Chapter 6

“You seem much better today, Your Grace,” Elena, the dining room maid, noted proudly, beaming at Alice. “Your rest was better last night?”

“Yes, it was, Elena,” Alice replied happily, cutting off another bite of sausage. “In fact, I feel much improved. I believe I shall venture outside today and make myself accustomed.”

The first day Duncan was gone, Alice had moped around like a sad ghost as Mrs. Fletcher gave her a full tour of the manor and verandas. Her anger had turned into self-pity the night she saw him race away and she couldn’t do much more than sulk. By the second day though, she felt more like herself, and decided to test Duncan’s promise that she was allowed to do as she pleased.

To her pleasure, she discovered that she truly was allowed to explore every room, touch any fascinating object, and read any book. There were no limits to her discovery, and she had found a most wonderful albeit massively unorganized library. It was far smaller than the main one in the west wing, but it was cozier, more intimate.

When she opened one of the dusty, abandoned books, Alice immediately understood why this collection had been separated from the rest. Erotic, not romantic words jumped off the pages, and she immediately became consumed with her new discovery.

She had felt a little ashamed at first of her bold behavior on her wedding night. In truth, she had no idea where the sudden demand for lessons in lovemaking had come from. One minute she had been in control, the next she hadn’t. And she feared that lapse in control was the reason Duncan had disappeared.

Finding the books, though, distracted her from these thoughts, and she had spent the rest of the day curled up on the cushioned bench by one of the many windows, letting the warm sunlight illuminate both her body and her soul as she let the story take her away.

Now on her third day, with still no sign or word from Duncan, Alice decided that she wanted to return to the library later on after visiting the gardens. She had two reasons for this. The first was that she found the scent of the buds that drifted up to her room every night heavenly, and she loved it so much that she wanted to pick some to put in her room.

The second was because she had subtly been trying to pry more information about her husband out of each servant she’d become more familiar with. Unfortunately, everyone she’d questioned was as tightlipped and loyal to Duncan and his secrets as Mrs. Fletcher was. Mr. Fletcher was the only one who delivered news of him, would report that no, His Grace had not returned, and yes, all was well.

“I think that is an excellent idea, Your Grace,” Elena replied, picking up Alice’s now empty plate. “Shall I fetch your handmaid for you?”

“I think not,” Alice responded, rising from her seat. “Perhaps there is a gardener, though, that could help me fill a basket?”

“Oh, certainly,” Elena agreed readily, her eyes lighting up. “Mr. Maurice—or just Maurice to you, I imagine—will be out there tending to his precious poppies. I’ve never seen a man more dedicated to flowers, but he does an amazing job. He will be happy to help you.”

Alice thanked Elena for her help and strolled down the hallway, not at all in a rush. It wasn’t like Duncan was home. Maybe he was never coming home? Even if he would be, it wouldn’t matter. He had made it pretty clear the night he left that he was not interested in being with her as a husband would be with a wife.

“My, dearie me, my poor eyes cannot handle the beauty! Is that the new Duchess?”

It did not take Alice long to find the old man responsible for all of the beautiful flowers. She had barely made it through the first rose garden before Maurice’s voice broke through the stillness of the summer day.

“And you must be Maurice,” she replied warmly, smiling as she saw a rather rugged, grizzled man approach her with dirt smeared over his toothy grin.

Unlike the other servants, he was not dressed in a uniform but simple pants and a shirt—both stained with dirt and sweat. This man’s job was to work with the earth, and such a task required no fancy frills.

“How did you know it was me?” she asked, liking him immediately as he hobbled over to her.

“Oh, to be sure, a woman as radiant as you could be no other than royalty,” he replied with a foxish grin.

Alice laughed as he wiggled his eyebrows for effect. What a charmer he was!

“You are too kind,” she replied, seeing the opportunity. “Perhaps I could ask you to extend your kindness a bit further?”

Maurice took his hat in his hands and bowed to her low. “Anything, Your Grace,” he replied solemnly. “What may I help you with today? Are you looking for some roses to put in your rooms? Or some lilies?”

“Oh, an entire array would be lovely,” she replied, following him as he went back to his toolshed. “I should enjoy an entire tour of the gardens if you would have the time. But, I must admit, I have another request as well. I was hoping you could tell me about my husband.”

Maurice emerged from the toolshed with a large basket and a pair of pruning shears. His bushy eyebrows had flown up in surprise, and he appeared absolutely puzzled.

“I would be happy to give you a tour, Your Grace, but as for His Grace, I am certain you know more about him than I do.”

I don’t know him at all.

Alice followed him toward the well-trimmed, organized rose garden, which was filled to the brim with a variety of roses in all hues. She went to the pale green roses first, taken aback for a moment by the sight of them.

“How do you grow these?” she asked in awe. She leaned down to sniff the nearest bloom and sighed in relief. It was the same scent that came to her window!

“They are special seeds, Your Grace,” Maurice replied proudly, setting the large basket by the first bush. “They require much care before they even make it into the soil and even more afterward. But their scent and beauty are worth it, don’t you agree?”

“Positively,” Alice breathed, pulling away from the bud. “These, please, as many as possible. And perhaps some of those baby pink ones over there, and just a few of those smaller white ones over there.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Maurice replied eagerly, setting about his task.

Alice watched him in silence for a few minutes, trying to formulate her next question. It was obvious she couldn’t just ask him for information. He needed specific questions.

“The last Lady of the House,” she finally ventured, picking up one of the cut green roses from the basket, “did she like flowers in her room, too?”

Maurice looked up from a flowerbed, a whimsical look on his ruddy face. “That she did, Your Grace,” he confirmed. “The late Duchess loved her fresh flowers. She even had me assist in drawing up plans for a greenhouse so she could have them full-time. But, uh, sadly, she passed before she could speak to the Master about it.”

His happy expression slowly became sad as he spoke of Duncan’s mother.

“Poor woman.” He shook his head, taking his hat off as he looked up at the sky. He then tucked his shears into his apron, before making the symbol of the cross. “She deserved more than what she got, she did. Beautiful, kind lady as she was, she deserved the longest life and the most painless of deaths.”

“What happened to her?” Alice asked, trying not to seem too enthusiastic. Finally! Someone was talking to her.

“Poor lady passed as she brought His Grace into the world,” Maurice said sadly, shaking his head as he moved on to the pink roses. “Lad took his first breath as she took her last. Poor boy was left alone with his father then—” He paused, sighing. “Had no chance.”

“What do you mean by that?” Alice asked, starving for more information.

“Your Grace,” Maurice pleaded as they made their way to the field of lilies, “I really should not say. It is not right to speak ill of the dead, especially a noble. It would not be right.”

“Please,” Alice said quickly. “Just tell me this, and I shall stop with my questions, I promise.”

Maurice appeared to fight with his conscience for a moment, but then he knelt down to the first lilies—pink stargazers—and nodded.

“Very well, Your Grace,” he relented. “But I would appreciate it if you keep it to yourself. Don’t need word spreadin’ that I’m an ungrateful gossiper.”

“You have my word,” Alice swore.

“The old Master was a harsh man,” Maurice confessed, working with his flowers. “Did not care about children one way or another, really. I believe he thought the Mistress would keep the boy until he was old enough to be taught manly things, and the Master was sure mad when he was left alone to do it all.

“I know about strictness, Your Grace. I do. My father was strict, and every good boy needs it from time to time. But the Master’s father was a beast. No matter what he did, the Master was punished. And with the light of his mother snuffed out, he had no choice but to grow up in his father’s darkness.

“That is, until he passed, too, thirteen years ago in a fire. His Grace nearly perished with him, but someone had dragged him out of the flames in time.”

Alice wanted so badly to ask more questions, but she kept her word and pressed her lips together to halt her curiosity. Maurice eventually began to talk about the flowers once more, and when the basket was full of flowers, she had the servants come down for them to be cleaned, pruned, and placed in vases throughout her rooms.

After saying goodbye to Maurice and assuring him once more that their conversations were private, she made her way to the library, hoping that organizing the space would help her organize her thoughts. Alice had thought that her father had been particularly strict, but after hearing some details from Maurice about what Duncan had been put through, she wondered if she had really had it that bad.

“Are you sure this is a project you want to take on alone, Your Grace?” Rebecca had asked nervously as she left a tray of tea and cakes on a nearby table.

“I am quite capable of handling this on my own,” Alice replied, already three rungs up on the ladder to the first bookcase. “Besides, I should like some time for reflection. I believe the activity will soothe me.”

Rebecca looked at Alice as if she wanted to argue, but when Alice gave her a determined look, the handmaid simply sighed and nodded her head before leaving her alone.

With a smug smile, Alice got comfortable on the ladder and began to let her hands and mind move of their own accord.

“I said I wanted to be alone,” she said sharply as she heard the door open.

“I do not care what you want.” Duncan’s voice rang clearly and through the air, sending goosebumps down her arms.

She looked down quickly, unable to believe her ears, and saw her masked husband looking up at her, fury burning in his eyes as his massive chest heaved with slow, strained breaths.

“Get down here,” he ordered, holding her gaze, “now.”

“Duncan,” Alice whispered, her green eyes wide with surprise.

“Do not make me repeat myself,” he replied tersely, feeling his heart threaten to beat out of his chest.

The damned woman was going to give him a coronary! First the fire in the library and now a damned ladder? If her idea of fun was little stunts like this, he was going to have to hire someone to guard her. Duncan glared at her threateningly, taking a warning step toward the ladder. Alice’s eyes grew wider as she stared down at him.

“One.” He began to count.

To his relief, she understood what the count implied, and she quickly scurried down the ladder without protest before he got to two. He had no idea what he would have done if he had gotten to three. And he did not particularly want to find out either.

He had spent the last three days at the docks, dealing with the hellish fury that unfolded there. Pirates. A rarity with the Navy now, but every now and then, a ship would slip through. He was exhausted, starving, and bruised, but up until he’d walked into the library, he’d felt accomplished. Then, when he walked in and saw his wife dangling so precariously on the top of a ladder, he suddenly felt more fury than he had the entire time he’d been gone.

“Are you out of your mind?” he demanded the moment her feet finally touched the carpeted floor.

Unable to stop himself, he strode toward her, ignoring the pain in his leg, and didn’t stop until he was towering over her.

“You cannot do that!” he boomed, ignoring the way she flinched. “Do you have any idea what would have happened if you had fallen? You are alone!”

“I am perfectly capable of staying steady on a ladder, Duncan,” she replied calmly. “Believe it or not, I have had these two feet for quite some time now, and I am most capable of using them properly.”

Duncan took a deep breath through his nose and held it as he glared at her, struggling with the urge to throw her over his shoulder, take her to her room, and lock her there for her own safety. Was she truly being sarcastic with him right now?

“Capable or not,” he gritted out, “you are a duchess now, and you cannot take such risks.”

“You are the one who said I had freedom here,” she pointed out, her tone growing stern. She took a step toward him, pointing her finger at his chest.

Duncan let out a warning growl in response.

“Oh, off it, beast boy,” Alice snapped, rolling her eyes fearlessly at him as she jabbed her finger into his chest.

Duncan’s glare turned into a deadpan expression as he stood there, astounded that he’d just been scolded by a woman half his size.

Beast boy?

“You left me alone on our wedding night after vowing two things,” she continued, ignoring his shock. “One, that I was now free to do with my time as I wished. Two, that I was better off staying away from you. The second one you made fairly easy by fleeing so quickly, but the first? You left me alone without guidance or care! And now that I have found my first sense of comfort and belonging, you are taking it away from me? Look at this place! The room is basically in ruins. It is obvious that it has been rarely used for quite some time. Why can I not make it my own?”

The pain in Duncan’s leg was steadily growing worse even though he was standing still. His mind flashed back to when he’d gotten the wound the night before—just minutes before the fighting ceased. It had been a flesh wound from a dagger, nothing more, so he’d chosen to ignore it til he’d had a chance to bathe. Now, though, he was wondering if he’d once again put his body through too much. It was an issue he kept running into since he shifted his obsessions from his father’s death to his work.

“It is not that you cannot do with this room as you please,” he bit out, becoming more distracted by the pain. “It is that you must allow the staff to help you with particular tasks. For example, ones that could result in you having a broken neck.”

His injured leg buckled beneath him just as he got the last words out, and against his will, he felt himself fall down. He let out a grunt as his knees hit the floor, but before he could crash further, Alice’s arms were around his shoulders, steadying him and helping him to a seated position. He bit his bottom lip until he tasted blood as he tried to bend his right leg, finding it tight and painful. An infection, most likely, and no wonder. They’d been covered in ash and grime for days. He was stupid for waiting to clean it.

“What has happened to you?” Alice asked, her voice suddenly full of worry.

She helped him lean his back on the edge of a chair, then with gentle hands, she unbuttoned his soot-stained shirt and began to probe his chest and shoulders.

“I’ll be fine,” he breathed raggedly, closing his eyes.

Despite his pain, he felt pleasure spread through him as Alice continued her gentle inspection of him. Her hands, so incredibly soft, touched his bruised muscles almost reverently, and he felt the pain in them begin to fade.

“That is not an answer,” Alice quipped.

Duncan opened his eyes upon hearing the worry in her voice and caught her eyes roaming over his body as she uncovered more bruises. When she got to the one on his abdomen, she froze, then slowly brought her eyes back to his.

“Duncan, what has happened to you?” she asked again, her voice low and sincere.

Duncan took a moment to gather his thoughts. It wouldn’t do to tell her that he was an obsessive creature who poured himself into everything he did far too much. Morgan, Ambrose, Ezra, and several others had tried to drag him away from the fight as more than enough men arrived to handle it, but he’d refused them all. How could he even begin to explain that he was somehow wickedly drawn to the precarious while also being terrified of it?

“I told you I take my responsibilities to my people seriously,” he responded instead, looking back at her steadily.

Her gentle exploration was becoming addicting, and he was trying to fight the urge to ask her to keep going. Wounded or not, angry or not, her touch felt incredibly delicious, and he was just weak enough to stop fighting himself.

“These are not the responsibilities of any duke I have known,” Alice countered, shaking her head as she pulled her eyes away from his to continue inspecting his body.

“I am not like any duke you know.” Duncan laughed hollowly, feeling perspiration begin to form on his forehead. “When there is a problem, I take care of it. Personally.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Alice whispered, then gasped.

Duncan followed her gaze to see what she was looking at, and saw that the wound in his leg was now bleeding through the bandage and seeping into his trousers. He was going to need stitches.

“I’ll call for the physician when I get upstairs,” he grumbled miserably.

He then tried to sit up, but Alice’s hand came back down on his chest. He was alarmed at how little he could resist her push. It was not like him to be this weak.

“You will be going nowhere by yourself,” she hissed at him, getting to her feet.

He watched her with tired eyes as she walked to the bell pull by the fireplace, and then couldn’t help but chuckle as she walked back to him with a look of annoyance and a head shake.

“Do not laugh at me,” she scolded, kneeling back down at his side. “I swear, you are the most backward man I have ever met. You chastise me for being on a ladder when you’ve been gone for three days, doing God knows what, and then come back like this?”

“My wife is angry,” Duncan declared, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face.

He wasn’t sure if it was the infection spreading up his leg or if he was delirious from the lack of sleep, but he was finding Alice’s mother-bird-like behavior rather endearing.

“You noticed,” she scoffed as the door to the library opened.

He heard the gasps of servants, and Alice was on her feet, ordering one of them to fetch the physician and the other two to lift Duncan from the chair.

“Let me make it up to you,” he told her, feeling his tired body being lifted. “What would you like?”

Alice was walking beside him as the two servants carried him down the hall, and she looked down at him with suspicious eyes.

“I’m serious,” he breathed, still grinning. “What can I do?”

Alice remained quiet as they traveled up the stairs, and only spoke when he’d been placed gently in his bed.

“First, I want you to allow the physician to see to you properly,” she began, her eyes briefly raking down his body, lingering on his exposed chest before looking over the rest of him. “Then I want you to have dinner with me this evening. We can make it late, so you have time to rest. But that is what I want.”

Duncan reached out for her hand, feeling himself begin to slip into unconsciousness. “You have my word,” he promised, then let his head fall back as the world went dark.