Chapter 5

Chapter Five

“ P lease, make yourself at home.”

The Duke’s words sounded cold and impersonal, even if they were technically welcoming. Rosalie glanced up at him as she stepped into the hall of her new home. She had never been to the Duke’s residence before, and she couldn’t help but look around with a mixture of curiosity and admiration.

The hall was beautiful, cavernous with high ceilings and lots of light. The floors were white marble set with large, tropical plants in the corners, giving it a jungle-like feel she had never seen before in a house. The wainscoting on the walls was painted white, above which were French scenic papers of an idyllic countryside. There was also a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling that glinted off the afternoon sunlight that was filtering in through the large bay windows, casting rainbows of color throughout.

“It’s beautiful,” she said tentatively. “The paintings are… unusual.”

Most houses she knew had stuffy oil portraits of previous lords and ladies who had lived in the grand residences. But the paintings the Duke had decided to fill the hall were watercolors in a variety of styles, all depicting lush, exotic landscapes.

“I purchased them when I was in the Army,” the Duke said, coming to stand in front of one of several high mountains. “When I was stationed in different locations around North Africa and India.”

“I like them,” Rosalie said. She was no expert in art, but she could appreciate the delicate color schemes and careful control of texture and lines.

The Duke looked at her with something akin to suspicion, and she flushed.

“I’m not just trying to flatter you,” she stated flatly, and the corner of his mouth twitched. Was he trying to smile?

“I didn’t imagine that you were,” he replied, bowing. “I know you well enough to know that you always speak your mind.”

She couldn’t think of anything to say to this. It almost seemed like a compliment.

“May I see my room?” she asked instead. “I’m eager to rest.”

“Of course,” he said brusquely, his cold manner returning at once. He handed his cane and hat to the butler and then strode to the stairs. Rosalie followed tentatively. Usually, the housekeeper would show her to her bedroom, and it felt foreboding that it was her husband who led the way up the stairs. They had not discussed their wedding night yet.

“Here you are,” he said, when they finally stopped outside of a door in the family wing of the house. “This is the former Duchess’ room. It has been redecorated for your comfort. I will let you rest now.”

Rosalie was a bit surprised. She had been expecting him to come in with her, but she was relieved that he wasn’t.

Maybe he means to come later? The thought filled her with dread.

He pushed open the door to the room and stood back to let her inside. She moved past him, careful not to brush against him, and then had to hold in a gasp.

The walls had been decorated with a pale pink wallpaper stamped with delicate gold filigree flowers. The large four-poster bed had a canopy of gauzy white curtains. The vanity was made of white marble, and the mirror atop it was also gilded in gold. There was a writing desk in another corner and next to it, bookshelves filled with books.

It wasn’t just that it was beautiful. It was that it looked exceedingly similar to the room she had lived in at her cousin’s house although more luxurious. Best of all, her suitcases had been set near the vanity which meant she would have all her things with her in her new home.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered as she stepped deeper into the room. “And it makes this whole place feel a little bit less alien.”

She turned, about to thank the Duke for such a lovely room, but he had gone, leaving the door just ajar. She frowned then stepped forward and shut the door, locking it quickly.

He can’t join me later if I don’t let him in , she reasoned although she felt a touch of guilt even as she thought it.

Before she threw herself on the bed and curled into herself, she went to the bookshelf. To her astonishment—and surprise—it had been filled with all her books.

Lord Carfield must have sent them! I told him he could keep them for his personal collection, that it was too inconvenient to send them, but he must not have listened!

And not only were the shelves filled with her books, but there were others whose titles she recognized that she had been planning to read.

“He gave me a wedding gift,” she murmured out loud to herself. She had never known her cousin to be so thoughtful. “Who knew he had such good taste in books?”

She plucked one from the shelf and settled down with it on the bed, not even bothering to get out of her dress and undo her stays. She needed to distract herself from everything that had happened today, and there was no better way to do that than to read. Even when her maid came by later, knocking on the door and telling her it was time for dinner, Rosalie didn’t move from the bed.

“I’m not hungry!” she called from where she was propped up on the pillows, already over a hundred pages into the book. “Tell the Duke to eat without me.”

“Do you want a plate sent up at least, My—Your Grace?”

“That won’t be necessary, Clara, thank you!”

She had no interest in eating, especially not with the Duke. All she wanted was to disappear inside of a novel with a happily ever after and try to pretend that she hadn’t ended up in the exact opposite of a romantic novel.

“I am beginning to grow worried about the Duchess,” Nathan said, looking over the top of his spectacles at Her Grace’s lady maid, who stood before him, trembling slightly under his imperious gaze. “She has now missed a whole days’ worth of meals.”

“Her Grace says she is not hungry,” the maid said in a squeak of a voice.

They were sitting at the dining room table where the footmen were laying out supper. It had been more than twenty-four hours now since Rosalie had moved into the house, and Nathan had not seen his wife once. If this lady’s maid was to be believed, she had been locked in her room the entire time.

“How can she not be hungry?” Nathan asked through gritted teeth. His frustration was getting the better of him, and he had to work to keep from yelling. Rosalie was acting like a child, and as much as he didn’t want to take it out on the maid, his patience was wearing thin. “It has been a day. No one can go a day without food and not be hungry.”

The maid hesitated, and a guilty look snuck across her face.

Nathan’s eyes narrowed as a thought occurred to him. “Has this happened before?” he asked more slowly. “When she was living with her cousin and her sisters?”

The maid swallowed, and her eyes darted to the door, as if contemplating escape.

“I’m sorry for speaking so harshly earlier,” Nathan said, modulating his tone as best as possible. “I am merely worried for the Duchess. No one should go this long without food. She’s my wife now, and she’s my responsibility. And I will not allow her to starve on my watch.”

The girl bobbed her head, and her shoulders seemed to relax a little. “I’m glad you’ve noticed, Your Grace,” she said, lowering her eyes. “Her cousin never noticed; he was too preoccupied with himself.”

“Ahhh. So, this has happened before.” Nathan leaned back in his chair. This is good information to know. And the maid is concerned as well which means she might be my ally.

“Sometimes, Your Grace. Her Grace is never hungry when she is upset.”

“I see.” Nathan didn’t like to think that marrying him had made her so upset that she wasn’t eating, but for now, he would have to put his pride aside. There were more important matters at stake. “Well, that isn’t acceptable. Not when we have food enough to feed a king’s court.”

He pushed back his chair with a loud scrape and stood up.

“What are you going to do?” the girl asked, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“I’m going to see Cook. And you’re coming with me.”

Five minutes later, he was down in the kitchen with Cook, and the lady’s maid—Clara was her name—was telling her all of her mistress’ favorite foods.

“Can you put a tray together of all these?” he asked when Clara was finally finished.

“I think so, Your Grace,” Cook replied, and she snapped her fingers at one of the scullery maids and began to shout orders. “Anything for our new Duchess,” she added with a smile to Nathan. “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but we are all very excited to welcome the Duchess here. We hope she will be happy with our service.”

“I’m sure she will,” Nathan said uneasily. He hoped it hadn’t given the servants offense that so far, Rosalie hadn’t shown her face.

“It’s been too long since we had a woman’s presence in the house,” Cook said with a sigh. “It will make the house cheerful and lively again, don’t you think?”

Nathan couldn’t remember a time the house had ever been cheerful and lively—certainly not when his father had been alive—but he nodded anyway.

“Do you think the Duchess will want to give a ball soon?” Cook asked as she began to set the tray with biscuits, cream and jam, several mince pies, and plum cake.

“Er, I don’t know,” Nathan said, frowning as he thought this over. “I have not discussed it with her yet.”

“Well, if she does, tell her that I will create a feast fit for kings!” Cook said proudly. “Although I admit, I am out of practice with large events. Your mother and father, may they rest in peace, rarely entertained.”

“I know you will do wonderfully,” Nathan said, and Cook beamed. “Let’s add more food to that tray,” he added. “A little bit of everything.”

“Very good,” Cook said, and she began to cut slices of ham from the hock on the countertop, part of which had been served earlier for breakfast.

“And the house?” Cook enquired. “Does she like it? I know that your mother worked very hard to make it so beautiful.”

“Yes, she likes the house,” Nathan agreed quickly. The Duchess had seemed impressed by the hall, but that was all of it she had really seen. A knot began to form in Nathan’s stomach: did Rosalie like the house?

“Of course, she may have her own tastes,” Cook considered. “And she may prefer to redecorate. Did she mention that to you?”

“No, she did not.” Nathan felt a blush creeping up his neck. With each of Cook’s questions, it was dawning on him that he knew almost nothing about the woman he had married. Only that she liked to read romantic novels and was a bit of a daydreamer.

“Well, that should be enough,” Cook said, sitting back to admire her handiwork. The tray was now full to bursting with every imaginable food. Cook seemed to have emptied the larder for it, and Nathan felt a twinge of relief.

“Thank you,” he said, as he picked up the tray. “I sincerely appreciate it.”

“Let me send for a footman,” Cook said, her eyes growing wide to see him carrying the tray. “You shouldn’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense, I am happy to,” Nathan said. “Anyway, I need to make sure she actually eats.”

Knock knock knock.

Rosalie started and looked up. She was lying on her bed so lost in the book she was reading that she wasn’t fully aware of where the knocking sound was coming from. Was someone actually trying to come into the room? Or had the knocking been in her imagination?

She shook herself and sat up, blinking as she looked around the room.

How long have I been reading? she wondered as she saw the sunlight cascading through the windows. I was so entranced that I hardly noticed time passing.

She stretched, and as she did so, she noticed the gnawing, empty feeling in her stomach. She was hungry. How long had it been since she’d eaten? Not that long, not more than two days. That was nothing; she could go much longer, she knew.

Knock knock knock.

This time, she knew she hadn’t imagined it. The knocking was hard and sharp, and Rosalie frowned at the door that led to the hallway.

“I told you I don’t want to be disturbed, Clara,” she called out. She stood and went to the door, just to make sure that it was still locked and the key firmly in place. To her relief, it was still securely locked.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

Rosalie’s eyes went wide. The knocking was not coming from the door right in front of her. The sound was coming from behind her…

“I don’t particularly care if you don’t want to be disturbed,” she heard a brusque male voice say, slightly muffled. She whipped around just in time to see the large mirror on the wall swing forward as a secret second door opened, and the Duke of Carramere entered, a thunderous look on his face and a tray piled high with food in his hands.

“I’ve brought you food,” he snarled, “and I’m not leaving until you eat it.”