Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

T he next morning dawned bright and beautiful, a true northern summer. The gorse was merry and yellow, the sky was blue, and the waves boomed against the cliff.

Evangeline sat up in bed, hugging her knees to her chest, and tried not to think too deeply about what had happened with the duke.

He had kissed her. Roughly and aggressively, without any indication from her that she would be amenable to kissing. And instead of beating him off or telling him how little she appreciated the behavior, she had kissed him back.

She had enjoyed it.

This was not the marriage she had signed up for.

How dare she allow him to kiss her like that? The servants already disliked her; she wanted to do nothing to make it worse.

Decision made, she rang the bell beside the bed, summoning her lady's maid to the room. This was going to be the beginning of a new era, where she became the duchess everyone wanted her to be.

Not a wife. But a lady of the house. The duke had said that she might have a free run of the house except for the west wing, and she fully intended to make the most of that.

Her lady's maid was called Susan, and she was from one of the local villagers. By the looks of it, she was only a few years older than Evangeline, and she was determined to befriend her. If only she could have one friend here.

"How long have you worked at the castle?" Evangeline asked as Susan fastened a gold necklace around her throat.

"About ten years, Your Grace. I was hired here as an undermaid, and I worked my way up from there. This is my first time as a proper lady's maid, however.

There—" She clammed up, tightening her lips together. "Anyway, this is good experience for me," she said, a little too quickly, as though she wanted to brush over her stumble as quickly as possible. "And I hope you will have no complaints about me to Mrs. MacDonald. Let me know if there's anything else I can do to help you."

"I'm sure we'll get on wonderfully," Evangeline said, giving the woman a warm smile. "If you could just direct me to the breakfast room? I'm afraid I don't know my way around yet."

Susan's round face didn't change color or flinch, and Evangeline reflected with relief that it didn't sound as though her midnight activities were known by the majority of the staff.

"Of course, Your Grace. If you're ready for breakfast, just follow me. This way."

Evangeline trailed the girl down the staircases and into the main body of the castle. When she was inside, it was hard to believe this was the formidable castle she saw from the outside; everything had been done up so beautifully, the walls that weren't wallpapered covered in dark wooden paneling that reminded her of the older sections of her father's home.

"We take breakfast in the morning room, usually," Susan explained as they reached the room, a table already dressed and laid in preparation. "His Grace rises early and has already eaten, so you will never surprise the servants if you wish to breakfast early."

Of course: country hours were radically different from those of the city. This far north, too, she expected things were even more different.

Still, if this was to be her life, she would accustom herself to it.

"Thank you, Susan," she said.

Susan bobbed a curtsy. "Of course, Your Grace."

Evangeline bit back her instinctive response that Susan could merely call her ‘miss', a term to which she had become far more accustomed. She was a duchess now, and she would have to force herself to grow accustomed to her new title.

Formality was a duchess's burden. She could not become overly familiar with the servants, no matter how lonely she became. It would not be seemly; it would not be done.

After securing breakfast for herself, Evangeline asked for the housekeeper again, this time to explain in more precise terms how the house was kept.

"You see," Evangeline said, "I have no intention of coming in and changing things if everything is already running smoothly. But I feel as though it's best if I'm in possession of all the facts, and it strikes me that you know the most about the house, Mrs. MacDonald."

"Well, I suppose I do, and that's a fact." Mrs. MacDonald gave her a shrewd glance. "You don't get to my age without learning a thing or two, and I've been working here since before the late duke died, although I wasn't the housekeeper then."

"When did the former duke die?"

"Fifteen years ago now. It was a sorry business."

Fifteen years ago. Evangeline still had an imperfect understanding of her husband, given he showed so little of himself to her, but fifteen years ago would meant that he was still as a boy. Perhaps fourteen or fifteen. Too young to carry the burden of a dukedom.

"How very tragic," she said impulsively, thinking of the young man he must have been, how terrifying the prospect must have seemed.

Then again, perhaps he was as much then as he was now: tall and stoic. Unaffected by the world around him and always in control. She could not imagine a scenario in which he was not in control.

Mrs. MacDonald gave her an approving glance. "Yes, it was a terrible time for us all, and especially for the duke, taking over from his father, although he did a wonderful job, you know. Couldn't have asked for anything better. Turned the place around."

"No, of course not," Evangeline said. Better not let it slip that she had been given a less than stellar impression of their duke so far. "I did have one question, however. The duke is adamant I stay away from the west wing, but he has never given me a reason why."

"Ah." Any warmth that had been on Mrs. MacDonald's face drained away. "Yes, well. That's a matter for the duke, I'm afraid. I cannot tell you."

"But am I not now the duchess?"

"It's best to follow the duke's instructions, ma'am. It's not my place to say."

"Do I not have a right to know?"

"In his home, the duke's word is law. If you have a problem, Your Grace, might I suggest you take it up with him?"

At the words, an alarming recollection of the last time she had confronted him occurred to her. His mouth against hers, demanding and hungry. His hands on her body, holding her tight to him. And his body, long and hard, so much bigger than hers, so much more powerful.

She should have hated it.

"Mrs. MacDonald!" One of the maids hurried toward the housekeeper, only stopping when she saw Evangeline there, too. "Oh," she said. "Your Grace."

"Never mind me," Evangeline said. "What's the matter?"

"Oh, well, it's just…" The girl hesitated, screwing up her face in confusion.

"Out with it," Mrs. MacDonald said. "I assume it's an emergency?"

"It's Joan, ma'am. She's in a state. And Linda from the village hasn't come in—I suppose she's ill, but we've had no warning, and there's no one else who can come in at such short notice, and Arnaud is up in arms."

"Who is Arnaud?" Evangeline asked.

"The chef, ma'am."

Mrs. MacDonald glanced at Evangeline, but she held steady. "I suppose the first thing to do is see what Joan is upset about. Then we can address the missing girl. Was she to help in the kitchens?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Well then." Evangeline adjusted the waist of her morning dress. "Shall we, Mrs. MacDonald?"

"Of course, ma'am," the woman murmured, gesturing for her to follow the maid.

They passed through the main body of the house and down into the plainer servants' quarters.

"I put her in your room, Mrs. MacDonald," the maid said. "On account of her being beside herself."

"Thank you, Hattie. That will be all."

The maid bobbed a curtsy. "Yes, Mrs. MacDonald."

"Joan has been a problem since she started here," Mrs. MacDonald muttered, the keys at her waist clanking as she strode down the narrow corridor to the housekeeper's room. "Flighty, often late, and I think she's been flirting with the footmen."

"Well, let's see what she has to say for herself," Evangeline said, holding herself tall although she knew the lady of the house very rarely descended into the servants' quarters.

Usually, if she wished to see a member of staff, she would have them summoned to her.

But this was clearly not a usual situation, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it before the duke discovered the disruption. Not because she was afraid of him, but because she had a deep, urgent need for him to see her as an equal. Capable, confident, worthy of being his duchess.

Worthy of the secrets he chose to hide from her.

"Here we go," Mrs. MacDonald said, opening the door to her room. It was small, although there was a grate for a fire in winter, and ledgers open on the small desk. In one of two chairs was a maid, her face in her hands as she quietly sobbed.

Although Evangeline had no real experience with running a household, her heart went out at the sight of such raw and unashamed grief, and she had to hold herself back from going to the girl.

"Now then," Mrs. MacDonald said, but her voice wasn't unkind. "What's going on here?"

"Oh, Mrs. MacDonald." The girl sobbed harder. "It's exactly as me mam said would happen, but I never listened to her."

"And what's that?"

The girl lifted a wan, tear-stained face up to them both, and started at the sight of Evangeline.

"Your Grace," she managed and sniffed heroically. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you."

"Nonsense," Evangeline said briskly, pulling up a chair. "Now what's the matter? What did your mother say would happen?"

"Told me Greg was bad news."

Evangeline glanced at Mrs. MacDonald, who sighed. "One of the footmen."

"He said he loved me, and we would walk out together and marry in the local church, but then after he—after we…" Her sobbing grew louder. "He said he had no time for someone as loose as I was, and that he couldn't be certain the baby is his, but it is… it is. I've not been with anyone else. There's no way it could belong to anyone else."

Seeing the girl was about to become hysterical, Evangeline leaned forward. "That must have been very scary for you. He's telling you that he won't provide for the child?"

"No, and he's saying he won't marry me, or do any of the things he promised when he was stepping out with me."

Evangeline massaged her eyes. This was precisely the sort of thing that did sometimes happen when men and women worked together, she knew, but she had never stepped so close to it before.

"I see," she said after a moment. "Do you live nearby?"

She sniffed. "I traveled up from Amble to take this position, ma'am."

"Well of course we should take action," Evangeline said and glanced at Mrs. MacDonald, who blinked in surprise. "There'll be no hiding the baby once she starts to show. Do you know of any positions outside this area?"

"Outside the area?" Joan asked.

"Well, anyone from this area will know you aren't married, of course. We're in a war—any number of husbands die, and no one will think all that much of it." She clapped her hands briskly together. Even in the ton, there had been younger sons lost to the war. This was not so very different. "And of course, we must let Greg go."

"He had been getting lazier by my account," Mrs. MacDonald muttered. "But what are we to tell Mr. Moore? He won't like to hear of this."

"I'm sure we can think of something," Evangeline said. "Am I not in charge of the household now? If he causes problems, please refer him to me, Mrs. MacDonald. My husband has given me leave to address the household and running of the house as I see fit, and I shall do so. With your help, of course."

"Of course." There was an appreciative gleam in her eyes. "Very well. I'll see to it, but don't you worry about Mr. Moore causing you any problems, Your Grace."

"We shall let Greg go immediately," Evangeline said. "And we shall look for a new position for you, Joan, with immediate effect. If we find somewhere far enough from here, no one will know anything other than what you've told them, and we must be able to find a wedding band from somewhere." Evangeline sucked on her teeth. "Perhaps the duke has a hunting lodge? I'm sure they could do with a new maid, and it wouldn't be too much trouble to arrange care for the babe when it arrives."

"If you think the duke would agree," Mrs. MacDonald said.

"I see no reason why he should not."

Mrs. MacDonald turned back to the weeping girl. "Thank the mistress now, Joan, and be grateful you weren't turned out on your ear. And let this be a lesson to you."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Joan said through her tears. "I am so very grateful. My mother—she has enough children of her own to contend with, and she doesn't have space for me and the baby anyway."

"Well, you won't have to worry about that," Evangeline said, her soft heart touched.

If she could bring some kindness to this place, it would be well worth doing, and it would be something that the duke could not offer purely by himself.

"Stay here until you've cleaned yourself up," Mrs. MacDonald said. "And then you can continue with your chores as usual."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, then," Evangeline said, clapping her hands as she rose. "What is the issue in the kitchen?"

* * *

Running a household this large was a considerable task, and by the end of the week, Evangeline was relieved that she had Mrs. MacDonald to see to the ordinary, everyday things. The duke was often out of the house entirely or locked away in his study, and she made no effort to approach him.

She also made no further midnight visits.

The duke had not visited her bed, and by the end of the week, she had given up expecting him to. Whatever had overcome him the night of the storm seemed well and truly over, and she told herself she was relieved.

A full week after she had arrived, Evangeline was dining alone—as usual—when the butler entered the room.

"Your Grace," he said in his ponderous way. "Your presence is required."

Evangeline laid down her knife. "Oh? By whom, if you please?"

"There are some guests awaiting you in the stateroom. If you would follow me?"

"Certainly." Left with no choice, Evangeline wiped her fingers with a napkin and rose to her feet.

She brushed down her dress. Given she didn't know anyone in the area, she thought it odd that there were supposedly guests awaiting her.

Of all the inner rooms of the castle, the stateroom was the one that most appeared like a castle, complete with crossed swords on the wall and matching suits of armor on either side of the two large chairs that had been placed before the fire like thrones.

Above them all was the portrait that Evangeline had noticed on her first visit to the castle.

"Good morning," she said as she approached, giving them her best smile. "How may I help you?"

The men glanced at one another. By the looks of their faces, they were not gentlemen precisely, but she suspected they were influential men in their district; their clothing was not in the style she was accustomed to seeing in London, but it was clear they paid notable attention to their appearance.

"Ah divvent believe it," one of the men muttered, and Evangeline viewed them with a sinking heart. "Where's the duke?"

"I believe he's out," Evangeline said, summoning her courage. "But if you have any questions or grievances, you can address them to me. Would you like some tea?"

One of the men, short and heavyset, sneered. "Tea? Is that what you think will solve everything, princess?"

"Are you the duchess?" another asked.

Evangeline raised her chin. "Yes, I am the new Duchess of Eldermoor."

"Aye, but it isn't just a title, lady," the first man said, eyes slate gray and just as hard. "What do you know about the land? Ever been up here before?"

Never mind that, Evangeline was struggling to make out his words due to the thickness of his accent. All of a sudden, she felt very small and alone in the large stateroom, and she wondered why these men, who were looking increasingly rough to her eyes, had ever been invited in.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"His Grace's tenants. We work down his mine, and we keep his sheep. What do you know about sheep shearing, Your Grace?"

"Don't even bother, Derrick. Lady like her probably doesn't even know what a sheep is."

Of course, I do , she wanted to retort, but she heard how childish and foolish the words were even to her own ears.

Instead, as her heartbeat pulsed in her ears, she said, "Do you have a particular problem you wish to speak to my husband about?"

"Aye, but it ain't likely you'll be able to fix it for us. The duke, now he knows what hard work is like, but I wouldn't want to sully your precious gloves."

All the men laughed, and Evangeline took a step back, blood flaring into her face and shame crawling across her body.

No matter how awful these men were, they were right. She knew nothing about their ways of life, and she had been raised in a way that they would no doubt call ‘soft'. Evidently, they did not think she was worthy of being the duchess of this land, and perhaps they were right.

"Enough!" The voice rang across the room, filled with authority and the hard edge of anger. The men stepped and turned, their shoulders tightening and faces paling.

Evangeline had never heard the duke sound like that as he strode toward them, his face a mask of rage. Yes, he had been angry like that, but the single word had been a whip, flaying the backs of these men wide.

"Is this what you think is due to me?" he demanded, looking into the faces of each man in turn. "How dare you defy my wife? She is your duchess just as I am your duke, and you are to afford her the same respect you would offer me."

"That's all very well," one of the men objected, and Evangeline practically watched the man cower as the duke turned his iron-hot gaze on him, "but she isn't of the same stock. London bred."

"And you think that makes her inferior?" The duke's voice was softer now, but it held only menace, and he stalked closer. "If you ever badmouth the lady I chose to be my wife again, whether to her face or behind her back, I will not allow you on my land, whether it's to eat or to work or to grovel on my coattails. Do you understand?"

The man ducked his head. "Yes, Your Grace."

"To my study. I'll deal with you there."

The men flinched and all but scurried from the room, their spirits broken with such effectiveness, that Evangeline was almost in awe. But more than that, she was amazed he had gone to such lengths to defend her .

"Thank you, Your Grace," she said when she could find her voice, and when his gaze swung to her, it looked somewhat less murderously angry.

"It wasn't for your sake," he said dismissively. "I cannot have my subjects thinking I chose an incompetent wife."

"Oh, but you do think so?"

One eyebrow rose. "I think you know nothing about Eldermoor or the land surrounding it."

"How can I, without someone to teach me? Or do you expect me to plow the fields with the rest of your men?"

"I'll bring someone to the castle to teach you everything you should know," he said and turned to leave. "Do try to learn," he added dryly as he reached the door.

Alone in the room, Evangeline seethed, and not for the first time. If she achieved one thing in her time here, it would be to show the duke she was capable.

Whether he liked it or not.