Chapter 9

CHAPTER9

“So, this is where you have been hiding?”

Daniel strode into his sister’s studio. It was a small chamber on the side of the house, facing south so it received the best of the day’s sunlight.

Anne was sitting by an easel. In her lap, she had a sketchpad where she had been drawing something. Upon his entrance, she hastily closed the sketchpad and shifted her focus to a painting beside her. She picked up a brush and started mixing paints on a table.

“Anne?” Daniel rounded the easel, trying to catch her eye. “You are too old now to play this game of ignoring me. You are a woman, no longer a child.”

“I am not ignoring you, I am merely thinking,” she said insolently and sat tall.

Daniel watched with amazement, thinking more and more that his sister looked regal these days. She was grand enough to be a princess. The problem was, she was sometimes too proud of the fact.

She flicked her brush at the canvas, creating another world before her.

“What are you thinking of?”

“I’m thinking that I shall have to hide here from now on.”

“Hide? Why?” he queried, bending around the easel in an effort to catch her eye again.

“Well, my home is now open to that woman.” She flicked the paintbrush at the door, clearly meaning Rachel, as she spoke derisively.

“You mean, my wife?” Daniel folded his arms and stepped out from behind the easel. “Refer to her as my wife, the Duchess, or by her name, but do not be so cruel as to merely call her a woman, Anne. That is unkind.”

“And what she has done has not been unkind?” Anne gained her feet, flinging back her long hair that hadn’t yet been tied into an updo for the day. “Do not be blind, Brother. Surely you must see how she has trapped you.”

“I see, nothing I have said before has sunk in.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, bearing with his frustration. “Anne, Rachel did not trap me in marriage. We were both in the garden that night. It was an unfortunate circumstance that led to this, nothing more. I will not have you hating her for something she has not done.”

“Oh, and because you order it, that changes how I feel, does it?”

“You really are sounding like a child again.” He lowered his hand and went back to fold his arms.

“I am not a child!” Her petulant and loud voice made him raise his eyebrows in suspicion. “Oh, you are hopeless, Daniel. Truly.”

“So kind, Sister, as always,” he said wryly, but neither one of them cracked a smile. “Listen, enough of this. You do not need to lock yourself in your studio.” He waved a hand around the room that was covered in paintings. “And I will not have my wife feeling hated in her own home.”

“You are protective of her, considering you barely know her.” Anne went back to her painting, moving the brush quickly across the canvas.

“I made a vow to protect her.” Daniel’s deep voice shook Anne so much, she nearly dropped the paintbrush. “I will keep to that vow, even if it means making you like her.”

“You cannot force me to like her.” Anne rolled her eyes. “She’s not even suited to being a duchess.”

“What does that mean?” Daniel asked, his voice wilder now, growing irate.

“Ladies who scamper about gardens at night should not be duchesses.”

“And what about dukes that do the same thing?”

His question got him nowhere.

“This is hopeless.” Anne dropped her paintbrush into a glass of linseed oil. “She has conned you into marriage. I am not so dumb that I do not see it, even if you cannot.”

“Once again, so kind!”

“Daniel!” she hissed and walked away from him. “You do not know what you have done, binding yourself to a woman forever who cannot love you.”

Daniel didn’t answer, for his mind was now elsewhere. He thought of Rachel and that blush on her cheeks as he had come so close to kissing her. He couldn’t say such an intimacy between them was impossible, for it was certainly very possible. He had a feeling if he went to kiss Rachel now, she would kiss him back.

I am not going to find out.

“I nearly lost you once.” Anne’s words cut across his thoughts. “I sat at home for years waiting for your letters, imagining what horror you went through in that war, and I feared losing you. Now that you are home, look at what you have done with your life. You bound yourself to another. It’s as good as those prisoner camps you told me of.”

“Marriage is a little different from that, Anne,” Daniel said wryly, not enjoying her tone.

“Is it? When it’s to the wrong person? I am not so sure.” She walked away from him, moving to another table of paints where she mixed together new colors.

“Anne?” Daniel went to follow her when the painting she had been working on caught his attention. He stiffened, moving back toward it to see it was his face on the canvas.

It wasn’t quite complete. He saw a man wearing a soldier’s uniform, but it was clearly him. It was the same face, the same heavy jawline and etched cheekbones, along with the tousled dark brown hair, though it was waxed to a finer position in the painting.

“Anne?” he called again, not once looking away from the painting. The softness of his voice must have knocked the wind out of her, for she returned to his side, fussing with drying some paintbrushes. “Your skill grows every day, you know that?”

“Thank you,” she said in a small voice. “It’s how I remember you when you came back from the war.”

“Is it?”

Daniel did not remember ever quite looking as he did in this painting. He’d looked exhausted, his hair completely wild and his cheeks more sunken after living off so little on the battlefield. He thought Anne had a rather dramatic picture of what he truly had looked like back then.

“I’m sorry, Daniel,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to cause you pain, but equally, I cannot like a woman who has done this to you.”

He sighed and looked away from the painting. The sight of what Anne had done sucked all the anger from his body. He no longer felt any fury at all, only sadness.

“Please, listen to me.” He placed his hands on his sister’s shoulders. “I can see that it doesn’t matter how many times I tell you she is not to blame for what has happened. I could be blue in the face and you would not believe me.” She shook her head vigorously. “But if all of this is because of some fear of losing me, you need not fear that.”

She looked up from her paintbrushes.

“Marriage is not a prison sentence.” He shook his head. “I am no longer going back to war either. I am here to stay.”

“You promised when you came home that we’d be a family again.”

“And we are,” he reminded her, squeezing her shoulders affectionately. “It’s just that there is another in our family now.”

Her expression instantly darkened, her eyes growing more hooded.

“If you cannot like her, would you do me a favor and at least be polite to her?” he asked, his voice still soft. “Animosity between the two of you would only cause greater misery, and I don’t want that. Can you be polite? For my sake?”

“Maybe.” The way Anne screwed up her face didn’t convince him. Turning away, she dipped a paintbrush into a new color and continued with her work.

Daniel lifted her sketchbook from where she had discarded it nearby and started sifting through her drawings.

“You are prolific these days in your sketches.”

He found some of him and his aunt, a few of Mrs. Brooks and the other servants too. There were plenty of the house, and there was a sketch of a man he could not recognize, for he was walking alongside the house with his back only visible.

“Who is this?”

“No one.” Anne turned back and snatched the sketchbook out of his hands. “Very well, I can try and be polite,” she said hurriedly.

Daniel couldn’t help feeling she was changing the topic as quickly as she could.

* * *

Rachel stared at the empty chair across from her in the sitting room, the seat bathed in candlelight. She had prayed ever since they had finished dinner that either Daniel or Anne would join her, but neither did. When Anne had discovered her here, she’d quickly left, with a glare. Daniel had gone straight to his study to work and left her completely alone.

She sat at a games table and played cards by herself, though she had no real love for single-player games. The only person to keep her company was Mrs. Brooks, who had come by to check on her more than once.

In the end, Rachel abandoned her card games and stared at the empty chair, imagining another sitting there. She thought of Daniel and the handsome smile he had so often revealed that morning as they’d toured the house together. She imagined him with his tailcoat gone and his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he leaned on the games table and played cards with her. That flash of skin brought heat to her body, and she pulled at the neckline of her gown, quite captivated by the mere thought.

“Do not think of it…” she pleaded with herself, but despite the order, her thoughts went back to that morning in the great hall.

She had been so certain Daniel was going to kiss her. He had backed her up against that wall, planting his hands on the plaster with passion, then hovered his lips over hers. She could still feel the tingle on her lips as she dreamt of what it could have been like, to be kissed by him.

“This is hopeless.”

She pushed the cards away from her and purposefully looked away from the chair, finding the sight of its emptiness insufferable. She was so used to a busy home, the frequent loneliness she felt here was getting to her.

Perhaps if Daniel wants an heir at some point, then things would not be so lonely. I could have a child to love.

She smiled at the thought of a child, and she thought of how that child would be created. She imagined herself in bed, with Daniel pulling his shirt over his head as he clambered onto the bed with her. Would he kiss her with ferocity and purpose, just as he strode through this house with purpose in every step? Or would he reveal a tenderness and kiss her softly down her neck?

“Your Grace?” Mrs. Brooks’ voice startled her so much that she whipped around in her chair. “Is all well?”

“Yes, thank you,”

Rachel lied, placing a hand on her chest, trying to calm her erratic breaths. Mrs. Brooks walked further into the room, carrying a silver tray, ready to collect the empty wine glass that sat beside Rachel.

“Do you know if the Duke intends to rest at all tonight? Or will he be working all night?”

“Ah.” Mrs. Brooks’ movements slowed as she lifted the wine glass from the table. “He has just retired for the night, Your Grace.”

“I see.” Rachel tried not to sound too disappointed. “Well, I’ll retire as well. Goodnight, Mrs. Brooks.”

“Goodnight, Your Grace.” Mrs. Brooks smiled sweetly and waved her goodnight.

Rachel took one of the candles with her as she left the room. In the passageway, she found two letters on a small silver tray on a side table. She recognized the handwriting on both at once. One was from Bridget and the other from Emily. She collected them and hurried to the stairs, climbing up and heading to her bedchamber.

Stepping inside, she dropped the letters on her bedside table and turned to look at that connecting door. It was still bolted on her side, and she suspected it was much the same on Daniel’s side. Her eyes lingered on the darkness under the door as she tried to see if there was any candlelight left in Daniel’s room, or if he had indeed gone to sleep.

There was no light at all.

Holding back a sigh, she prepared for bed. She didn’t bother calling for a lady’s maid, as she wished to be alone. She undressed, switching into a night rail and unpinning her hair from the back of her head so that it fell past her shoulders. With the candle alone to keep her company, she opened her sisters’ letters, choosing to read Bridget’s first.

My dearest sister,

Well, I can happily say how much we miss having you here. It has been just two days, yet I long for your company already. Though Emily may deny it, we have looked to you for so long to guide us both. To have you no longer here feels like a wrench.

Our father misses you too, though he still seems lost in his sadness, uncertain if you really consented to marry the Duke. He brought through his business papers this evening and said he needed advice, but as he used to discuss such business matters with you, I’m afraid both Emily and I were not so useful. I have little understanding of the greater details of his business, and as for Emily, she gave him advice even before listening to the full matters. Our father misses you too, though he does not say it.

I hope you are happy in your new home, dear sister. Write to us soon. I will come and visit you shortly, and though Emily says she is enjoying her freedom, I know she is lying, for she has already said she wishes to come and see you too.

Tell me all about your new home. Do you like it? What is your sister-in-law like? Are you happy with your husband? The Duke of Elbridge was very handsome, if a little austere, at the wedding. It is my greatest hope that despite the nature of your marriage, the two of you will be happy together. I hope you know that.

Your loving sister,

Bridget.

“Ah, dear Bridget.”

Rachel felt tears prick her eyes as she read her sister’s letter. For so short a time apart, it ached to be away from someone she treasured so much. She held the letter to her chest and made a mental note to write back in the morning, though she knew she would have to be evasive on some matters, to make Bridget happy. She would not tell Bridget about Anne’s suspicions of her, nor Daniel’s confusing behavior.

How can he be so heated in one second, then back away from me in the next minute and avoid me all evening?

Rachel put down her sister’s letter and opened Emily’s. The handwriting was plainly more hurried in this one.

Dear Rachel,

I hope you are happy in your new home. I can see Bridget is writing to you with furious intent, so I wished to write to you as well and let you know that we do miss you. Though, I will admit, it is nice to have some peace too!

I am sure we will see you very soon.

Emily.

The briefness of the letter gutted Rachel. She dropped it, watching as it fell like an autumn leaf to the top of her vanity table. Where Bridget’s letter had been long and effusive in its kindness, Emily’s had been a confusing thing. She supposed Emily meant to be humorous, but the joke had actually hurt.

“It’s so short,” Rachel muttered to herself miserably. “Perhaps she truly does resent me for being her guard dog for too long.”

Those tears threatened once again. She squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her face in her hands, trying to prevent any tears from escaping.

Before she could dwell anymore on the disparity between her sisters’ letters, she heard a sound next door. It started as a moan, a sort of mewling wail.

Rachel lifted her head, trying to figure out where it came from. She looked at the bolted door that led to Daniel’s room and stared at the lock, listening intently as to whether another sound would follow.

It can’t have been him.

She busied herself with her letters, folding them together.

Suddenly, a strong sound pierced the air. It was an almighty bellow from Daniel’s room. It ripped from his chamber and into hers, leaving her hands trembling around the letters.

“No. No!” Daniel bellowed, the fear apparent, his voice deeper than she had ever heard before. “Don’t hurt him. No more of this. No more blood can be shed!”

Rachel leapt to her feet and ran to the door. Sliding back the bolt and turning the key in the lock, she feared it would be bolted on the other side too, but to her relief, the door swung open as she pushed against it.