Chapter 19

"Oh, my head…" Those were William's first words upon waking up on the couch of his drawing room, as he wrestled with the aftermath of the previous day's events. The lingering effects of the smoke from the barn fire couples with the vengeful remnants of the brandy he had shared with Stephen had left him feeling decidedly worse for wear.

He rubbed wearily at his temples, the dull ache in his head serving as a constant reminder of his own vulnerability. Despite his best efforts to push through the discomfort, each movement seemed to exacerbate the throbbing sensation that pulsed behind his eyes.

With a resigned sigh, William resigned himself to the fact that he would need to take it easy for the day. There were pressing matters to attend to, of course—the aftermath of the fire, repairs to be made, and inquiries to be made into the cause of the blaze—but for now, he knew that his first priority was to regain his strength and composure.

Just as he was wondering whether to stay in bed or go downstairs to eat something, so his stomach would stop protesting, a knock on the door interrupted his weighing.

"Yes?" he called out, but even the sound of his own voice created turmoil and anguish.

The door opened gently and Mr. Hancock entered, carrying a tray with a modest but thoughtful breakfast.

"Good morning, Your Grace," Mr. Hancock greeted, setting the tray on a nearby table. "I thought you might appreciate something light to eat. How are you feeling this morning?"

William managed a faint smile, grateful for the gesture. "Thank you, Mr. Hancock. I'm feeling a bit rough, to be honest. The smoke from the fire and the brandy haven't done me any favors."

Mr. Hancock nodded sympathetically; his usual reserved demeanor softened with genuine concern. "It is understandable, Your Grace. Yesterday was quite the ordeal. I trust you will take it easy today?"

William sighed, glancing at the plate of food of freshly baked bread, a selection of cheeses, and a pot of tea. "Yes, I suppose I must. There are matters to attend to, but I need to regain my strength first."

Mr. Hancock poured a cup of tea and handed it to William. "Your Grace, the manor and its affairs can wait a day. Your health is paramount. If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to ask."

William took the cup, the warmth seeping into his hands, and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Hancock. Your support means a great deal."

Mr. Hancock gave a small, respectful bow. "It's my duty and my pleasure, Your Grace. Please, take care of yourself."

"I will try to do so, Mr. Hancock, thank you," William responded. Then, he remembered their guest. "And what about Stephen? Is he up yet?"

Mr. Hancock thought about it for a moment, then he shook his head. "I'm afraid that I have not seen Mr. Trent since last night when I showed him to his guest chamber. This morning, when I knocked on his door, there was no response, so I can only assume that he is still sleeping."

"Yes, that makes a lot of sense," William nodded, taking a sip of his tea and enjoying the slight sting of the heat against his raw throat. "I would gladly be asleep myself, but I've been tossing and turning all night on this couch."

"Your Grace should go to his chamber and try to go back to sleep," Mr. Hancock advised wisely. "There are no affairs more urgent than one's health."

"No sleeping for me, Mr. Hancock," William decided. "I shall have some of this delicious breakfast which you have so thoughtfully brought to me, and then I shall go and take a walk through the garden to the barn, to assess the damages."

"That can wait, Your Grace, truly," Mr. Hancock urged, but William was adamant.

"You know I don't like to lie in bed without any purpose," William reminded him. "Besides, a walk will do me good. Being in bed will only make me sleepier."

"As you wish, Your Grace," Mr. Hancock replied.

With that, he quietly exited the chamber, leaving William to his breakfast and his thoughts. William sipped the tea, the soothing warmth helping to ease the lingering aches. He reflected on the loyalty and dedication of his staff, feeling a renewed sense of gratitude for the people who cared for him and the manor.

As he ate, his mind drifted to Rose, recalling how she had cared for him after the fire, the tenderness in her touch, and the concern in her eyes. The events of the previous night, the unexpected kiss, and the complicated emotions it had stirred were still fresh in his mind.

He knew he needed to address these feelings, but for now, he allowed himself a moment of respite, focusing on recovering his strength and preparing for whatever the day might bring.

Once he was done with his tea and light breakfast, William got dressed, donned his coat, and stepped into the crisp morning air. He had to see for himself the extent of the destruction. As he approached the barn, the charred wood and lingering smell of smoke served as a grim reminder of how close he had come to losing something precious.

The barn, despite the fire, stood resilient, though visibly worse for wear. William walked through the scorched remains, taking note of the structural damage and mentally cataloging the repairs that would be needed.

He was so engrossed in his examination that he didn't hear the soft footsteps behind him. The first blow struck the back of his head with a sickening thud, sending him sprawling forward. Pain exploded in his skull, and his vision blurred. Dazed and disoriented, he tried to turn and see his assailant, but his movements were sluggish.

As he struggled to focus, a face loomed over him, partially obscured by the blinding pain and haze. All he could make out was a distinctive pendant hanging from the man's neck, swaying slightly as the figure moved closer. The pendant, simple but unique, seemed to glint in the dim light filtering through the damaged barn.

"Who...?" William tried to speak, but his voice was weak, and his words slurred.

The assailant didn't respond. Instead, another brutal blow landed, and darkness swiftly overtook William. His last conscious thought was a fleeting image of the pendant, burned into his mind, before everything went black.

***

Rose moved quietly around the drawing room, tidying up and adjusting the décor with meticulous care. Her mind, however, was far from her tasks. The events of the previous day played over and over in her head with disturbing clarity. She couldn't shake the image of William lying unconscious by the barn, nor could she forget the unsettling interaction with Mr. Trent in the kitchen.

She hoped fervently that the duke would wake up soon and that he would be all right. The thought of him hurt or in danger filled her with an anxiety she couldn't quite explain. She had grown very fond of him in the short time she had been working at Montford Manor, finding him to be a decent and kind man despite his scars and the harsh rumors that surrounded him.

As she rearranged a vase of fresh flowers, Rose's thoughts shifted to Mr. Trent. His abrupt awakening and the forceful grip on her wrist had left her feeling deeply unsettled. She tried to dismiss it as a misunderstanding, but a nagging doubt lingered in her mind. Why had he been so aggressive? And what had he meant by the things he said? Had she misread his intentions?

She couldn't help but wonder if Mr. Trent's actions were influenced by something William had said or done. But that seemed unlikely. William had always treated her with respect, even in moments of vulnerability. The kiss they shared was a lapse, a moment of intense emotion, but she couldn't believe he would speak ill of her to anyone.

Rose sighed and set the vase back down, her fingers lingering on the delicate petals. She needed to believe in William's integrity, even if she had only known him for a short while. There was a goodness in him that she had glimpsed, and she held onto that.

But the unease remained. Mr. Trent's words and actions had cast a shadow over her thoughts. She needed to make sense of it all, but how? She felt caught between loyalty to William and a growing wariness of Mr. Trent. The two men had seemed friendly enough, but something had changed, and she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

As she continued her work, Rose resolved to stay cautious and keep her distance from Mr. Trent. She needed to focus on her duties and ensure that the manor ran smoothly, especially in light of the recent troubles. And she needed to watch over the duke, to make sure he recovered fully and was safe from any further harm.

Rose was lost in her thoughts when a sudden commotion outside broke her reverie. She looked out the window and her heart nearly stopped. There near the barn, on the ground, was William, being kicked by three boys. Her brother Henry was among them. Horrified, she dropped the flowers she was holding and rushed outside, her skirts flying as she ran.

"Stop it!" she shouted. "Stop it this instant!"

The boys hesitated, their kicks faltering as they turned to see who was shouting. Henry's face turned pale as he recognized his sister. The other boys immediately ran away, guilt and fear evident on their faces. Henry, however, stood his ground, though his expression was conflicted.

"What on earth are you doing, Henry? Have you lost your mind?" she exclaimed incredulously, unable to believe that her brother was truly capable of such monstrosities.

Henry didn't say anything at first. He looked at her with malice she had never seen before. It made her almost afraid of her own brother. But she refused to look away, even for a single moment. Then he spoke.

"Don't you get it, Rose?" he asked, shaking his head. "This is all your fault! I had to do all of this… because of you!"