Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

H anna sat before the mirror as Viola fluttered about her, taking out an assortment of gowns from the wardrobe and displaying them one by one. The fabric of each dress swayed, shimmering in the candlelight, while Viola’s chatter filled the air.

“This one would be lovely, Your Grace,” she declared, holding up a gown in a soft shade of eggshell blue, with a delicate demi-train that trailed gracefully behind. “It would truly accentuate your beautiful eyes.”

“It will do,” Hanna replied, her voice devoid of interest.

Suddenly, her stomach rumbled, and she placed a hand over it in an attempt to stifle the sound. But Viola, quick as ever, had heard it.

“Well, it is about time for dinner,” Viola said with a smile, a touch of mischief in her eyes. “You must be ravenous, Your Grace. And if I may say, Cook has outdone herself this evening. She’s preparing a fine pigeon pie, simple but hearty, just as you like it. The first course will be white soup, and for dessert, there shall be a trifle with layers of cream and berries. All your favorites, Your Grace.”

Hanna raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly. “I take it you’ve informed them of my preferences, since I certainly haven’t,” she noted.

Viola nodded, looking quite pleased with herself. “Indeed, Your Grace. I had a conversation with Mrs. Maple earlier, and I made certain she knew what you enjoy. I thought it might help to make things a bit more comfortable for you.” She hesitated, then added, “You know, Lady Hanna—oh, I beg your pardon, Your Grace—the servants are doing everything they can to make you feel at home.”

Hanna gave a faint, almost melancholic smile. “I know,” she murmured. “And I do appreciate it. Truly, I do. But I find it difficult to rise from bed in the mornings, Viola. It’s as though all my energy has been drained from me.” Her voice faltered, and her shoulders sagged. “I do not wish to be here. I long to return home. As dreadful as it may sound, I’d rather remain under my father’s care.”

“But you cannot return home,” Viola said with a slight frown, her voice gentle but firm. “I do not mean to speak ill of your father, Your Grace, for he did employ me for many years. But I must be honest—I saw how he treated you and your sisters, and how he treated the servants. You may find it difficult to believe, but you are far better treated here.”

Hanna looked at her maid in disbelief, shaking her head. “How can you say that? You do not know His Grace.”

“That may be true, Your Grace,” Viola conceded. “But Mrs. Maple knows him well, as do Mr. Baxter and the other servants. They have all served his family for many years, and they hold him in great esteem. They speak highly of him and do not believe the gossip that surrounds his reputation. Besides,” she added with a slight blush, “His Grace was quite kind to me this morning.”

“Kind to you?” Hanna’s curiosity was piqued. “How so?”

Viola’s expression softened, and she glanced down at her hands. “The dog startled me this morning, Your Grace. I was carrying a tray with your breakfast when he jumped up and I lost my balance, spilling everything all over myself. It was quite a dreadful mess, and it happened right in front of His Grace. I was prepared for a severe reprimand, as I was accustomed to at your father’s house, but instead, he assisted me. He helped me up, called for a footman to clean the mess, and told me to go change my clothes. He even said that this was not a household where one should be chastised for a small accident.”

Hanna fell silent, taken aback by the story. She had not yet spoken with any of the other servants in the manor, so she knew nothing about their opinion of her husband. Viola’s account sounded promising, but it didn’t erase the sharp tone with which Edwin had spoken to her earlier that morning.

“Perhaps he is kind to the servants,” Hanna replied coolly. “But when he summoned me to his study, he treated me like a child, ordering me to eat.”

Viola bit her lip, hesitating before speaking. “Your Grace, if I might be permitted to speak freely?—”

“You always do,” Hanna pointed out with a dry chuckle, waving her hand dismissively.

“It needed to be said,” Viola insisted, a note of earnestness in her voice. “Someone had to tell you the truth, and I am relieved that His Grace did. The way you’ve been acting these past few days… it’s most unhealthy. You must try to make the best of things, or else you’ll only make yourself ill?—”

Hanna raised her hand, cutting her off. “I believe I’ve changed my mind. I rather you don’t speak quite so freely.” She turned away with a huff.

But she could still hear the sigh of exasperation behind her and knew that Viola meant well. Despite her irritation, she couldn’t bring herself to dismiss the girl—she was, after all, the only person who appeared to be on her side.

Hanna stood up and let Viola help her into her dress, and once she was ready, they left the chamber together. As they made their way down the hall, a sudden bark echoed through the corridor. Hanna froze, every muscle tensing up, and collided with Viola, who instinctively placed a steadying hand on her back.

“That beast again,” Hanna muttered through clenched teeth. “It is a menace.”

“His name is Ruby, and I felt the same way at first,” Viola replied soothingly. “Especially after this morning’s incident. But he is quite sweet, really.”

“You’ll never convince me that a dog is sweet,” Hanna said, her voice laced with disdain.

But as they approached the main staircase, her steps slowed, her attention caught by the sight of the dog behind a makeshift wooden gate at the far end of the hallway leading to Edwin’s chambers. Ruby barked excitedly, his front paws pressed against the gate, and he occasionally stood on his hind legs to peer over the top.

“His Grace instructed the footmen to install the gate this morning,” Viola explained with a touch of pride. “It’s rather clever, really. It can be moved to any doorway as long as the measurements match. Mrs. Maple told him that it was unfair for you to be afraid to walk through your own home, so His Grace arranged for the gate to be set up to keep Ruby out of your way until you’re more comfortable with him.”

Hanna paused, staring at the dog, now confined to a single hallway. She couldn’t help but feel a flicker of gratitude. It was not something she would have expected Edwin to do, and it made her reconsider, if only for a moment, her opinion of him.

“I can scarcely believe it,” she murmured, though her words were tinged with disbelief rather than doubt.

But as she spoke, her gaze met Ruby’s, and for a moment, she felt a pang of sympathy. The dog appeared utterly miserable, confined to such a small space, when he had once roamed freely around the manor. It was clear that the animal longed for more than the narrow hallway allowed.

“Why have a dog if one does not train it properly?” Hanna mused aloud as they continued their walk down the stairs.

“It is not His Grace’s dog, Your Grace,” Viola corrected gently. “Ruby belonged to his brother, the former Duke. From what I understand, His Grace has taken responsibility for him since his brother’s passing, though he has done so with some reluctance, for the dog reminds him of his brother.”

Hanna’s heart skipped a beat, and she glanced over her shoulder once more at the barking dog. “The brother he is rumored to have killed,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Viola offered no response, and for a moment, Hanna felt a pang of doubt. If Edwin had truly killed his brother, would he have taken in the man’s beloved dog? Or had he done so out of some twisted sense of guilt, a way to atone for his sins?

She had no time to dwell on the matter further, for they had arrived at the door of the dining room, and Viola paused to smooth down her gown. “I hope you shall find this evening’s meal to your liking, Your Grace,” she said with a smile.

Hanna gave a small nod but said nothing, her thoughts still tangled with doubt, suspicion, and a faint flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, there might be more to her husband than she had allowed herself to believe.

She entered the dining room, her steps hesitant as she caught sight of Edwin standing at the head of the table. He looked up the moment she crossed the threshold, and what could only be relief flickered across his features. It was a far cry from the commanding, unyielding man she had encountered that morning.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, his voice softer than she expected. He moved toward her, the candlelight casting shadows on his angular face, and with a surprising display of gallantry, he pulled out her chair. “Please, sit.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, lowering herself into the seat as gracefully as she could manage.

As she smoothed the skirts of her gown, she could feel his eyes on her, studying her every movement. She glanced up and found herself staring into them, so intense that they made her pulse quicken.

“I… I hope I’m not late.”

“Not at all,” he assured her, settling into the chair across from her. “I am pleased you could join me this evening.” He paused, and his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. “I must say, it’s an improvement from dining alone.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up involuntarily at that, but she quickly forced herself to look down.

“Thank you,” she repeated, feeling absurdly self-conscious. “You are… very kind.”

Edwin smiled, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something genuine in his eyes—something that almost made her forget the reputation that clung to him like a shadow.

“How was your day?” he asked, lifting his glass of wine to his lips. “I trust Viola is proving to be of assistance?”

“She is,” Hanna replied. Despite herself, she felt a warmth blossom in her chest as she recalled her maid’s constant attempts to cheer her up. “She’s very attentive. I am grateful for her presence.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Edwin said. The sincerity in his voice made her glance up at him again. “I hope you shall find comfort in your new surroundings in time.”

“Yes,” Hanna muttered, then hesitated, gathering her courage. “And… thank you, for ensuring Ruby is kept behind a gate. I must admit, I feel much safer now.”

Edwin’s lips curled into the faintest of smiles. “You’re welcome. But I do hope, in time, you will grow to love him as well.” His voice softened, and he looked away, his eyes growing distant. “It was hard for me at first. He reminded me so much of my brother. But now…” He cleared his throat as if to compose himself. “Now, I find I cannot imagine life without him.”

Hanna studied him for a moment, the sincerity in his voice and the raw emotion in his eyes taking her by surprise. It was as if, for the first time, she saw a chink in his armor, a glimpse of something raw and real beneath the polished surface. But before she could form a reply, one of the footmen arrived, placing the first course—a bowl of white soup—in front of them.

They began to eat, though an awkward tension lingered in the air, thick and palpable. Hanna found herself struggling to form words, feeling every bit as unsure of herself as a child at her first grown-up dinner party. Edwin seemed to sense her discomfort, for he broke the silence again, his tone deliberately light.

“Are you settling in, then?” he asked, his eyes meeting hers over his wineglass. “Do you find everything to your liking?”

Hanna hesitated, her spoon pausing halfway to her lips. “I… I suppose so,” she replied, carefully choosing her words. “The house is beautiful, and everyone has been quite kind. It’s just…” she trailed off, biting her lip as she remembered how he had spoken to her that morning—how his words had cut through her, raw and unyielding.

Edwin seemed to sense her unease. “You have all your favorite foods this evening,” he said as if trying to steer the conversation into safer waters. “I hope it pleases you.”

“It does,” she replied, a touch of surprise coloring her voice. “How did you?—”

“Viola mentioned it,” he admitted, with a sheepish smile. “I thought it might help you feel more at home.”

Hanna’s heart twisted. There it was again—that flicker of something human, something kind. She wanted to hold on to it, to believe that this man was more than the rumors that surrounded him. But the doubt lingered, like a shadow that refused to be banished.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “It’s… very thoughtful.”

They lapsed into silence once more.

But after a moment, Edwin asked, “And your crocheting? How is that coming along?”

Hanna’s fingers tensed up around her fork. “I haven’t made anything yet,” she confessed quietly. “I’ve not been in the right state of mind.”

“Understandable,” Edwin acknowledged, and for once, there was no hint of reproach in his tone—only an acceptance that disarmed her. “But I do hope you will find some enjoyment in it soon. It might help take your mind off things.”

Hanna nodded but grew quiet again, her thoughts tumbling over themselves in an effort to make sense of the man before her. He seemed so different now—so unlike the man who had summoned her to his study that morning, demanding she eat. How could he be both?

“Are you quite alright?” Edwin asked suddenly, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. “I know you are troubled, and I know this is not easy. Perhaps you could tell me how I can help?”

Hanna swallowed hard, her heart beginning to beat painfully in her chest. “I… I am,” she began, her voice trembling. “I?—”

But before she could say another word, the door to the dining room swung open and a man entered. It took her a moment, but then she recalled his name.

Martin. Martin Clark, the Marquess of Chester. What was he doing here, and without an introduction? Was this usual?

“Forgive the intrusion, Edwin,” Martin said, inclining his head. “But I have urgent news that cannot wait.” Upon seeing her, he stopped and straightened up before bowing. “Excuse me, Your Grace. I was not expecting to see you.”

Neither was I, but I know better than to say so.

Hanna simply nodded and looked at Edwin, who sat back in his chair and narrowed his eyes at his friend.

“Martin,” he said, a hint of incredulity in his voice. “At this hour?”

Martin nodded, his gaze darting briefly to Hanna before returning to Edwin. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

Edwin sighed, the frustration bleeding from his shoulders as he forced himself to relax. “Very well,” he said, before gesturing toward Hanna. “But first, you must allow me to introduce you. Hanna, this is Martin Clark, my closest friend and advisor.” He hesitated, then added, almost awkwardly, “Martin, this is my wife, Hanna, the Duchess of Ashford.”

The word ‘wife’ hung in the air, like a weight pressing down on them both. It felt strange, foreign, even to him. Hanna saw the way his back stiffened, the way he braced himself, as if saying the word required effort. And at that moment, she felt a stab of pity, mingled with something else—something that felt like hope.

Martin stepped forward, bowing deeply. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Grace,” he said, his tone polite, though his eyes held a hint of curiosity.

“Thank you,” Hanna replied, offering him a small smile. “The pleasure is mine. Although we met once before, at the wedding.”

“Well then, Martin,” Edwin interjected, his earlier warmth gone, replaced by the cool authority of a man who was used to command. “What is this urgent matter you wish to discuss?”

Martin glanced at Hanna once more, hesitating. “Perhaps it would be best if we spoke in private?—”

“No,” Edwin interrupted, his voice firm. “If it concerns me, it concerns my wife as well.”

Hanna felt a tremor run through her, and she could see the surprise in Martin’s eyes. For a moment, no one spoke. The room seemed to grow colder, the tension hanging thick in the air.

“Very well,” Martin finally said, squaring his shoulders. “It’s about the estate in Northumberland. There’s been trouble.”

“Trouble?” Edwin’s eyes narrowed. “What sort of trouble?”

“The sort that requires your immediate attention,” Martin replied, his tone grave. “It seems someone has been tampering with the accounts. There are discrepancies— large discrepancies.”

Edwin’s jaw tightened, and Hanna watched as the warmth that had lingered in his eyes only moments before was replaced by a steely resolve.

“I see,” he said, his voice colder than she’d ever heard it. “I will deal with it.”

Hanna sat in stunned silence, watching as the man before her shifted from the hesitant, almost tender stranger who had pulled out her chair to the commanding, inscrutable Duke she had married. And at that moment, she realized just how little she knew about her husband.