by Laura Beers
“But you are merely a woman.”
“Women can enact change, Your Grace,” she remarked dryly.
“Very few can.”
Miss Blackmore squared her shoulders. “All the more reason for women to better educate themselves.”
Edmund shook his head, amused. “How could I possibly have forgotten that you were such a radical thinker?”
She smirked. “I prefer the term ‘progressive’.”
“Whatever you call it, it is still rubbish.”
“I’m afraid that I must respectfully disagree with you.”
With a knowing look, Edmund replied, “No sensible man wants to marry a bluestocking or a woman who is headstrong. It is important for a well-educated woman to soften her education with a graceful and feminine manner.”
“But you do agree that a woman should be educated?”
“I do,” he replied firmly. “A woman’s mind is a great asset to her husband, but she must hide her intellectual prowess from others. After all, she can’t appear too knowledgeable on any given subject.”
Miss Blackmore frowned. “That is balderdash.”
“Pardon?”
“Women spend their lives gaining accomplishments to be marriageable, but what if a woman chooses not to marry? Shouldn’t she be praised for her own accolades?”
Edmund let out a disbelieving huff. “What logical woman would willingly make the choice not to wed?”
“A woman who recognizes her worth is not tied to an advantageous marriage.”
“Then she would become a burden on her family.”
“Perhaps, but you must recognize that women have little choice in their own futures,” Miss Blackmore contended. “Once she marries, everything she has belongs to her husband. Her life becomes second to his.”
“Not every marriage is like that,” he argued.
“Amongst the ton, most are.”
Edmund placed his book on the table. “But what is the alternative for women?” he questioned. “Becoming a strain on their families or being forced to seek employment.”
“There are worse things than seeking employment,” she challenged.
“I would agree with you, but you are living here entirely at our discretion.” He put his hands up to emphasize his point. “You could be dismissed tomorrow, leaving you with no prospects.”
Miss Blackmore tilted her chin determinedly. “There are still worse things, like being trapped in a loveless marriage.”
Edmund grew rigid at her words, knowing she had spoken the truth. “That is true,” he growled. “A loveless marriage can suffocate you.”
Uncertainty crossed her delicate features as she took a step forward. “I in no way meant to imply—”
Edmund put his hand up, stilling her words. “You made your point, Miss Blackmore.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke, and only the sound of the gently crackling fire disturbed the silence.
Miss Blackmore’s gaze drifted to the floor. “I’m sorry if my words caused you pain,” she apologized hesitantly.
Edmund chuckled dryly. “You flatter yourself, Miss Blackmore. Your words cannot hurt me. That would imply that I value your opinion.”
Miss Blackmore’s eyes snapped up to meet his before she walked over to the open door. She stopped in the doorway and turned back around to face him. It was only then that he realized her expression was full of pity.
“I hope you find the happiness that you are seeking, your grace,” Miss Blackmore murmured before she departed from the room, closing the door behind her.
Pity! No, he didn’t want her pity. Edmund rose from his chair and stepped to the mantel above the fireplace. He placed his hands against it and leaned in.
“Blast it,” he grumbled under his breath.
What right did Miss Blackmore have to come into his library and disturb his solitude? She didn’t. He would teach her a lesson and forbid her from going into the library. Then, she would be forced to recognize her place.
But he didn’t want to do that. He saw how her face lit up as she perused the books. No, he couldn’t do that to her. Besides, he couldn’t care less what Miss Blackmore thought about him. He had been right when he said her words meant nothing to him.
So why did they resonate deep inside of him?
“Did the man explain why you should be wary of the duke?” her lady’s maid asked as she brushed her brown tresses.
“He did not,” Amelia replied.
“Don’t you find it rather strange that a man is in the woodlands at the precise time you are there, and he gives you an ominous warning about the duke?”
“But his land borders the duke’s, and he only approached me when he saw me crying.”
Leah went and placed the brush onto the dressing table. “Has the duke made any threats towards you?”
“None.”
“Do you have any reason to fear him?”
Amelia shook her head. “He may be intolerably rude, but he has never given me a reason to be frightened of him.”
Leah twisted her hair into a tight chignon and tied it with a blue ribbon. “That should do nicely for your ride,” she acknowledged before stepping back.
Rising, Amelia smoothed out the skirt of her grey riding habit. “Have you spoken with any of the servants about the duke?”
“Not directly, but I have found his valet, Bartlett, to be quite accommodating,” her lady’s maid shared as she went about arranging the dressing table.
Amelia arched an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
Leah stopped what she was doing and turned to meet her gaze. “There is nothing untoward about it.”
“I never implied that there was.” Amelia found herself growing more amused at how defensive her lady’s maid was acting.
“Good, because Bartlett is just a kind man.”
Amelia tried to stifle her smile, but she failed miserably. “I am glad to hear it. Perhaps you can ask Bartlett how her grace died.”
“Do you suspect she didn’t die during childbirth?”
“No, but I just can’t help but wonder if there is more to the story.”
“Such as?”
Amelia winced slightly. “I am not entirely sure, but something feels odd about Harrowden Hall. Can you feel it?”
Leah walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of riding gloves. “I do not, but I spend the majority of my time in your bedchamber or the servant’s quarters.”
“There are secrets here,” Amelia said. “Secrets that I intend to sort out.”
Walking over to her, her lady’s maid extended the gloves to her. “It might be best if you just focus on the task that originally brought us to Harrowden Hall.”
“I can do both.”
Leah gave her a look of censure. “I can’t help but think this will end poorly for you.”
Amelia stepped over to the door and placed her hand on the handle. “The worst thing that can happen is the duke will dismiss me.”
“I would be cautious, especially since the duke is not one to be trifled with,” Leah warned.
“Neither am I,” she said with a smirk, opening the door and departing from the room.
Amelia hurried down the hall as she headed towards the breakfast parlour. She was fortunate enough to run into Morton in the entry hall, and she requested that a horse be saddled. Then, she stepped into the breakfast parlour and saw the duke sitting at the head of the table.
He let out a sigh when their eyes met, not bothering to hide his annoyance. “Miss Blackmore,” he greeted as he rose from his seat.
“Good morning,” she replied cheerfully, waving him back down. “How are you this fine morning?”
The duke grunted an incoherent reply under his breath as she stepped over to the buffet table. A footman handed her a plate and she dished up some eggs and plum cake.
As she sat down to his right, the duke asked, “May I ask why you have risen so early?”
Amelia laid her napkin on her lap. “I enjoy riding
in the morning hours. The air is crisp and still.”
“That is something that we have in common, then.”
Amelia smiled. “I daresay that is the only thing we have in common.”
The duke’s lips twitched, but he didn’t return her smile.
A footman placed a cup of chocolate in front of her and stepped back. She immediately reached for it and took a sip of the warm beverage.
“I am surprised you did not request a tray to be brought to your room,” the duke said, watching her closely.
Amelia put her cup back on its saucer. “I prefer eating in the breakfast parlour.”
“Why is that?”
“Honestly, I don’t enjoy lounging in bed,” she admitted. “I find idleness does not suit me, and I become restless quite easily.”
The duke nodded approvingly. “Did you enjoy reading Faust last night?”
“I did,” she replied. “Thank you for allowing me to read from your impressive collection of books.”
“You are welcome, Miss Blackmore.”
Amelia reached for her fork and started eating her food as silence fell between them, the air filled with tension.
The duke picked up the newspaper from the table and started reading.
After she finished her breakfast, Amelia laid her fork on her plate. “Is there anything particularly interesting in the newspaper this morning?” she asked.
The duke lowered the paper to meet her gaze, and she could see the irritation in his eyes. “Nothing that would interest you,” he replied dismissively.
“Perhaps not, but I would still like to know.”
With a frown, he shared, “Most of the articles are about the war with Napoleon, the food shortages, the detailed reports of debates in the House of Commons, and the skirmish over in the American colonies.”
“What is the latest news on the war?”
The duke just shook his head as he flipped through the newspaper. “I imagine you would be more interested in the society page.”
“Why is it so inconceivable that I could be interested in the war?”
He removed a page and extended it towards her. “Because it is unsavory to discuss the war with a woman.”
Amelia accepted the page and started reading the society page. Her eyes landed on the date and she looked over at him in surprise. “This is today’s newspaper.”
“It is,” he replied. “I have a rider deliver the newspapers from London every morning.”
“You do?”
He nodded. “I like to be kept abreast of the latest news.”
“May I ask you a question?” she asked, placing the page on the table.
“Would it make a difference if I say no?”
She gave a half-shrug. “Most likely not.”
The duke glanced heavenward and let out an annoyed huff. “Then what do you wish to know?”
“Why aren’t you in London for the Season?”
“I detest London,” he replied, reaching for his teacup.
“Why?”
“It is far too crowded for my tastes, the smell is horrid, and the streets are filthy,” he asserted. “I only travel to Town when my vote is required at the House of Lords.”
“But what of the entertainment of London?”
“Balls, soirées, and house parties hold little interest for me. I much prefer the quiet life of the countryside.”
“I agree with you.”
“You do?”
“I grow tired of attending social functions, knowing the same people will be in attendance,” Amelia answered. “I would rather be racing my horse through the fields or taking a stroll through the gardens.”
The duke considered her for a moment. “Do you miss your place in Society?” he asked.
She grinned. “Who says I ever left it?”
“But you are merely a companion now,” he remarked simply.
“I am well aware.”
He eyed her curiously. “Are you?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“One might argue that you don’t have the restraint one would expect of someone who has experienced reduced circumstances.”
Amelia sipped the last of her chocolate. “This may come as a surprise,” she said as she put her cup down, “but I have never been a companion before.”
“No?” he asked. “You could have fooled me.” His lips twitched, but again, he did not smile. What would it take to get the duke to smile, she wondered.
“Perhaps there is a book on being a companion in your extensive library,” she joked.
“I doubt it, Miss Blackmore.” He pushed back his chair and rose. “If you will excuse me, I have a meeting with my solicitor.”
Amelia waited until the duke departed from the room before she headed towards the entry hall.
The butler stepped out from the drawing room. “Your horse is saddled and waiting out front, miss,” he informed her.
“Thank you, Morton,” she said as she exited the main door.
She was pleased to see the same chestnut mare that she had ridden the day before. The groom assisted her onto the side saddle, and she walked her horse until she reached the end of the gravel drive. Then, she kicked her horse into a run.
6
“I think we should go shopping,” the duchess announced as she walked purposefully into the drawing room.
Amelia stifled a groan as she lowered her book to her lap. She would rather be doing anything else.
Ellen walked over to the window and stared out. “I don’t feel like being cooped up here all afternoon, and I think the fresh air will do me some good.”
“We could always take a stroll through the gardens,” Amelia suggested. “I would love to see the secret garden.”
“Perhaps tomorrow,” Ellen replied, turning to face her. “But today, we will go shopping!”
Amelia could hear the excitement in the duchess’s voice, and she didn’t have the heart to deny her this pleasure. “What kind of shops are in the village?” she asked, feigning interest.
“Our village boasts a dressmaker and a milliner shop,” the duchess shared. “There is even a bakery where you can purchase delectable pastries.”
Amelia laid the book on the table next to her. “I do love pastries.”
“Wonderful!” Ellen declared. “And I shall purchase you a hat.”
Placing her hand up, she replied, “I don’t need another hat.”
“Nonsense! Every sensible woman needs more hats,” the duchess declared. “Besides, I couldn’t help but notice that you don’t wear one when you go riding.”
“That is because I prefer not to wear a hat when I go riding.”
Ellen tsked. “You may be young and vigorous now, but you must think of your complexion as you age. Sheltering your delicate skin now from the sun will benefit you greatly in the future.”
A smile came to Amelia’s face. “You sound a lot like my mother.”
“Good, because your mother was rather clever.”
“I would agree.”
A short time later, Amelia found herself in a carriage as they drove towards the village. She had changed into a pale green gown, and Ellen had persuaded her to wear a bonnet.
“I do so hope you love our quaint village,” Ellen said as she sat across from her. “My Charles helped rebuild it, making it what it is today.”
“That was most kind of him.”
A wistful expression came to Ellen’s face. “I wish you had met Charles. He was a lot like Edmund in many ways.”
Amelia lifted her brow in response but decided it would be best if she remained quiet.
Ellen laughed. “I know what you are thinking, but Edmund wasn’t always so surly.”
“No?” she asked, finding that hard to believe.
The duchess shook her head. “He was such a cheerful and exuberant boy, and we used to hear his laughter echoing through the halls of Harrowden Hall. I must admit I grew quite melancholy when we sent him to Eton. I felt like I had lost a par
t of myself, and the days didn’t seem quite as exciting anymore.”
“I am sorry to hear that.”
A wistful expression came to Ellen’s face. “Fortunately, I had my Charles, and we got along nicely. I just wish we had been able to spend more time together before he died. He was always in meetings, and I only really saw him at night.”
“I can’t imagine the pressures of being a duke.”
“They are great and never-ending.” Ellen sighed. “Fortunately, Charles did not share Edmund’s disdain of London, and we spent the Seasons in Town.”
“Did His Grace always despise London?”
A sad, pensive look came over Ellen’s expression. “You must understand that Edmund changed after he married Alice. Then, after her death, he became a man I hardly recognize.”
“That must be hard, to be trapped in a loveless marriage,” Amelia murmured.
“There is so much more to it than that, I’m afraid.”
Amelia remained silent, hoping the duchess would confide in her. But when she didn’t, she decided to ask a question of her own. “Do you know why the woodlands are forbidden to ride in?”
Ellen pressed her lips together and didn’t speak for a long moment. “The woodlands are a dangerous place, I’m afraid.”
“Are you referring to the animals or the terrain?”
“My dear, there is something far more treacherous in those woods than the animals,” the duchess warned.
Amelia leaned forward in her seat. “What exactly are you referring to?”
Before Ellen could respond, the coach came to a stop. The footman exited his perch at the rear of the coach and opened the door. Then, he extended the step so that she and the duchess could exit.
Once Amelia stepped onto the cobbled street, she admired the stone buildings with thatched roofs lined up next to one another. She watched as the people walked along the pavement, tipping their heads respectfully at the duchess.
“This village is lovely,” Amelia acknowledged.
Ellen came to stand next to her. “It is.” Her voice was filled with pride. “If we hurry, I will be able to take you on a tour of the church. It dates back to the 1500s.”
“I would enjoy that.”