but I can come back later if you want.”
“No, of course not,” Cecilia replied as she held back a giggle. “Please, do not allow me to keep you from your work. I was just admiring the lovely blooms. It appears that the rain did wonders for all of the plants in the gardens these last few days.”
“Yes, Your Grace, it sure did. But now after a whole week of not bein’ able to pull the weeds, I worry they’ll take over everything if I don’t get in there and pluck them out.”
Cecilia doubted very highly this was the case, for she knew the unwanted sprouts would need longer to become such a nuisance, but she smiled at the man nonetheless. “I am quite sure you will be able to weed it out quite nicely,” she assured him. “You have a wonderful talent for keeping our gardens beautiful, and it is something I appreciate more than you can imagine.”
The man smiled broadly and bowed again, this time with much more confidence than she had ever seen from him in her presence. “Thank you, Your Grace.” The man was beaming.
“But of course. I only speak the truth,” she said with great kindness. She spoke the truth, after all. “Well, I will let you at your work. Have a wonderful day, George.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” George said with a wide grin. “And yourself, too.”
Cecilia left the man to complete his work and headed to a bench that sat under a large oak in the far corner where she could once again be alone. The sun had yet to dry the wooden seat, so she stood beside the bench and gazed at a robin sitting on a nearby branch and allowed her mind to return to her predicament with her husband. Her hand reached into the pocket of her dress, and she pulled out the weeds she had removed from the flowerbed. Just like that flowerbed, she would somehow remove the weeds that filled her marriage. Just how she would do that, she as of yet did not know, but it had to be done. However, she was a formidable woman, despite what the man she was forced to marry thought. Something would come to mind, she was sure of it.
She tossed aside the offensive plants, rubbed the bits of dirt from her hands, and then straightened her back. If the Duke was not going to put forth any effort to make this marriage at least amicable, then it was left to her to do so. Otherwise, how could she endure the remainder of her life living with a man who only saw her as a possession and ignored her as a woman? No, that was no way for anyone to live. She was never one to turn her nose to adversity before, so why should she begin now?
***
Benjamin thanked Cecilia as she handed him a cup of tea. Throughout the past few days, the woman had seemed to go out of her way to be in his company, and he was unsure as to how that made him feel. It had been quite some time since anyone desired his company, except those who wanted something from him, such as business associates or extended family looking for funds for one investment scheme or another. The gesture on Cecilia’s part was a bit unsettling while at the same time a pleasant change from what typically was a solitary life.
“I was thinking of partridge for dinner this evening,” Cecilia said over the rim of her teacup. “Would that be agreeable to you?”
Benjamin found himself smiling. “Yes. It has been some time since I have had partridge. I take it Jimmy had luck in procuring a few of the birds?”
“Indeed,” Cecilia replied. “Apparently, he could have brought us enough to eat for several meals if his tales are to be believed.” She laughed and Benjamin found the sound delightful.
Then a thought came to mind, one that forced him to suspend his movements with his teacup halfway to his lips. How strange it was to be in the company of this woman and conversing as if they had been married for several years rather than six weeks. Somehow, the allure of having won her was paling in comparison to how she made him feel at this very moment and he was unsure as to how it should all make him feel.
A war raged inside Benjamin, and he found it difficult to maintain his distance from the woman. The inner conflict was so strong that he remained in his seat with great effort. What his body wished to do was to run to the study and lock the door behind him so her presence would not interfere with his intellect. The reason he had married her was not for the typical reasons of love or a wish to fulfill some physical or societal need. No, his rationale at the time had been that he knew he could wear down a woman of great defiance and ultimately possess her, and the fact that it was he who was being worn down was causing him great discomfort while at the same time bringing him enjoyment.
The truth of the matter was that he could not—nay, he would not—allow Cecilia to gain any more ground than she already had. Granted, conversing during dinner had aided in his digestion. And he had to admit that he had even laughed more than once in the past week while in her company. Furthermore, their after-dinner routine had become a satisfying manner in which to end the day, even when it was in silence. However, none had been a result of any plans he had designed, and that was where he felt the most discomfort.
However, what truly confused him the most was that on more than one occasion he knew Cecilia was in the room before she announced herself. The scent of lavender soap always preceded her and he could feel her eyes before he turned. She smiled more in the past week than she had in the entire five weeks beforehand, and as promised, she had made him not one but three new handkerchiefs with a perfect representation of the family crest stitched in the corner. Not even his mother had created such an emblem on a small piece of cloth, nor had she ever shown an interest in doing so, not of which Benjamin was aware.
The night Cecilia had given her newest creations to him, he had sat in his room for close to an hour staring at the intricate and detailed design. To have taken so much time and applying such effort to making such a gift was not something he had expected, and he found he appreciated what she had done for him. Perhaps he had been wrong in the beginning in thinking that she should be broken like some wondrous new mare. However, he had time to rectify the situation and appreciate the new woman who now resided in his home.
Yet, after they finished their evening drink after dinner and he had retired for the night, the reality of allowing himself to love someone set in. There was a reason he had not married sooner, a reason that no one but he could understand, for the idea of giving love freely had seemed to him a farce. When one allowed himself to love, such actions always led to disappointment. Not for him, but for the person he chose to love. Had that not been the case with his father? Benjamin had loved the previous Duke, had held him up high, had set the man on the tallest pedestal and admired him beyond belief. However, that love was lost when the man died suddenly. He was taken from Benjamin without even the chance for Benjamin to say goodbye, and that weighed heavily on his soul, for had it not been Benjamin who had been responsible for the death of his father?
Benjamin gave a heavy, but silent, sigh as he peered at his wife. Had he misunderstood her when they had met before? Perhaps the woman who sat before him was the true Cecilia and the other had been the person she had chosen to put forth in order to hide who she was in reality.
He studied her for a moment. What if he decided to take the risk? Not at love, of course, but perhaps to allow a fondness for the woman? Or could he even go so far as having an affection for her?
As the thought grew, he realized that, yes, he would be willing to risk allowing his feelings to bloom. So many had loving households—none that came to mind offhand, but certainly they existed for the stories said they did. There was no reason to believe that, if he put forth the smallest bit of effort, perhaps he and Cecilia could come to an understanding if nothing else.
Chapter Eleven
Saturday morning dawned bright as Cecilia dressed for the day, her yellow day dress dotted with tiny white daisies and puffy sleeves. A white sash belted just under her breasts held a large bow and the toes of what had become her favorite white slippers poked out from ben
eath her skirts. If she had gained anything in her new position as Duchess that she loved more than the clothes she was permitted to order, it did not come to mind.
Her mother had written to explain that she and her father had been able to repurchase several of the items they were forced to sell during their ‘trying times’ as her mother had termed them and that they were in the process of procuring help to replace those who had been let go. Their greatest wish was to convince their old staff to return; however, many had already found new positions, some receiving higher salaries than Mr. and Mrs. Birks could possibly afford.
Cecilia had plans to reply this morning, and then at ten, she would meet with Mrs. Caplin to discuss the dinner menu and any other issues that may have arisen over the past week. Typically, their meetings were short, for Mrs. Caplin was quite adept in her position and very few problems presented themselves to such a degree that they should be brought to Cecilia in order to rectify them. Although Cecilia was pleased that the woman was capable, it made her feel less needed than she would have liked.
The sound of whistling came through the window, out of tune but cheerful, and Cecilia glanced out to the gardens. George was already setting to work and Cecilia watched as the man bent over a rose bush and clipped away at several blooms that had gone past their prime. In a way, Cecilia envied the man and his ability to work in the open air, beautifying the grounds for her—and everyone else’s—enjoyment. If only she could be allowed to toil in such a way rather than wasting her time on insignificant tasks that gave her few opportunities for physical gratification.
She sighed and was just turning from the window when a knock came to her door.
“Come in,” she called out, curious who would be coming to see her so early in the morning.
The door opened and Benjamin stepped into the room, a rare smile on his face. “Good morning, Cecilia,” he said as he walked up to her.
“Good morning,” Cecilia replied, surprised at his cheery disposition. “You seem rather chipper this morning.”
His smile broadened. “I suppose I am at that.” He leaned against the bedpost and crossed his arms across his broad chest that pressed against the fabric of his coat—and not in the way a man who enjoyed extra portions of sweets would. No, from what she had seen of the man when he was in his shirtsleeves, Benjamin Young had a well-defined, muscular form that left her lacking a single drop of moisture in her mouth and a strange heat in her stomach.
Cecilia had never seen the man so relaxed, and she shook the image of him devoid of clothing from her head. Until he proved otherwise, thinking such things of a brute such as he would lead to nothing but heartache.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked, surprised at how steady her voice sounded.
“I have been thinking,” he said as he pushed himself from the post. “I would like the two of us to do something together today.”
Cecilia raised a single eyebrow. “Is that so?” she asked calmly, though her heart had begun to pound as if she had run a footrace. “And what do you propose we do?”
“What would you say to us having Mrs. Bradley pack us a basket and us going on a picnic?”
“A picnic?” she asked in surprise. “Why, I have not been on a picnic in years.” She pretended to give the idea a few moments of consideration—the idea already appealed to her but she was not willing to give him the satisfaction of knowing this—and then said, “Well, I must meet with Mrs. Caplin at ten, but I am certain we will be finished before you would wish to leave. Very well, I say that, indeed, I would enjoy going on a picnic with you.”
“Wonderful,” came his easy reply. The tone sounded odd to Cecilia, coming from the lips of this man. “I have some work I need to complete before we leave, as well. How does one sound? I will meet you at the stables.”
“The stables?” Cecilia asked in surprise. “Will we not take the carriage?”
Benjamin shook his head. “I thought it a rather splendid day to go for a ride instead.” Then he paused. “You do ride, do you not?”
She laughed. “Of course I ride. What woman in her right mind does not learn to ride?”
“You would be surprised,” Benjamin replied with a chuckle. “It is settled. At precisely one, mind you, be at the stables. I will not wait a moment longer.”
Cecilia stared after the man as he left the room. Never had she seen him in such a buoyant state; his walk could have only been described as a bounce. She smiled. Where had this man been hiding all this time? she wondered, and why had it taken him so long to emerge? If she had met this version of the Duke, the fact she had been forced to marry him would have been less unsettling.
***
The morning’s activities went smoothly and at one o’clock, Cecilia made her way to the stables. Benjamin was already there waiting, a basket tied to the back of the saddle of a tall, dark steed. Beside him was a beautiful chocolate roan who welcomed Cecilia as if the animal had known her all its life.
“That is Buttons,” Benjamin said with a laugh. “Silly name, I know, but my sister had insisted on it for some reason.”
Cecilia patted the roan’s nose. “Buttons is a delightful name,” she said with a smile. And I am certain we I will get on beautifully,” she said. Without turning, she added, “I see you have our lunch basket.”
“Indeed.” He patted a round bundle behind the saddle. “I also included a blanket. I do not know what you find comfortable, but I know I prefer not to sit directly on the ground.”
“I would agree,” Cecilia said with a smile. She was unsure why she felt the nervous young girl at the moment. She shook off the strange feeling and squared her shoulders. Now was not the time to allow herself to be some flighty, brainless debutante.
“Well, then, shall we?” he asked. He seemed a bit ill at ease but Cecilia wondered if perhaps it was her own nerves that she felt. The Duke of Thornbrook never suffered from uneasiness, at least not from what Cecilia had seen so far.
“Yes, let’s.”
Benjamin helped her into the side saddle, and once she was positioned properly, she straightened the skirts of her dress around the back end of the horse. If Benjamin made a habit of inviting her to ride, she would have to invest in a variety of riding skirts, preferably the divided kind. What surprised her was how comfortable the sidesaddle was, a fine piece of leather with embossed flowers along the sides and a padding beneath that Cecilia had never seen before. It had to have cost a good amount as it was well-made and more extravagant than those her father had purchased for her.
Once Cecilia was ready, Benjamin mounted his horse, and soon they were on their way.
The road, if the vague path they followed could be called that, crossed the open expanse of land—green fields and hedgerows as far as the eye could see. The sky was clear and blue and a slight breeze ruffled her skirts. Cecilia was glad to be free of the confines of the house. The gardens were an enjoyment, but being out on a horse, riding with the wind blowing past her, a liberation she had not felt since marrying the man who rode beside her coursed through her.
A copse of trees loomed ahead and Benjamin stopped just at the edge. “We can tie the horses here and then walk up that small hill to lay out the blanket. What say you?”
“I believe that is a marvelous idea,” Cecilia replied with a smile. Just the fact he had asked her opinion on even this small matter was an unexpected pleasure, and although she doubted he would be as accommodating at other times, she would take what she could get when it presented itself.
Benjamin helped Cecilia off the horse and she took the blanket from him while he carried the basket. At the top of the small hill they stopped.
What lay before them made Cecilia stop short. She gazed at the sight that lay before her. A large valley lay on the other side of the hill, a small stream snaking through it with trees lining its banks to break up the grassy openness. On the opposite side of the valley rose another hill where a tower stood at its crest, long ago vacant with turrets long since fal
len.
“What a breathtaking view,” Cecilia said. “I do not believe I have seen anything so beautiful.”
“Nor have I,” Benjamin said, and when Cecilia turned, he was suddenly busying himself with laying out the blanket with such vigor that the cloth snapped in the air before he placed it on the ground. However, his face could have easily been mistaken for a ripened apple.
Had he been looking at her when he spoke about beauty? But no, why would he say such a thing, especially about her?
When Cecilia opened the basket, she gasped. “Did Mrs. Bradley believe we would be meeting an entire army while we were out?” she asked with a laugh as she gazed at the cornucopia of food within. “I doubt we can eat even half of this.”
Benjamin chuckled. “When I told her our plans, she had such a look on her face I almost laughed. She clapped her hands together as if readying herself for some sort of challenge. Apparently, that was how she looked at our outing.”
“Well, we should not disappoint her,” Cecilia said, though she doubted they would eat even half of the food the woman had provided. There were tiny meat pies, cuts of roasted chicken sprinkled in spices, lamb cut into cubes, and several types of fruit as well as bread rolls and no fewer than four types of sweetbreads. The woman had even included a bottle of wine and two carefully wrapped wine glasses.
As they ate and sipped their wine, they gazed off in the distance. The sun was warm but not overly so, and the light breeze that ruffled the corners of the blanket still breathed on them.
“I have not asked,” Benjamin said, breaking them from their contented silence. “How have you enjoyed Bantry Estate thus far?”
Cecilia watched as a butterfly landed on a daisy not far from her, though she did not truly study it. “I find it…satisfactory,” she replied after some thought. How could she tell him that she found herself lonely and that she did not consider Bantry Estates her home? Where she would have been frank with him before, today speaking such words seemed out of place.
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