by Laura Beers
After his mother had departed, his steward, Mr. Levi Ridout, stepped into the room holding a stack of ledgers. The man was thoroughly nondescript with his receding hairline, blue eyes framed by spectacles, and round face.
“I come with good news, Your Grace,” his steward said as he approached the desk.
Edmund sat down in his chair. “I am glad to hear that. Frankly, I could use some.” He pointed at the chair to indicate that his steward should sit.
Mr. Ridout placed the ledgers on the desk before sitting down. “I managed to purchase the fifty acres from the Lowell family.”
“How did you manage that feat?” Edmund asked, genuinely surprised. “I thought they were adamant about not selling.”
“I merely made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.”
Edmund arched an eyebrow in response.
Mr. Ridout chuckled as he pushed his spectacles up higher on his nose. “Do not worry. It was still well below the actual worth of the land.”
“I am happy to hear that.”
Reaching for one of the ledgers, Mr. Ridout said, “It is my privilege to inform you that you are now one of the largest landowners in all of England.”
“That does please me.”
Mr. Ridout extended him the ledger. “And this is what you are projected to make this coming quarter.”
Edmund saw a generous number circled and replied, “I am impressed. Since I hired you nearly four years ago, you have nearly doubled my quarterly profits.”
“I am merely doing what you hired me to do, Your Grace.” Mr. Ridout closed the ledger. “Would you care to tour your new lands?”
Edmund shook his head. “I am unable to be gone for a few days at the moment.”
“Why is that?”
“We are in the process of trying to hire a new nurse for Lady Sybil.”
“What happened to the one you just recently hired? A Miss Rowe, I believe?” Mr. Ridout questioned.
Edmund frowned. “Apparently, she decided to seek other employment.”
A baffled look came to his steward’s face. “If that was the case, then why did I meet her in town this morning?”
“You did?”
Mr. Ridout nodded. “I bumped into her on the pavement and I offered my apologies. We spoke briefly for a few moments before I had to ride out to meet with one of your tenants.”
“That is odd,” Edmund commented. “Why would she have come all this way only to turn down my offer of employment by way of a letter?”
“I cannot say,” Mr. Ridout replied, picking up another ledger from the pile. “But I wanted to speak to you about what was discussed at the last tenant’s meeting.”
“Which was?”
“Mr. Skinner informed me that his roof is leaking,” Mr. Ridout shared. “If we provide him with the material, then he would be happy to do the work himself.”
“That sounds more than fair.”
Mr. Ridout bobbed his head approvingly. “That is what I thought you would say, so I already ordered the material.” He smiled. “That was the only easy issue. Now let’s discuss how Charlie Thrup would like you to invest in the installation of drainages in his fields.”
“What does that entail?”
“Heavy clay soils where excess water builds up makes plowing more difficult. Furthermore, it hurts the growth and root structure of the plants,” his steward explained. “Charlie would like to install rows of drains that would be cut beneath the surface. Ultimately, they will move the water away from the fields.”
“Do you believe it is necessary?”
Mr. Ridout leaned forward in his chair. “It may take some time before you turn a profit, but I believe it would be beneficial in the end.”
“Then so be it.”
“I will see to it, then,” his steward said. “Mr. Terrell wants a new…”
For the next few hours, Edmund listened intently as his steward rattled on and on about his tenants and their needs. He took his role very seriously, despite it being a heavy responsibility to shoulder, because there was too much at stake for him to slack off.
“Oh dear,” the duchess muttered as she pulled the needle out from the fabric she was holding. “I can’t believe you called my son ‘insufferable’.”
Amelia lowered her own needlework to her lap. “It was no less than he deserved, I assure you.”
“I have no doubt, but he is rather vexed about it. “
“Is he ever not vexed?”
Ellen looked up at her with an amused expression on her face. “That is terrible of you to say, but it is not entirely inaccurate.”
“My sisters have often said I need to curb my sharp tongue, but sometimes it is unleashed at the most inopportune times.”
“Like when you insult a duke in his own home,” Ellen remarked knowingly.
Amelia blew out a puff of air. “Exactly.”
“Well, I can hardly blame you. I would have reacted in a similar fashion if someone had released a tirade of insults directed at me.”
Amelia pursed her lips together. “Your son is rather…” Her voice trailed off as she tried to think of the right word.
“Bothersome?” the duchess asked. “Infuriating?”
Amelia giggled as she brought her needlework back up and pushed the needle into the fabric. “I suppose both of those would suffice.”
Ellen grew solemn. “Be patient with Edmund. He is forced to shoulder a lot of responsibility and he has been doing it alone for some time now.”
Glancing over at the open door of the drawing room, Amelia asked in a hushed voice, “Are you sure he is even interested in matrimony?”
“He has tasked me with finding him a bride.”
“That may be true, but I can’t help but wonder if it is more out of duty than desire.”
Ellen offered her a sad smile. “You wouldn’t be wrong in that regard.”
“We strive to find our clients love matches, but the duke may be an impossible case.”
“I don’t believe that to be true,” Ellen replied. “My son has just lost a part of himself for now.”
Amelia pushed her needle upward into the fabric, huffing out a frustrated breath when the knot she’d created on the back side refused to allow the thread to pass through.
“I will stay for a few more days, but I can’t promise that we will be able to secure a match for him,” Amelia confessed. “He is the most difficult case.”
“Have you had other difficult cases?”
Amelia grinned as she flipped the fabric over and started picking at the knot. “We just had one of our more difficult clients marry. He was rather obsessed with dams.”
“Dams?”
“All types of dams,” Amelia replied, “and before that it, was bridges. I did learn the most fascinating details about dams, but none of it was useful.”
“I can imagine.”
Amelia finished widening the knot and pulled the thread through. “We have had clients who were extremely shy and one who would just blurt out whatever came to her mind.” Placing her needlework on the velvet settee next to her, she continued. “But even in the most extreme cases, we’ve been able to find suitable matches for them.”
Ellen cocked her head. “How did you become a matchmaker?”
“That was my older sister’s doing,” Amelia explained. “Kate is a firm believer in true love, despite losing her betrothed in a terrible accident.”
“How awful.”
“It was, but Kate has found happiness again with Lord Berkshire.”
The duchess smiled. “I am happy to hear that.”
“My younger sister Hannah and I may have played a hand in ensuring Kate and Edward ended up together,” she admitted.
“Truly?”
Amelia nodded. “It was just so evident that they belonged together.”
Ellen lowered her needlework to her lap. “That is what I want for my son,” she sighed. “Edmund and his first wife were so mismatched, and they fought incessantly.”
“How
did he meet his first wife?”
“Unfortunately, my husband arranged a marriage for Edmund at a young age, something I knew nothing about,” the duchess said firmly. “If I had been made aware of his intentions, I would have put a stop to it.”
“May I ask why your husband arranged a marriage for his son, then?”
The duchess frowned. “Alice was the eldest daughter of the Earl of Gunther, and her dowry consisted of thousands of acres of prime farmland,” she shared. “My husband was a lovely man, but he was obsessed with becoming the largest landowner in all of England. So, a deal was struck, and a contract was signed.”
“How did your son take the news?”
“At first, he was pleased. Alice was a bright young woman, and she was very beautiful, the envy of the ton,” Ellen said. “But she was never content living at Harrowden Hall. She hated being so far away from London and her family.”
“I am sorry to hear that.”
“My son loves being outdoors and in nature. He goes for a ride every morning and will be gone for hours.”
“I can relate to that, considering how beautiful his lands are. It is quite picturesque here.”
“That it is,” the duchess agreed. “Edmund needs a woman who enjoys the quiet, mundane life of the countryside.”
Amelia bobbed her head. “That is an easy enough request,” she said. “What else?”
“Even though my son would never admit it,” Ellen glanced over at the door, “he enjoys sketching.”
“Truly?”
Ellen smiled. “He is quite good at it.”
“What other interesting hobbies does the duke have?” Amelia asked curiously.
Placing her needlework down, the duchess reached for her cup of tea on the table next to her. “I don’t know about interesting, but he enjoys fencing, boxing, and the other usual sports for gentlemen. He is also an avid reader and has the most unique mind.”
“In what way?”
“Everything he reads, he seems to remember perfectly,” Ellen revealed. “It has been that way since he was a child.”
“I wish I had that ability.”
“As do I.” The duchess took a long sip of her tea. As she placed the cup back onto the saucer, she said, “Edmund has been through a lot, especially losing his wife in such a traumatic fashion.”
Feigning ignorance, Amelia asked, “How did she die?”
Ellen paused. “During childbirth.”
There was something in her voice that caused Amelia to suspect there was more to the story. But before she could ask, the duchess changed the subject abruptly.
“May I ask how old you are?”
“I am twenty-two.”
Ellen placed her cup and saucer onto the tray and leaned back. “Which would mean that you were only seventeen when your mother and father died in that terrible carriage accident.”
“That’s correct.”
With a voice full of compassion, the duchess said, “I wept for days upon hearing the horrific news.”
“Kate mentioned that you were dear friends with my mother.”
“Yes,” Ellen replied. “Isabel and I grew up in the same village, and I remember fondly how many hours we spent gardening.”
“Gardening?”
The duchess smiled wistfully. “Did you not know that your mother loved playing with dirt?”
“I was not aware of that fact.”
“Isabel had the magic touch and could bring any plant back to life.” The duchess sighed. “Frankly, there was very little that your mother wasn’t good at.”
Lowering her gaze to her lap, Amelia murmured, “I miss her dreadfully.”
“I can only imagine, my dear, and I am sorry for bringing it up.”
“Nonsense.” Amelia brought her gaze back up. “If you don’t mind, I would love to hear more about my mother.”
“Gladly,” Ellen said cheerfully. “You remind me very much of your mother.”
“I do?”
“Isabel would not have stood by and allowed anyone to insult her, either. She was clever and quick-witted. That is why she was so beloved by the ton.”
Amelia grinned. “My mother was constantly chiding me for being unladylike.”
Ellen clasped her hands together. “That amuses me greatly, because when Isabel was younger, I caught her wearing trousers.”
“My mother wore trousers?”
“She did,” Ellen shared. “She convinced the dressmaker to make her a pair of trousers so she could garden in them.”
“She refused to let me wear trousers to go riding, no matter how much I pleaded.”
The duchess nodded approvingly. “I must side with your mother on this one. I would never have let my daughters wear trousers. It is much too scandalous.”
“I feel it is rather tame,” Amelia admitted.
Turning her gaze towards the window, the duchess remarked, “I suppose I should go rest before dinner.”
“Would you like me to escort you to your room?”
Ellen rose. “Heavens, no. I am not an invalid.” She smiled, softening her words. “You can stay and continue working on your needlework.”
Amelia reached over and picked back up the fabric. “I believe I shall.”
5
Edmund stoked the fire until the flames began to crackle before returning to his brown leather sofa. A lone candle burned on a table next to him as he picked up his book. His black dinner jacket was draped on the back of the sofa, and his cravat hung loosely around his neck.
He found some solace in his nightly ritual. Every night, immediately after dinner, he would adjourn to the library to read and be alone. The servants knew not to disturb him, and he enjoyed the solitude. Although, he had to be careful not to dwell on his thoughts for too long, because the familiar dark torment would creep in, ruining his peace.
The sins of his past threatened to consume him from time to time, taking with him every ounce of joy that he possessed. Which, frankly, wasn’t much. At times, his anger was the only thing keeping him going. He knew he didn’t deserve happiness, not after what he’d done to Alice. What he did to her was unforgivable.
Edmund was surprised when the library door opened and Miss Blackmore walked into the room. She was still dressed in the pale blue gown she had worn during dinner. Her brown hair was piled atop her head and two long curls framed her oval face perfectly.
Miss Blackmore’s steps faltered when she saw him, and she dropped into a curtsy. “My apologies, Your Grace,” she said. “I was just here to collect a book.”
Edmund grunted his permission before turning back to his book.
Miss Blackmore walked over to the shelves and started running her fingers along the spines. To his great annoyance, she started humming an unfamiliar tune.
“Would you mind stopping that?” Edmund demanded.
Amelia turned to face him with a baffled look on her face. “What exactly would you like me to stop?”
“Your incessant humming.”
“Of course, Your Grace. I hadn’t even realized I was doing so,” Amelia replied as she turned her attention back to selecting a book.
Edmund tapped his leg with his finger as he tried to determine what song she had been humming, but he was unable to. Blast my curiosity, he thought.
Shifting in his seat, he said, “I am unfamiliar with the song you were humming.”
Her eyes remained fixed on the books, not bothering to spare him a glance. “That is because I wrote the song myself.”
“You did?” He had to admit that his impression of her rose slightly.
“I often write songs, which I accompany on the guitar.”
“That is admirable.”
Sliding a book out from its place on the shelf, Amelia turned back to face him. “Sometimes when I am alone, thoughts or impressions come into my head, and I feel inspired to write them down. Eventually, I turn my thoughts into a song.”
“I daresay that no one would want to hear my thoughts being sung alo
ud.”
“Why is that exactly?”
“Because my thoughts aren’t exactly jovial.”
Miss Blackmore clutched the book to her chest. “Neither are mine.”
“No?” Edmund asked. “I had just assumed your head was filled with nonsensical stuff and whatnot.”
“Your assumptions would be wrong, again.” Her response was curt. “I have experienced heartache and sorrow, as well.”
He scoffed. “Have you?”
A pained look came over Amelia’s face. “Five years ago, I lost both of my parents in a carriage accident, causing my whole world to be upended.”
Edmund could hear the sadness in her voice, and he immediately felt like a cad. “I am sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you for that,” Amelia said. “Writing my thoughts and impressions down helped me greatly as I grieved for my parents.”
“How old were you when they died?” he found himself asking.
“I was seventeen.”
Edmund frowned. “I was twenty-five when I lost my father. It was shortly after I wed Alice.” His frown deepened. Why had he just admitted that?
“It is never easy to lose someone we love, no matter the age,” she murmured.
“No, it is not.”
Miss Blackmore gave him a timid smile. “If you will excuse me, I will read this book in my bedchamber and leave you in peace.”
For some inexplicable reason, he found himself not ready to say goodnight to her. “What book did you select?”
Amelia held the brown book up. “Faust by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe,” she replied. “And you need not worry, I shall return it to its exact place when I am finished.”
“ ‘As soon as you trust yourself, you will know how to live,’ ” he quoted.
Looking at him with surprise on her features, she asked, “You have read Faust?”
“I have,” he informed her. “Although, I am surprised you have.”
“Then you don’t know me at all.” She smiled. “I devour every book that I can get my hands on. I enjoy bettering myself.”
“Do you?”
Miss Blackmore opened the book and read, “ ‘Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.’ ” She closed the book. “That is my favorite line. It reminds me that I am capable of great things, but I just have to believe in the possibilities.”