Page 31 of Three Rules to Wed a Duke

“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 hislook 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.”

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