Chapter 6

CHAPTER6

Rachel ran her fingers over her fine wedding gown, saddened that she was the one who took it off, not her husband. The brief image of the Duke reaching for her gown filled her mind, but she pushed it away. The heated thoughts that made her cheeks warm didn’t help matters now.

He is not coming.

She had been given a new maid, the young Marianne, to accompany her, and together they emptied her trunks and portmanteaus. The rather eager and excitable Marianne told her about life in the house, and about watching her this morning as she entered the chapel.

Rachel liked Marianne at once and decided the young maid would be a much-needed distraction. At least the girl’s talkativeness prevented her from dwelling on the sadness of her marriage of convenience.

“Well, that is all settled then, Your Grace,” Marianne said and closed the wardrobe as they finished unpacking. “I must return to Mrs. Brooks and see if she needs me, but I really hope you’ll like it here. How lovely to have another lady in the house!” She waved at the doorway good-naturedly and then was gone.

The moment the door closed behind the maid, Rachel lost her smile. She slumped down into a chair and examined her room. It was much bigger than what she was used to, with a four-poster bed set on a small split level, flanked by curtains. A chaise longue was pressed up at the foot of the bed, and in front of that sat a small vanity.

At the other end of the room was a grand stone fireplace that looked ancient, perhaps centuries old. Three chairs sat around it, and above the mantelpiece was a great painting of how the house had looked in the sixteenth century.

Standing, Rachel surveyed that picture, wishing to know a little more about her new home. The red brick structure stretched over a great distance, with two different wings and a courtyard on one side and a large stable and vast garden on the other. There were so many turreted chimneys, and she wondered why a house needed that many fires.

Finally, Rachel looked at the door that connected her room to the Duke’s chamber. Not only was it closed, but it was bolted on her side.

He really wants nothing to do with me.

She closed her eyes and thought of the way he had danced with her. That touch to her waist stole her breath, even now.

“How inconvenient to be attracted to him,” she muttered to herself darkly and opened her eyes again.

She didn’t know how long she had dwelled in her room, wondering when dinner would be brought up to her. But no food ever came. In the end, she had to acknowledge that the Duke had probably forgotten her, and his promise to have the food sent up to her chamber.

Angry at being forgotten and being forced into a room, she left suddenly, happily swinging the door open and striding out into the passageway. For all his commanding ways, just as she had promised him, she had no intention of obeying his orders.

She strode along the corridor and down the stairs, intent on exploring the house. She wandered first to the vast dining hall but found it wasn’t set for dinner. Presuming there was another smaller dining hall prepped for intimate family dinners, she took a candle from a sideboard in the passageway and used it to guide her around the rooms.

She opened a door at random and came into a small sitting room. It was not empty. Another candle was flickering inside, and the flame danced about at the draft Rachel let into the room. That captured the attention of the woman who was sitting inside.

Anne looked up from the embroidery she had been working on. As if on reflex, she glared at Rachel across the room.

I wish I was home.

Rachel missed her sisters greatly already.

“Good evening.” She cleared her throat and stepped forward, attempting to try again. Had one of her sisters been in this position, then she knew the advice she would have given.

You must make the best of these situations. No one else in life will make you happy but yourself, so you must strive for it.

That meant, first of all, encouraging Anne to abandon such glowering stares.

“How are you this evening?” she asked.

Still, Anne didn’t answer. Rachel chewed on her lower lip, wondering just how young Anne was and if she was being petulant and stubborn on purpose. She still looked much like a child, perhaps eighteen years of age.

“Are you well, Lady Anne?” Rachel tried again.

“Well?” Anne dropped the embroidery onto the table beside her. The wooden ring clattered to the surface and made the flame dance once again.

She sat back and crossed her legs. For one so young, she looked strangely commanding. Rachel was reminded not only of Lady Follet, but the Duke. He had a similarly formidable stare.

“How can I be well?” Anne asked sharply and laid her hands primly in her lap. “When my poor brother has been conned into marriage in this way.”

“C—Conned?” Rachel stammered in surprise. “No such thing happened.”

“No?” Anne’s eyebrows shot up, her narrow face looking even more pointed than before. Slowly, she was looking less and less like her brother. “He is married within a week, to you.” Her eyes flicked down Rachel’s dress.

Rachel was careful not to cower or lower her head. She stared back at Anne with determination. “I did not pressure him into marrying me,” she said slowly, aware that though she had addressed her sister-in-law by her title, Anne did not return the same courtesy. “He did it of his own accord.”

“He had no choice.” Anne’s words were sharp as she stood. She was taller than Rachel, looking down at her from her long thin nose. “Do not appear to be my friend, or even attempt to do so. I know no lady with a good heart that would do this to him.”

“Lady Anne, that is not what happened.” Rachel shook her head with vigor. She stepped toward Anne, but the young lady retreated fast to the door. “Please, at least hear what truly occurred.”

Yet, Anne left too quickly.

Rachel was abandoned, again, in the room with the two candles alone to keep her company. Blinking, she stared at the door, feeling her breaths stutter.

Is this what the Duke thinks too? Does he believe I did this on purpose to trap him into marriage? Oh, what a life this is!

Angered at being so miserable, she held her breath, not giving way to her tears, and marched out of the room. She refused to be subjected to such anger when she did not deserve it. Holding onto her tears, she opened doors at random, searching for the servants’ staircase.

She found it at last, tucked away at the back of the passageway through a smaller door. Holding her candle high over her head, she used it to guide her way down the spiral stairs and headed for the bottom. When she reached level ground, a bare corridor opened before her with whitewashed walls and a flagstone floor.

She hurried down, her shoes tapping softly on the floor. She moved toward a myriad of voices and light laughs at the end of the room with the aim of finding the kitchen. The closer she moved, the more scents filled the air. She could smell cooked chicken and some sort of sweet pudding.

Stepping through an archway, she stumbled into the kitchen, her shoes on the flagstones capturing the attention of the servants.

The three cooks looked at her, their eyes widening. Two maids looked her way too, and lastly, the housekeeper glanced up at her.

Mrs. Brooks stood up from the kitchen table, where she had been drinking a cup of tea. “Your Grace, what a surprise to find you down here,” she said with a vast smile and walked toward Rachel. Stopping in front of her, that smile faltered.

All too late, Rachel realized the tears in her eyes must have been noticeable. She blinked madly, hoping they disappeared.

“Forgive me for imposing on you down here,” she said in a rush. “I understand my husband has requested food to be sent to my chamber, but I do not wish to be so isolated. If it is all right with you, I should wish to go to the dining room for dinner, and I’d be glad if you could show me where it is.”

“Goodness, he has not shown you anything of this house at all, has he?” Mrs. Brooks shook her head. “Of course, I will show you where the dining room is, and you need not fear, I will have the food brought to you there and not to your chamber. Jenkins, any sweetmeats we could give Her Grace?”

An older man with a tray full of sweet delicacies swept toward them. He had a pleasant face and kind brown eyes.

“Here we are, Your Grace, these are sure to put a smile on your face. They always do on mine.”

“Thank you, you are kind.” Rachel took the pastry and slipped it into her mouth, finding that it did, indeed, make her smile. “It is delicious.”

“There, and there is more to come, I promise. Come this way, I’ll show you to the dining room.” Mrs. Brooks swept her back out of the kitchen and into the passageway.

Rachel bristled as she walked, realizing her position had changed a lot within the span of a day. Back home, she was the one in control, the one her sisters came to for guidance, and even occasionally, so did her father. Yet, in this house, she was a fish out of water, or as her father liked to say, a blob of marmalade in a jam pot. She did not belong, and she felt compelled to attach herself to Mrs. Brooks, for she was in need of assistance.

A few minutes later, Rachel was led into the dining room, which was equally as intimidating to her as the passageway, for more paintings surrounded her. Yet, this time, it was various duchesses that looked down at her. She presumed they were all ladies who had earned their positions, as opposed to her, who had seemingly forced the Duke into a proposal without meaning to.

“Here we are,” Mrs. Brooks said in a gleeful tone and poured out a glass of red wine for Rachel. “Always good after a hard day, I think.”

“Thank you. You are very kind, Mrs. Brooks.”

“Think nothing of it.” Mrs. Brooks placed the carafe down beside her on the table. “I am sure your new family will be joining you soon.”

Rachel looked at the other empty chairs as Mrs. Brooks did. At the head of the table, the Duke’s chair was vast and empty. The chair opposite her, where the place was set for Anne, was equally bare.

“I do not think they will come,” Rachel admitted in a quiet voice. “It seems I’m quite unwelcome here.” She bit her tongue, startled at the confession she had made to the housekeeper. “Forgive me, I should not be unloading my fears on you. You work hard around here, I can tell, and have enough to concern yourself with.”

“On the contrary, I’m honored you can confide in me, Your Grace.” Mrs. Brooks smiled that same sweet smile again, which made Rachel feel slightly better. “As for your new family, there is much to be said about them. I’ll say this. I forgive the master these days his occasional rudeness, for he is not the same as he once was.” She grew wistful, staring at the chair at the head of the table. “I hear war can change men.”

He’s a changed man?

Rachel’s gaze lingered on that chair too, wondering what the Duke might have been like before he had gone to war.

“I will be back soon, Your Grace. Enjoy your drink.”

“Thank you.”

Rachel sipped her red wine. In her effort to ignore the stares from those paintings, she looked at the Duke’s chair and thought of the man she had danced with.

* * *

“Your Grace!” The door flung open.

Daniel looked up from his study, where he had been haphazardly reading his tenants’ letters, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his concentration somewhat limited.

“Mrs. Brooks, you have a habit of flinging open doors,” he said with a small smile. “Pray tell, what has caused this outburst?”

He was fond of the housekeeper. He considered her more like a second aunt, part of his family, rather than a servant. She had cared for him when he had been young, sometimes more as his nanny than a housekeeper.

“You ask me that.” She stood on the other side of his desk, and he put down the letters, flicking his gaze toward her.

“Ah.” He shifted in his chair. “I can tell I have really done something wrong. You never glare at me with that wrinkle in the middle of your forehead unless I have made a serious error.”

“I have wrinkles everywhere these days.” She dismissed his words with a wave of her hand. “Though maybe they have all been caused by you.”

He smiled, charmed by her words. Any other staff member would have been dismissed years ago for such bold words, but not Mrs. Brooks.

“Do you know what I have just seen?”

“What?” he asked, pushing the letters away and clasping his hands together on the desk in front of him.

“I have had the new Duchess searching this house in what I can only describe as desperation. She stumbled into the kitchen, holding back tears, and asked me to point her toward the dining room. She didn’t want food served to her in her chamber, like some prisoner.” Mrs. Brooks sharply waved her hand. “She wished to be with her new family.”

Daniel stilled. He hadn’t even thought of it like that, but yes, Rachel was now his family.

“I didn’t send her to her chamber like a prisoner,” he said in a deep voice.

“I know that, for she could not find it!” Mrs. Brooks declared with vigor. “I found her earlier today as well, twiddling her thumbs in the main passageway, for she feared walking into the wrong chamber.”

Daniel stiffened, realizing just what errors he had made.

“Did you not offer to show your wife her home?” Mrs. Brooks asked. “Do not misunderstand me, Your Grace. I know very well it is a rushed marriage, do not think the servants haven’t gossiped about it—”

“I do not wish to hear what they have to say.” Daniel tipped his head back on his chair. “You know I do not concern myself with their gossip.”

“I know.” She acknowledged with a sharp nod. “The point is that though I understand it is not a love match, I do not understand why it has to be a sad match. That poor lady.” She directed a harsh stare at the door. “She was holding back her tears, Your Grace, holding them back! What lady should be doing that on her wedding day?”

Daniel felt as if he had been winded. For a second, he was back on the battlefield with a Spanish soldier punching him in the gut. He struggled for breath, blinked, then realized he was in his study and not in battle at all.

“No lady should feel like that,” he said under his breath.

“Exactly. So, no matter what resentment you have against this lady, I suggest this—” Mrs. Brooks pointed at the door. “Do not make your wife miserable. It is a sad way to start your lives together. I saw your parents happy, Your Grace, very happy, indeed. Do not let me live to see you sad with your wife.”

Daniel slowly stood, staring at Mrs. Brooks with interest. She was bold to come to him and reprimand him as if he was a boy.

“I’m no longer that child who fell in the nettle bush, you know,” he said with a smile on his lips.

“No, indeed. Do you wish me to tell you that you made a greater error today?” she asked with a knowing smile.

“Thank you, Mrs. Brooks. Sometimes, your outlook on things is refreshing.” He walked out from behind the desk, unsure how to excuse himself.

He could hardly tell her that part of the reason he was hiding in his study was to resist the temptation of his wife, though it hadn’t helped, for he’d pictured throwing Rachel every which way across that desk. He couldn’t tell Mrs. Brooks either that he feared having a child.

“So? What will you do?” Mrs. Brooks asked and stood beside him, expectantly waving at the door.

“I shall make things right.” He patted the housekeeper on the shoulder. “I didn’t intend to make her sad. I guess, sometimes, I’m so caught up in my mind, I forget to think of others.”

“Ha! Well, that is an old failing of yours, but you’re a good man, Your Grace. I know it to be true. So, go and be a good man to that wife of yours.”

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, then left the room.

As he hurried through the corridors, he wondered how this was going to work.

How was he supposed to make his wife happy and resist the temptation of bedding her?