To Protect and to Cherish

by Becky Riker

  She sat still, attempting to regulate her breathing.

  She wasn’t fooling Slade. He could see her stiff shoulders. A change of topic was in order.

  He pulled her soft hair behind her and set the brush on the table, still unwilling to relinquish his hold on the silken masses, “Would you like to go riding this morning?”

  She spun around to look at him, “Truly? You have time to go riding with me?”

  His heart rate increased at the sight of her eager expression. He knew he would sacrifice every morning to her if she would be always this eager to be with him.

  “I can go as soon as you are ready.”

  She began to rise but then sat down heavily, “I do not have anything to wear.”

  He was so glad for his sister at that moment, “Wait here,” he stood up and went into his room, bringing out a large box.

  “Amy told me you would need this.”

  Jillian smiled up at him before lifting the lid. She ran her hand over the royal blue fabric, “It is lovely.”

  He sat and pulled the box onto his lap so she could pull the garments out and get a better look.

  He would not have thought of the dress on his own, but he had chosen the fabric to match his wife’s eyes. Thankfully, the dressmaker had been well able to determine sizing from the wedding gown.

  She turned to go into the bedroom, but then spun back to him, “I imagine we should eat before we leave.”

  He saw the flicker of disappointment, but he had to agree with her, “I suppose we should,” he took the habit from her and draped it across the sofa. “We will go see if Cook has our meal ready, and I will see about having our horses saddled while we eat.”

  “I will need to have Erin arrange my hair,” she reached up and touched her glorious mane.

  “Perhaps you could simply braid it.”

  Her scandalized countenance made him smile as he extended an arm to her.

  She was about to take it, but then she drew her brows together in thought.

  “Something wrong, Jillian?”

  She glanced back at the garment.

  He thought he knew what she was thinking. He walked back to the sofa and lifted a panel of fabric at the front of the skirt, revealing a split skirt beneath.

  Jillian beamed.

  He offered his arm again.

  She took it immediately.

  Breakfast did not take long. Jillian was soon back into her room, changing into her habit.

  “The color will look fine on ya, milady,” Erin prepared combs for her mistress’s hair as Jillian buttoned up the front of her riding spencer.

  “Thank you, Erin,” she moved slightly to try to accustom herself to the odd sensation of the split skirt, “Does it look different than a regular skirt?”

  Erin cocked her head, “It isn’t as full as some habits, but you canna tell there are breeches underneath.”

  Jillian laughed at the idea.

  “Beggin’ your pardon, milady,” Erin bit her lip. “I didn’t mean to imply you are wearing men’s clothing.”

  Jillian took a seat, “It feels as though I am,” she grinned up at Erin. “I just have a skirt over men’s breeches.”

  Erin began pulling the duchess’s hair into a coil, “It was very kind of his grace to give it to you, so you can be comfortable.”

  Jillian nodded, “It was kind of him.”

  A knock sounded on the door.

  “Come in,” Jillian called, assuming it was the housekeeper or a maid.

  “Are you nearly ready?” Slade stepped into the room wearing riding clothes.

  Jillian noticed as Erin’s hands stilled.

  “I am not,” the mistress knew she needed demonstrate a respectful attitude toward her husband, “but if you can bear to come in and wait, I am certain Erin will be finished soon.”

  Slade did come in. He pulled the chair from beside her writing desk over to her side and sat himself upon it.

  “I should have asked my sister to find you a hat to match.”

  “I have a straw bonnet that will look quite nice with it,” she smiled at him, “but I thank you for the consideration.”

  Erin pushed a few more pins into place.

  Jillian recognized the final pat, “Thank you, Erin.”

  “Anything else, milady?”

  “No, thank you, Erin. I will call you when I return to the house.”

  Erin curtseyed and left the room.

  Jillian turned toward her husband, “Thank you for the gown. It is lovely.”

  “It looks lovely on you,” he turned her thanks back around to compliment her. “It appears to fit nicely.”

  Jillian flushed at his mention of the fit. It certainly was not something a gentleman should say to a lady, but she supposed it was proper within a marriage.

  “Shall we go find our mounts?” he rose and extended a hand to her. She put her fingers in his and followed him out the door.

  The groom was ready with their horses.

  Jillian grew nervous as they approached the pair, “Will your groom think it scandalous for me to ride this way?”

  Slade leaned toward her ear and kept walking, “My groom is not paid to judge my actions or yours.”

  She wasn’t comforted; she pulled him to a stop and waited for him to look at her, “But will I bring you shame by doing this, Slade? Servants will talk, you know.”

  He took both her hands in his, “Gossip is not tolerated in our home, Jillian. It is – and has always been – grounds for dismissal,” he leaned a bit closer, “Besides, I believe you will so captivate my staff that they will all think anything you do is charming.”

  Jillian doubted it, but she knew she would not convince him otherwise.

  “Peter,” Slade nodded at the groom.

  Slade held his lady’s horse and assisted her into the saddle, “This is Gacela. She may prove to be too tame for you, but we will begin with her.”

  Jillian smiled, “I believe I prefer an animal as tame I can find.”

  He handed the reins to her, “Do you feel comfortable?”

  She nodded, amazed at how true it was.

  He mounted his own horse and they rode down the lane together.

  Jillian was surprised by how time flew. They rode by the workers in the field, across small streams, and through a stretch of woods.

  She wondered if there was any chance she would ever learn these paths. Every turn took them to a new scene.

  She mentioned as much to him.

  “I hope you are not considering riding out on your own, Jillian,” he spoke seriously. “You could fall and get hurt – or get lost.”

  She looked over at him, “I wasn’t actually considering it, Slade. I was simply stating that I have had no sense of direction this whole time we have been out riding. It would be nice to have some sort of picture in my mind where we are, what is nearby, or where the house is.”

  He looked relieved, “I beg your pardon. I should not have jumped to conclusions,” they continued riding, “perhaps I should draw out a map of the different places we have been today. Then you will be able to see where they all fit into our property.”

  Jillian admired how easily her new husband could refer to his land as belonging to them jointly. She wasn’t sure if it did come that easily, but it sounded natural.

  “I would like that very much,” she reached down and stroked the neck of the gentle horse.

  “Are you ready to return home?” Slade stopped his horse next to her.

  “I think we must,” she sighed. “You have been away from your duties far too long,” she glanced up at the sky, “The day is half gone and nothing has been accomplished.”

  Slade looked across the field, “I am sorry that you feel this is a waste of time.”

  She stretched out her hand to touch his arm, but his horse shifted and she managed to lay a hand on his thigh instead. It was rather shocking to her, but she forced herself to leave her hand there.

  “I never meant to say it was
a waste of my time, Slade. I only intended to acknowledge that you have many responsibilities aside from me.”

  He picked up her hand, looking down at it, “I had planned to spend the day with you, however it may be, Jillian.”

  She tugged her limb back to herself, “Well, then, I think this morning has been well-spent.”

  “Shall we return to the house or continue riding?” he smiled at her.

  “I believe we should continue riding until we get back to the house,” she teased him, “but I am sure our animals would appreciate a rest at that point.”

  He turned them back, “We have not been riding them hard, Jillian. If you wish to ride longer, we can.”

  She nodded, “As lovely as that sounds now, I fear I may find tomorrow that I regret riding at all.”

  He frowned.

  “I am not accustomed to it,” she hoped not to have to point out the obvious.

  “I apologize again, Jillian,” he sounded as though he was smiling though she did not see any hint of it on his lips. “I should have considered that earlier.”

  “Perhaps we could go for a walk following a light meal?” she offered a suggestion that would allow her to stretch her legs.

  By evening, Jillian was already sore from the ride. She did not mention it to her husband, but she did not think it escaped his notice.

  They parted company in their sitting room, “Good night, Jillian,” he placed a soft kiss upon her cheek before retiring to his own chambers.

  She was both regretful and relieved that there was not a repeat of the kiss from the previous night. She was not certain her legs were going to hold her up much longer.

  “Milady, would you care for anything before you retire?” Erin asked after Jillian had changed into her nightgown.

  Jillian sat gingerly on the bed, “I have never been one for drink, Erin,” she groaned as she attempted to get her feet onto the bed, “but I am considering it if it will numb the pain.”

  Erin laughed, “If you want to lie down on your front, I may help you with the pain.”

  With no little difficulty, Jillian did as she was told, though she had no idea what Erin had in mind.

  Erin started at her neck and shoulders and began rubbing Jillian’s muscles with strong hands. By the time she was finished, Jillian felt much less pain.

  Jillian sat up a bit, “Thank you, Erin. I feel so much better.”

  “Will you be needing anything else, miss – I mean, milady?”

  Jillian shook her head, “Thank you, no.”

  Erin curtseyed and left the room.

  Jillian was up early again. Her legs and lower back felt as though they were on fire. Even her shoulders ached. She was again grateful for Erin’s ministrations the night before. She surely would have felt worse without them.

  She was at the window, trying to ascertain the weather, when a knock sounded on her door. Assuming it was Erin, she called for her to enter.

  “I thought you might still be sleeping,” Slade opened the door.

  Jillian glanced down at her dressing gown and then back at her husband, eyes wide.

  “I apologize, Jillian,” he backed out the door. “I thought I heard you tell me to come in.”

  Still in shock at having been caught in any state of undress, Jillian realized she had embarrassed her husband by her reaction to his entrance. She glanced down at her attire as she hurried to the door.

  Her nightgown was modest enough, and, with the robe over the top of it, she was not actually wearing any less than she did throughout the day.

  “Slade,” she opened the door to the sitting room and glanced around.

  He was not there. She was about to turn back into her own room, but she heard a noise in her husband’s room.

  She swallowed hard, drew a deep breath, and went to knock on his door.

  “Come in,” he called.

  Jillian was glad her husband was already dressed or she would have feared catching him in the same state he caught her.

  “Slade,” she opened the door but did not step in, “am I bothering you?”

  He rose from the chair and met her at the door, “Bothering me? No.”

  “I came to apologize for my reaction to your entrance. I was expecting Erin.”

  He leaned against the door frame and looked down at her, “Does my knock sound very like hers?”

  She shook her head, a smile ghosting over her lips, “No, but she has been knocking on my door in the mornings for about five years. I’ve grown accustomed to her face being the first one I see.”

  “Did you call for her this morning?”

  Jillian frowned, “No. I never bother calling for her. She simply comes – if I am asleep, she returns later.”

  “Jillian,” his voice was soft, “I do not think you can expect her now unless you call.”

  She must have looked confused because he went on.

  “You are married now. She will wait for you to call her.”

  Jillian’s face flamed at the implication.

  “I considered knocking at the door between our rooms,” he explained his actions, “but it seemed a little too intimate for where we are right now.”

  “I am sorry, Slade,” she couldn’t look at him. “I should have realized – about Erin, I mean.”

  He put a hand on her shoulder, “Maybe we should come to the point of my knocking at your door,” he suggested. “I was wondering if you wanted to take breakfast with me, or if you preferred to have it brought to you.”

  Jillian knew she should take every opportunity to get to know her husband, but her recent mortification along with her sore body, made her hesitate in answering him.

  He didn’t wait long, “Maybe tomorrow?”

  She nodded, looking down at the floor.

  Slade did not return to eat midday. Jillian had some letters to write, so she was not bored. She was, however, concerned that she had offended her husband.

  Mrs. Bailey found her in the music room, inspecting the pianoforte.

  “Do you play, madam?”

  Jillian looked up, “I did when I was young, but I have not played in years, and I was not very faithful to practice even then.”

  Mrs. Bailey smiled, “It is difficult to learn that way.”

  Jillian sighed from her position, “My mother played beautifully, but she never pressured me to follow her love of it. I think she hoped I would eventually decide on my own to pursue it.”

  “But you did not?”

  Jillian realized the woman had likely not come in to discuss her musical abilities, “Is there something you need from me, Mrs. Bailey?”

  The housekeeper nodded, “I was wondering when you would like to prepare the menu for next week.”

  Jillian knew what was expected of her as the mistress, but she had not known how to go about opening the discussion.

  “I am free now, Mrs. Bailey,” she rose gingerly, “but I think we should leave the remainder of the conference for the morning.”

  Bailey nodded, “If you wish to defer the menu discussion until tomorrow, we will not suffer for it.”

  Jillian smiled, “I am certain I can trust your hand in all matters, but I do not wish to neglect my duties. I would prefer to meet after breakfast as his grace is an early riser and will wish to eat before leaving for the day.”

  “As you wish.”

  “And you would meet me in the dining room?” she mentioned the location Mrs. Kern was wont to meet with her.

  “If you wish, though the master has seen fit to provide me with an office.”

  “I will ask Erin to show me where it is in the morning.”

  Bailey nodded respectfully and began to leave the room.

  “Mrs. Bailey,” Jillian stopped her, “I would appreciate being informed as soon as the duke returns to the house.”

  Mrs. Bailey appeared to be smiling though her lips remained in a straight line, “Would you care to know when he nears the house?”

  “Please,” she was glad the woman ha
d asked, “as soon as someone is aware of his arrival. Thank you.”

  The housekeeper left and Jillian went back to her room to locate the collar she was making for Amy.

  She had embroidered a full row of roses by the time Erin knocked at her sitting room door, “The master has returned, Miss,” she did not correct herself this time in how she addressed her mistress.

  Jillian rose, “Is my hair in place Erin?”

  Erin smiled broadly, “If you’ll sit down, Miss, I’ll gladly arrange it again.”

  Jillian went into her room and set her handiwork aside, “Is my dress acceptable, Erin?”

  “Begging your pardon, Miss, but I dinna think your husband is going to be looking you over for faults.”

  Jillian sank into the chair at her dressing table, using her arms to slow the descent to her aching backside, “I am being as silly as a young girl at her first ball.”

  “I think it is nice,” Erin offered her opinion.

  Jillian never chided her for her familiarity. The girl never did it in the presence of others, and it was never unkind. The mistress found herself as grateful for the assistance now as she had been when she was escaping her uncle.

  Erin worked quickly, and Jillian rose to go find her husband.

  Mrs. Bailey was in the corridor at the bottom of the stairs when Jillian descended.

  “Is he in his study?”

  Bailey nodded, “And I believe Mr. Tellem just left.

  “Thank you.”

  Her aching joints forced her to walk at a dignified pace, though she would have liked to hurry a bit. It was surprising to her how much she wanted to see Slade. They had only been apart for hours.

  She knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” his tone had an edge to it that made her wonder if she was disturbing him.

  She opened the door and stepped inside, “Shall I return later?”

  He looked up from the drawing and a smile lit his features, “Jillian,” he rose, “this is a surprise.”

  She took another step into the room, “I am sorry it is.”

  His eyes registered confusion, “You are?”

  She came and joined him at his drafting table, “I believe my behavior this morning gave you the wrong impression that I do not desire your company.”