Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

" L ucy, my darling!" Patience cried, her arms outstretched.

Before Lucy could react, she was engulfed in a bone-crushing embrace. The air whooshed out of Lucy's lungs, a touch of amusement battling with apprehension as she glanced towards Duncan, who stood a few paces away.

"Mama," Lucy managed to gasp, patting her mother's back happily. "It's so lovely to see you."

Lucy had been alerted as the carriage bearing her family's crest approached the Northwick mansion. Her parents had emerged first, followed by a gangly Stephen, and lastly, Caroline, her one and only confidante.

Patience finally released her, her gaze flitting past Lucy to land on the duke. "And there you are, Your Grace!" she exclaimed, entirely oblivious to the undercurrent of tension.

Before Lucy could intervene, Patience surged forward with another enthusiastic embrace. Duncan, caught off guard, stiffened under her touch. A flicker of something akin to panic crossed his features, but he managed a strained smile and a curt bow.

"Viscountess Pemberton," he acknowledged, his voice tight.

Lucy felt a surge of protectiveness towards Duncan. Her mother's well-meaning gestures, while born of affection, were clearly causing him distress. She needed to redirect their attention before things escalated further.

"Mama," Lucy interjected gently, placing a hand on her mother's arm. "Perhaps we can retire to the drawing room and allow Duncan to greet the rest of the family."

Patience, finally noticing Lucy's discomfort, blushed slightly. "Oh, of course, my dear," she chirped, her usual boisterousness tempered by a touch of sheepishness. "It's so wonderful to see you settled in such a grand home, Lucy. And such a handsome duke as your husband! My heart is truly blessed."

Patience's enthusiastic embrace was momentarily interrupted by the entrance of Augustus Hatcher, Viscount of Pemberton.

"Your Grace!" he boomed, his voice a friendly rumble.

Duncan offered a relieved smile, the tension that had been radiating from him easing a touch. "Viscount Pemberton," he acknowledged, his voice warm with a hint of amusement. "A pleasure to welcome you to Northwick."

Augustus strode across the room, his gait steady despite his years. He extended a hand towards Duncan, his grip firm but respectful. "The pleasure is all ours, Your Grace. Lucy has written wonders about your estate – a truly impressive manor."

Stephen and Lucy came in next, each offering their greetings to the lord of the house.

"Come, you must all be tired," Lucy directed. "Let me show you to your quarters."

Duncan took that as his cue to leave and soon disappeared into his study.

Lucy directed the servants to fetch clean water for her family and to show them to their room.

Having seen to it that everyone was settled into their respective guest chambers, Lucy, feeling the pleasant weight of exhaustion, finally found herself alone with her mother in her private sitting room. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting a warm glow on the plush armchairs and the ornately framed portraits adorning the walls.

Lucy sank into a chair, the soft cushions sighing beneath her weight. Patience, her crimson skirts a vibrant splash against the ivory silk upholstery, settled gracefully beside her.

"Well, my child," Patience began, her voice brimming with maternal curiosity, "tell me everything! How fares your life as a duchess? Do you find yourself overwhelmed by your duties?"

A soft smile curved Lucy's lips. "There have been moments of adjustment, Mama," she admitted, "but the staff here are delightful and incredibly helpful. Mrs. Davies, the housekeeper, has been a godsend, ensuring everything runs smoothly."

"And the duke?" Patience pressed, concern written boldly on her face. "Tell me all about him. Is he truly cruel and harsh and dissolute as all the ton whispers, or are they all baseless rumors?"

Lucy felt a warmth bloom in her cheeks. "That he is not, Mama," she replied, a touch of pride coloring her voice. "Duncan is a kind and intelligent man, with a surprising wit."

Lucy's smile widened a touch, a playful glint entering her eyes as she recalled the moments she and her husband had spent together. "We have also enjoyed some lovely outings together. Duncan is quite skilled at horsemanship, and we have explored the vast grounds of Northwick on horseback."

"Horse riding, you say?" Patience exclaimed, a hint of excitement creeping into her voice. "That's wonderful… I had assumed you would lack the time for such activities, what with being a duchess and all."

Lucy chuckled. "Mama, the fresh air does wonders for the complexion. And I can ride quite excellently, and even the duke agrees."

Patience's lips broke into a smile. "Well, as long as he takes good care of you, that's all that matters. But Lucy, darling," she continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "is he… kind? Does he treat you well?"

Lucy squeezed her mother's hand, unsure how to address her relationship with Duncan. "Mama, the duke is a good man," she replied, pausing to gather her thoughts. "He is a bit… reserved, but he is considerate and thoughtful. Sometimes I feel like we have reached common ground. And then on many other occasions, we are like water and oil, never seeming to hold that bond for long. He can seem cold or distant sometimes as well."

Seeing the worried look on her mother's face, Lucy quickly added, "Although, we are still getting to know each other, and I feel some sort of a connection with him, a respect that goes beyond duty. I believe that with a bit more time, we shall grow to understand each other and be all the better for it." Or not .

Who was she fooling? Her mother or herself? Being hopeful about the duke was like pouring water into a basket and expecting it not to pour out of the holes.

Patience's gaze softened, a mother's intuition sensing the truth in Lucy's words. "A connection, you say? That's wonderful, my dear. As long as you are happy, that is all that matters. You are happy here, are you not?"

"Yes, Mama," Lucy replied, her voice filled with a somewhat genuine contentment. "I am happy here. Duncan is a good man, and Northwick is a magnificent estate. There's so much to explore and learn."

Patience's smile widened briefly, "Yes, but does he love you?" she asked suddenly.

"Mama, I…" Lucy started, unsure of how to proceed. She wished to share the true details with her mother. If there was anyone else in the world who could understand, it would be her, right?

She had confided in her mother in the past, but from whence would the courage come to tell her mother that she had no idea whether or not she was loved by her husband? Or that on the night of her wedding, the man she had only just wedded informed her that he had no intention of allowing her to partake of the joys of motherhood?

But the thought of revealing secrets, details of Duncan… of her husband to anyone else, even her mother filled her with great trepidation. Somewhere within her, she felt like saying anything would constitute a terrible betrayal.

"He treats me well, Mama." Lucy managed to say. She was unsure of her mother's reaction and religiously searched for any hint of suspicion.

"That's all a mother wants to hear, my darling!" Patience beamed. "Oh, I'm so glad to hear that. I knew the duke had it in him. All he needs is someone to love him and he will come out of his shell. Oh, I can already see you both having lots of children." Patience said, squeezing Lucy's hand with affection. And Lucy's heart sank with each sentence her mother uttered.

"You can say that, Mama," Lucy lied through her teeth although her heart hammered, and she wondered how her mother didn't hear it.

"As long as you're happy, I'm happy." Lucy nearly folded. Happy ? Would she ever be again?

Lucy leaned in and kissed her mother's cheek. "Thank you, Mama," she murmured. "For everything."

There had been times, whilst still young when Lucy had suspected her mother knew more than she let on. At the moment, she was having a feeling akin to that.

A comfortable silence settled between them for a moment. Lucy knew her mother needed time to unwind after the journey, and she herself felt the pleasant fatigue of a stimulating conversation.

"Perhaps you should retire to your chambers, Mama," Lucy suggested gently. "The journey must have been tiring. I wouldn't want you to be overly fatigued for dinner this evening."

Patience nodded in agreement. "Yes, my dear, you're right," she said, rising from her chair with a sigh. "A good rest will do me wonders. We can catch up again before dinner, can't we?"

"Of course, Mama," Lucy confirmed, leading her mother towards the door. "I will come and fetch you when it's time."

"You are such a cheerful child, my dear Lucy," Patience said, beaming with smiles. "I bless the day I birthed you."

With a final hug, Lucy bid her mother farewell.

The dinner table at Northwick Manor bustled with lively conversation as the Pembertons regaled Lucy and Duncan with tales from her childhood. Augustus recounted a particularly embarrassing incident involving a mud puddle, a prized new dress, and a stubborn pony.

"There you were, Lucy," he boomed, gesturing dramatically with a fork laden with roasted pheasant, "no more than five years old, covered head to toe in the most dreadful muck! Your poor mother nearly fainted, and the scullery maids spent an entire afternoon scrubbing the stains from your dress."

Lucy, cheeks flushed a delicate rose, sent a playful glare at her father. "Honestly, Papa," she chided, "must you dredge up such old memories?"

The rest of the table erupted in laughter, even Duncan, whose lips quirked into a reluctant smile. He had found himself surprisingly enjoying the Pembertons' company. Their easy camaraderie and genuine affection for each other were a stark contrast to the formality he was accustomed to.

"But it was all part of growing up, wasn't it, my dear?" Patience interjected, her voice laced with a fondness that transcended the memory. "A little mud never hurt anyone."

The conversation flowed on, weaving tales of Lucy's childhood adventures – from picnics gone awry to triumphant victories in the annual village flower show. With each story, Lucy observed Duncan. His initial reserve had melted away, replaced by a quiet amusement that sparkled in his blue eyes.

However, a subtle shift in the atmosphere jolted Lucy from her reverie. As Viscount Pemberton launched into a particularly animated joke, he threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh, his hand instinctively reaching for his shoulder with a slight grimace.

A flicker of concern crossed Lucy's face. She had never considered that the boisterous interactions of her family might cause discomfort to someone so accustomed to a more subdued manner. She needed to subtly deflect the attention.

"Papa," Lucy interjected gently, "that reminds me! Did I tell you about the time I snuck into the kitchens and attempted to bake a birthday cake for Stephen? Let's just say the results were… less than stellar."

Her father's attention, momentarily diverted, launched into a new story about Stephen's cake-related disaster, successfully redirecting the conversation away from physical humor.

As the laughter subsided, Lucy took a subtle risk. Reaching under the table, her fingertips brushed against Duncan's thigh. A tremor of apprehension ran through her at the thought of him recoiling from her touch.

But to her immense relief, there was no flinch. Instead, Duncan's weary smile deepened slightly, and he squeezed her hand in silent reassurance. Thankfully, the act of passing a dish down the table effectively concealed their secret handhold from prying eyes.

As their feet brushed beneath the table, a silent message passed between them. Lucy felt the tension drain from his muscles beneath her touch, a sign of the growing connection between them. A warmth spread through her chest, replacing her earlier worry