Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

O ctavia blinked a few times as she attempted to adjust her thoughts to her new reality.

I am married.

The realization of the situation she found herself in accompanied by the speech that Simon had given her sent her mind into a spiral.

Thoughts of her heated kiss with the Duke in his study filled her mind and made her blush. How on earth could he be so cold as to banish himself from their marital bed, and then kiss her with such passion? Was he repressing his attraction for her?

Her thoughts quickly turned into confusion when she realized that she had enjoyed the kiss.

His lips guiding hers had caused a visceral reaction in her body that culminated in a roaring fire. She had wanted him, more than just the kiss that had burned her lips.

“My Lady, are you awake yet?” A gentle knock sounded at the door, drawing Octavia’s thoughts away from her confusion.

Sitting up in bed and stretching, she cleared her throat.

“Come in,” she replied groggily. There was no use in agonizing over her situation when the Duke had made it perfectly clear that her time would be her own. There was plenty of time to ponder her situation.

The door gently creaked open, revealing a young woman with light blonde hair and a friendly face. “Good morning, Your Grace. I was worried to wake you. You had quite a busy day yesterday. I am your lady’s maid; my name is Ethel.” She curtsied politely and brought a tray into the room.

“That is quite all right.” Octavia frowned when Ethel came forward and placed the tray on the foot of the bed before fixing the pillows behind Octavia’s back.

“We weren’t sure what you would like for breakfast this morning, Your Grace. The cook has made you a few of her favorites, but you may tell me what you do not like, and we will adjust for tomorrow morning.” Ethel continued to chatter away as she placed the tray on Octavia’s lap. She seemed competent in her duties, making Octavia feel at ease.

Eyeing the tray of toast, eggs, and even a dish of kippers, Octavia felt her curiosity getting the better of her. “Will His Grace be having his breakfast in his chambers this morning as well?”

Her stomach fluttered at the thought of Simon in his bed with nothing more than his breeches and shirt.

Ethel seemed hesitant at first, shifting from one foot to the other as she bit at her lip. “His Grace has his breakfast early in the dining room, Your Grace. We did set a place for you, but His Grace instructed us not to wake you and to bring your breakfast up when you were ready.”

“Is that so?” Octavia swallowed the anger that filled her chest.

Did he think of her as a fragile woman who couldn’t manage to get up for breakfast? He certainly treated her as if she were nothing more than a showpiece to present to the rest of the world. Their marriage may very well be a farce, but she would be damned if she would just sit back and neglect her duties as the lady of the house. Simon wanting to avoid her was no excuse for her to stay in her chambers.

“Your Grace?” Ethel seemed taken aback when Octavia pushed the tray aside and stood.

“I will have my breakfast in the dining room this morning. You may set a place for me tomorrow morning as well. If His Grace asks why, you may tell him that you are not a messenger. He may ask me himself why I do not wish to eat in bed, and I shall inform him that I am not ill, and I should stay in my chambers.”

She took a deep breath and made her way to her dresser where she flung open the doors.

If the Duke thought that she would just be quiet and amiable for the rest of her life, then he’d have another thing coming.

Ethel seemed hesitant as she stood rooted to the spot, not moving a muscle as Octavia pulled one of her dresses from the cupboard.

Turning with a gentle smile, Octavia realized that she may have been a little harsh with the girl. “You need not say anything to His Grace, Ethel. I will deal with him. You may help me get dressed now and carry my tray down the dining hall. I’m sure there are plenty of things that need my attention as the lady of the house. If His Grace reprimands you, I shall step in.”

The girl’s face relaxed as she smiled again and came forward to help Octavia dress. “Certainly, Your Grace. Mrs. Farley will assist you with everything that needs your attention.”

Octavia nodded and turned to the side, lifting her arms so that Ethel could remove her night dress. The reflection she saw in the mirror was fierce and determined.

Good. I won’t back down.

The dining room was empty when Octavia entered in her light green day dress. The place at the head of the table hadn’t been cleared, and she wondered how quickly Simon had finished his breakfast. The plate was filled with crumbs, accompanied by an empty cup of tea on the side.

“Good morning, Your Grace.” Mrs. Farley came into the room and curtsied almost as soon as Octavia was seated.

“Good morning, Mrs. Farley. I was just about to send for you.” Octavia gave her a welcoming smile before sipping her tea. She tore her attention away from Simon’s place and fixed her eyes on the housekeeper.

Mrs. Farley seemed concerned as her brow wrinkled into a frown. “Is everything to your liking, Your Grace? I hope Ethel has been performing her duties satisfactorily. I hired her because of her excellent recommendations.” She seemed concerned at being summoned so early in the morning.

Octavia reached for a piece of toast before answering. “I can assure you that Ethel is quite lovely. She knows her duties and performs them without hesitation. Even the food is quite satisfactory. I wanted to see you as I wish to get started with my duties as lady of the house as soon as possible.”

She placed a piece of kipper on her toast and took a bite.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to rest a while, Your Grace? His Grace informed the servants this morning that you are not to be disturbed while you are settling in.” Mrs. Farley clasped her hands in front of her abdomen, causing the keys on her belt to jingle when she straightened her posture.

And what else has His Grace decided for me?

She bit back the sarcastic remark and recalled how uncomfortable Ethel had been. It wasn’t fair to involve the servants in her arguments with Simon.

“That is quite considerate of His Grace, I am sure, but I will decide when I need rest. Please walk me through all of my duties and anything that needs my attention. Idle hands are the devil’s playthings after all.” She took another bite of her toast and savored the salty flavor of the fish.

And Simon might just find them around his neck if I don’t find something useful to do with them.

His insistence on treating her like a stranger in his house instead of his wife was wearing thin on her nerves. Just because he didn’t care to lie with her didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of anything else.

Mrs. Farley’s dark eyes sparkled with appreciation as she looked at Octavia. “Of course, Your Grace. My mother always said the exact same thing. I will make a list at once, and if it pleases Your Grace, we can have a proper tour of the house and everything that needs your attention.”

“I think you and I will get along quite nicely, Mrs. Farley.” Octavia bit into her slice of toast and chewed determinedly as she watched the housekeeper hurry from the room.

She wasn’t sure what Simon was playing at, but if it was a war he wanted, she would be the fiercest opponent he ever faced.

“Breakfast in bed like an old maid just because he wishes to avoid me,” she muttered under her breath and took another bite of her toast.

Hours had passed when Octavia and Mrs. Farley were walking side by side in the gardens. They had dealt with the orders for the kitchen, organized the maids’ schedules, and even looked over all the staff references so that Octavia could learn all of their names.

She sighed contentedly with a smile and enjoyed the sun on her face. There certainly was something satisfying in proving that she could perform her duties despite Simon’s need for control. A slight frown creased her brow when she noticed that the only flowers in the garden were white roses.

“Mrs. Farley, is His Grace allergic to color, or is there a more reasonable explanation for the rows of white roses?” Octavia ran her fingers over the white roses as they passed, taking care to avoid the thorns.

The housekeeper bit back a smile as if she were trying to suppress a laugh. “His Grace has the gardeners graft the same white roses every year to save on expenses. Cuttings of these bushes are stored in a warm shed and replanted come spring.”

“And what of investing in a few new sprigs to add some color?” An idea began to form in the back of her mind as she pictured the garden full of color and life. The garden parties she could host on occasion would be so much more vibrant if there were splashes of color along the rows.

Mrs. Farley shook her head. “His Grace has ordered the gardener to keep the gardens clean while not spending any of the allocated funds on unnecessary expenses,” she explained kindly.

Octavia pursed her lips and mulled the thought over in the back of her mind. There were other ways to fill a garden with new plants; it wasn’t necessarily expensive if one used a bit of creativity.

Stopping in her tracks beside a white rosebush, Octavia frowned when her eyes fell on a fiddle that had been placed against the thin stem of the plant. The wood was worn and faded from what looked like years of being played.

“Whom does this belong to?” She bent down and ran her fingers over the strings.

A soft plunking sound floated up to her and caressed her ears.

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace. The fiddle belongs to Willy, one of the boys who assists the gardener. He has a terrible habit of leaving his things lying about. I will give him a stern talking to when I see him again.” Mrs. Farley was apologetic when she attempted to reach for the fiddle.

“No, don’t reprimand him. I wish to hear him play; can you send for him?” Octavia came up straight and looked around the rest of the garden.

Mrs. Farley stood rooted to the spot for a moment before nodding and gesturing to a small group of boys who were tilling some soil near the start of the vineyards.

The eldest man, who had been leaning against a post, straightened and said something inaudible to the group of workers before nodding to Mrs. Farley.

One of the boys, who looked to be about seventeen or eighteen, dusted his hands on his breeches and came hurrying forward. His sandy-blonde hair and bright blue eyes reminded Octavia of the young men in Italy who would work the lands on her father’s estate.

“Good morning, Your Grace.” He bowed sheepishly to Octavia before turning to the housekeeper.

Mrs. Farley placed her hands on her hips and pursed her lips as she eyed the young man. “Good morning, Willy. Her Grace has found your fiddle nestled between the roses. I think I have mentioned to you before that the gardens are not a suitable place for musical instruments. The fact that it was you who came straight here lets me know that you are aware of this.” She narrowed her eyes at the boy who recoiled before reaching for his fiddle.

“I am sorry, Mrs. Farley. I will try and be more mindful.” His cheeks filled with heat when he came up straight and bowed again.

The innocence in his voice struck Octavia as he began to back away with his eyes downcast.

“Please, don’t go just yet,” Octavia stopped him, giving him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “I would very much like to hear you play. I am quite fond of the fiddle. It reminds me of my years abroad.” She turned to Mrs. Farley with a nod, signaling for her to leave the boy be.

Nodding to Willy, Mrs. Farley gave him the go-ahead. “Go on, then; play that lively tune that the servants like so much. I will allow it this once in Her Grace’s presence.”

Willy swallowed hard and licked over his lips before bringing the fiddle up to his chin and shutting his eyes with the fiddlestick to the strings. He hesitated just for a moment as if he were trying to align his breathing with the fiddle.

In an instant, Octavia felt as if she had been transported back to Italy with her parents as they toured the countryside. Gone was the hesitant young lad who seemed as if he had been about to burst into tears. The confident young man she now saw before her played his instrument with skill and passion, creating a soaring melody of joy.

Octavia laughed gleefully and clapped her hands together as maids and footmen left their work, coming forward to watch the delightful performance.

Willy’s body swayed along with the music as if he were no longer aware of anything else other than the fiddle.

She suddenly felt overcome with the urge to dance as happy memories filled her mind. Her mother smiling on the porch of their house in Italy. Her father giving orders to the men working his lands before scooping her up on his arms.

Grabbing Mrs. Farley by the hand, Octavia led her into the circle of servants and began to dance a jig, lifting her dress to reveal her boots. “Dance with me, Mrs. Farley.” Her laughter filled the air like the soft tinkling of a bell.

Looking around the circle at all the expectant faces, Mrs. Farley shrugged and joined Octavia as the servants began to cheer and clap. Mimicking Octavia’s feet, they danced and kicked to their hearts’ content.

Her heart felt lighter than it had in years when maids and footmen alike began to dance to Willy’s fiddle. The joyful melody brought tears to her eyes as she recalled her life with her parents.

Their lives had always been joyful and pure, even in London. She missed them with all of her heart and soul as she pictured the moors of Scotland and even the comfort of their house in London.

“Your Grace?” Mrs. Farley gasped and raised her hand to her chest.

Feeling her heart jolt, Octavia looked up and into the angry face of her husband.