Chapter 12

Frances did not see Anthony for the rest of the afternoon. He was not around in the evening either. Just as she wondered whether he'd been serious about dining together, Mrs. Barrett knocked on the door to her chambers.

"Dinner will be ready within the hour if you would like to begin getting dressed, Your Grace."

"I fear I am dressed, at least until my friend's trunk arrives." Frances looked down at the gown she'd worn throughout the day and grimaced, knowing that it wasn't exactly ideal for her first dinner with Anthony.

"I see. Well, never fear, your gown is lovely and will be perfectly suitable. How are you finding your rooms?"

"They're very nice," Frances answered, though she didn't mention how plain they seemed.

"No one has used these rooms for quite some time, so though I can assure you they have been scrubbed from floor to rafter, I fear they are in need of some livening up. If you would like to do anything to them, I'm happy to take down your instructions and send for the work."

"Truly?" Frances asked, feeling cheered by the offer. "I was thinking that perhaps some curtains and a new bedcover might be nice. I have no need of expensive wallpaper or other furnishings, though a coat of paint in something other than this mourning dove grey would be much appreciated."

"Your Grace, you are welcome to make any change you like. There are parts of the house where the duke is more particular, but these are your chambers now."

"I suppose it's hard to change one's viewpoint so quickly," she said sheepishly. "Going from being someone's spare relation and something of a burden to overseeing the house will take some time to get used to."

"I'm sure you'll do marvelously," Mrs. Barrett said warmly. "Do remember what the duke has said about mealtimes, though. He is quite adamant about that."

"Yes, I'll remember. But tell me, if you'll pardon my asking, is there some reason he is so intent on me joining him?"

Mrs. Barrett looked down, and for a moment, Frances feared she'd said something wrong. She should have known better than to ask someone to speak about her employer, especially if she's quite loyal to him. Fortunately, the housekeeper didn't seem to mind.

"Your Grace, you may not have noticed in the short time since you first met the duke, but he has some peculiar ways about him. At times, he seems to find it difficult to speak plainly with people. Forgive me for saying so, but I've been with his family since I was just a young thing starting out, and I've known this to always be true about him. I'm sorry if this is too bold of me to say, but… is your marriage a love match?"

"What an unexpected question, Mrs. Barrett!" Frances said at once, unsure of how to respond.

"Forgive me, Your Grace, I beg you! But I think my meaning is this—even if you haven't known His Grace long enough to form any sort of affection for him, I wonder if that isn't the case for him."

"What do you mean?"

"I shouldn't speak ill of him, but—" Mrs. Barrett stopped when someone knocked on the door behind her, causing her to startle. She opened it to find Miss O'Reilly, the nurse, standing there.

"Mrs. Barrett, I need you!" the younger woman said before rushing off.

Without so much as a word of explanation, the housekeeper followed after her, leaving Frances to wonder what that was all about.

And what had she been about to tell me? Something about Anthony and his reasons for marriage?Frances thought, a chill of suspense and concern settling over her.

She peered out through the open door but didn't see any sign of either of the women. After closing her door behind her, Frances made her way along the hallway and down the grand staircase that led to the main floor. There, she was startled by the butler coming around the corner with a watchful look on his face.

"Oh, Vickers! I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you there," she said brightly.

"My apologies, Your Grace," he said evenly, bowing as he spoke.

"It's quite all right. I'm only wondering where to find the dining room. I believe I'm to eat with His Grace this evening."

"If you'll come this way, I will take you myself. As His Grace has not come down yet, I can show you all of the first floor at least, and perhaps we'll have time to see the rest of the house as well?"

"That would be lovely, thank you!" Frances said, grateful to find that the staff was small but very pleasant.

As the butler escorted her room by room throughout the house, Frances noticed something unusual. The structure of the immense home was solid and well-cared for, but there were many small hints of disrepair here and there. Some of the rooms were in dire need of a coat of paint, while others had a cracked windowpane or lopsided chandeliers. They were only little things at first, but soon enough, they appeared to be lurking everywhere.

"It does seem like there are a few repairs that might need to be made," Frances ventured, hoping she didn't sound demanding.

"There certainly are, Your Grace," Mr. Vickers answered approvingly.

"Is the duke uninterested in seeing to it?" she hinted.

"I think it might be more a matter of not noticing. When one lives in a residence all his life, it's easy to overlook a number of things without intending to. And of course, His Grace is a very busy man."

"Of course. That's why a wife with a good head about her might make some suggestions, if he is amenable to that sort of thing."

Frances waited for the butler to understand her veiled meaning. How ludicrous it was to have to speak in sly phrases and coded words! She never had to be so formal with Mr. Robbins or Mrs. Pennings.

"I should think His Grace would welcome such a conversation, so long as it is presented as a desire to be helpful," the butler finally answered slowly. "Ah, here we have the dining room, Your Grace."

Frances looked inside and was pleased to see that this particular room was actually very well appointed. Sconces lined the walls and held thick pillar candles, their flames burning brighter thanks to small silver plates that were mounted behind them. A long table, room enough for twenty or more, filled the center of the room, its chairs waiting empty for guests. Three chandeliers hung overhead, each holding dozens of smaller candles that were not lit, for what would be the use in such an ordeal as lighting them only to extinguish them once more after the duke finished his meal?

"Good evening, Anthony," Frances said as she entered the room.

Anthony stood up from his seat to greet her. "Good evening."

Mr. Vickers returned quickly, only long enough to inform Frances that a trunk had just been brought in courtesy of Lady Agnes Young.

"Would you like me to take it to your rooms, or should Mrs. Barrett go through it first and see if anything needs laundering or mending?" he asked.

"Oh, I cannot possibly ask her to do that. I will be more than happy to see to those tasks, so putting it in my room would be wonderful," she answered, though she was taken aback by his look of surprise. Still, he nodded and hurried off to see to the trunk.

Anthony gestured for her to sit near him, then he took his seat once more. He smiled awkwardly, as if uncertain what to do now that he finally had a companion to dine with. Frances returned his smile, then waited silently for something to talk about.

"Were you able to finish your work?" she inquired politely.

"Most of it, I suppose," he answered, looking down at his hands.

"That's good to hear," Frances said cheerfully. She fumbled for something else to talk about, then settled on the house. "Vickers showed me around the house, though we didn't have time to see the gardens. It's as lovely inside as out."

Anthony nodded, and Frances realized she'd put him in a position of having to accept the praise and seem like a braggart or refute it and argue with her. She chided herself, but moved onto something else quickly.

"I thought perhaps tomorrow you could show me the gardens," she suggested, but Anthony didn't look at her.

"I'm afraid I will have a very busy day tomorrow," he replied simply.

"I see," she said, folding her hands in her lap and waiting.

Frances looked around the dining room, hoping to think of something else they might talk about. The walls were mostly bare, and like the rest of the house, she began to notice small imperfections here and there, all the hallmark of a great many years without more attention. It was confounding, to say the least, for what sort of man had enough funds to refuse her dowry and send her off to the shops, yet couldn't keep up his own home?

"Mrs. Barrett informed me your rooms are not to your liking," Anthony finally said, though it sounded more like a simple observation rather than something that angered him.

"My word, that's not what I said at all," Frances said carefully. "On the contrary, I told her they were lovely."

"But you wish to change them. Therefore, that must mean they don't meet your approval."

"Why no, that's not what I meant at all. That is to say, I did mention maybe some brighter paint for the walls, perhaps more cheerful curtains, that sort of thing. But I don't need any of those things. It was merely a suggestion. My rooms are fine."

Anthony was quiet for too long, and Frances began to fret that she had upset him. She'd never thought that someone would be so attached to any particular room, for she hadn't had a home of her own since she was a little girl. They waited in silence for something to give, then finally Anthony spoke.

"I want you to be happy. If you would like to make any changes, of course that's what we shall do."

"Thank you," Frances said quietly, though she couldn't ignore the feeling that she'd wounded him somehow.

Mr. Vickers arrived with a tray laden with their dinner, and Mrs. Barrett came in behind him with another tray. Both were set down on the sideboard and the plates served before being placed in front of Anthony and Frances.

"My apologies for the lateness, Your Grace, but Miss O'Reilly needed my help urgently this afternoon and I didn't get to start cooking the dinner on time," Mrs. Barrett said, looking at the duke pointedly.

Anthony quickly snapped his attention to the housekeeper. He looked at her as something unspoken passed between them.

"Was everything all right?" he finally asked.

"Yes, Your Grace. This time."

"Thank you, Mrs. Barrett." Anthony rose to his feet at once, then stopped and looked around. "My apologies, Frances, but I'm afraid I have something I need to attend to. Mrs. Barrett, will you please take my plate to my study? I will eat it later."

And then he was gone.

"What was that all about?" Frances managed to whisper after several moments of sitting alone at the table.

"I'm sorry, Your Grace, but this is what I tried to speak to you about this afternoon. I was called away to help Miss O'Reilly and didn't finish explaining."

"Explaining what exactly, Mrs. Barrett?" Frances was near tears with the whirling storm of emotions she'd endured in just a single day.

The housekeeper looked around for a moment, then gestured to the chair beside Frances with a questioning glance. Frances nodded, and Mrs. Barrett pulled the chair out to sit down beside her.

"Your Grace, as you become accustomed to residing here at Cadmoor House, you will come to discover that the duke is rather particular in his ways. I'm sure it comes from his many years of being a bachelor and residing here… alone. He is quite unique in some of his mannerisms, and in my own opinion, that is what makes him such a special man."

"Unique? Or do you mean strange?" Frances pressed, glaring slightly.

"I wouldn't call it that, but then again, I've known His Grace for quite a number of years. I know him to be kind and very caring, but people who don't know him so well might think his ways strange."

"But, you don't mean… cold? Cruel? Anything of the sort?"

"Good heavens, never! His Grace would never hurt anyone, nor even utter an unkind word. But sometimes, he might say or do something that he does not realize is so unconventional that others might take offense."

"Like just now, you mean," Frances said, gesturing to the empty table.

"Precisely!" Mrs. Barrett answered happily. "You and I might think it quite odd for someone to simply leave the table at the very start of the meal, but His Grace does not see anything wrong with it. He had something urgent to attend to, and simply felt he must see to it straight away. But he most certainly did not mean any harm, and he would be greatly grieved if he thought he had upset you."

"I see. So, he has some very unusual ways about him, but I should spare his feelings by not complaining. Is that what you mean?" Frances asked, her voice somewhat cold with the hint of accusation.

Mrs. Barrett winced. "I'm terribly sorry, Your Grace. I did not mean to upset you. I was only trying to help you understand your husband better for I know he is different from others in a few ways."

"It's all right, Mrs. Barrett. I'm very sorry I spoke harshly," Frances said with a sigh. "If I might confess it, this has all been a lot for me to accept. First, marrying at all, and to a stranger at that. But then the upheaval of losing favor with my only family, sorting through the chaos of my wedding day, and now this. I know you were trying to be helpful, and I do appreciate it. I promise!"

"I'm so relieved, Your Grace. I do want you to be happy here, and to feel as though this is your home. But you must also understand that the duke has his own ways of doing things. I'm sure in time you will not even notice!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Barrett," Frances said as an afterthought when the housekeeper stood to return to the kitchen.

But I'm afraid I do notice it, she thought unhappily, and I can only long for the day when I find it not so strange! There must be a way to cause his stone exterior to crumble.