Page 35 of Three Rules to Wed a Duke

She thanked Mrs. Barrett for her time and returned upstairs to continue her exploration, marveling at the portraits that still adorned the walls. The faces of Anthony’s relations looked down at her, and though they were serious and composed as most painter’s subjects were, there was always a hint of a smile or a slight sheen of mischief to them. They were so unlike Anthony’s ever-present indecipherable mask that she almost wondered how they could possibly be part of his past.

“Your Grace? Some of the items you ordered have been delivered. Shall I carry them up?” the butler asked, coming up behind her.

“Thank you, Vickers. But I’m happy to take them. I’d like to see which things are here.”

Frances followed the butler to the front foyer where a number of parcels were stacked on a narrow table. She knew the few gownsshe’d ordered could not possibly be ready, but she hoped this was some of the fabric she requested to make other necessary things.

It will give me something to do to keep from going mad!she thought, brightening at the prospect of setting about to do some sewing and grateful for the endless hours of labor at Miss Chatham’s that had prepared her to make her entire trousseau.

“Let’s see, this one should be from Greggerson’s shop, so I believe it will be my sewing tools,” she said, untying the twine and reserving the paper it was wrapped in. Sure enough, the small wooden box held her needles, scissors, bodkins, and a few unfashionable buttons.

Next, Frances untied the first soft parcel and found several lengths of serviceable muslin in different shades. Though the fabric was merely long rectangles of cloth, she still felt the need to shield them from Mr. Vickers’ eyes as she knew they would be used for undergarments.

“What’s this?” Frances asked, frowning as she untied another parcel and saw a luxuriously soft morning gown with slippers to match. “I don’t think this is mine.”

“Oh?” the butler asked, coming closer.

“Nor is this one,” Frances said, untying another parcel and lifting out a shawl of the softest wool she’d ever felt. Her confusion only deepened when she opened another to reveal a small box of paints and a sheaf of heavy paper bound with a thinleather cord, followed by a carton that contained several new books.

“Your Grace, I’m so sorry. The shops must have sent these to the wrong address. Probably brought by an errand boy who does not know his letters well. I will see to it personally that they are sent back straight away,” Mr. Vickers said, gathering up the misplaced items.

“Thank you! I hate to think that someone is missing their purchases today, especially such lovely items as those,” she said, smiling gratefully.

“Of course,” the butler said with a bow.

Frances took her sewing kit and fabric with her as she headed upstairs. As she climbed, she thought of something she’d wondered about the ballroom and turned around to ask him. To her amazement, he was gone, already carrying the misplaced parcels to some other part of the house. She came back down the stairs and looked after him, surprised at the speed with which he squirreled them away.

As Frances crept after him to see what was happening, Miss O’Reilly appeared at the far end of the long hallway. The butler spoke to her urgently, then placed the items in her arms and she left with them.

That’s rather odd, Frances thought, hurrying back to the staircase before Mr. Vickers returned.Perhaps Miss O’Reilly will be the one to return them to the stores…or perhaps theywere her things to begin with? But why not simply inform me that they were her purchases?

Deciding that she may simply never understand all the strange things that go on in Cadmoor House, Frances sighed and carried her items upstairs to begin her work.

CHAPTER 14

“Good evening, Your Grace. I’ve come to let you know that dinner will be ready within the hour if you would like to begin dressing,” Mrs. Barrett said as had become her custom.

Frances looked up from the table where she’d been toiling away for the better of the afternoon at her sewing. She glanced at the windows and was taken aback to see that the sun had already sunk behind the London skyline. Looking back to the growing pile of pattern pieces she’d already cut, she sighed.

“I hadn’t realized the time, Mrs. Barrett,” she said with a gentle laugh of derision.

“You’ve certainly been busy today,” the housekeeper agreed.

“Has the lady’s maid I wrote off for replied yet?”

“I haven’t received word, but I shall be happy to continue helping you myself until she does. Don’t worry about that.”

Frances looked at her gratefully. There was no reason to assume that Sara would leave her uncle’s employment and take a position at Anthony’s house. Still, Frances certainly hoped she would accept her offer, especially after how the girl had helped her in keeping a few of her things. But Mrs. Barrett’s assistance would be most welcome in the meantime.

“I cannot keep asking you to do more than you already do,” she replied. “I’ll manage for myself, I promise. So, are you thinking that I shouldn’t be late for another meal?”

Mrs. Barrett glanced away at the sight of Frances’ smirk, and then came closer.

“Your Grace, I know this must be terribly difficult for you. It’s all so new and strange, but if you could find it in your heart to think of how it must feel to be the duke in all of this. This house has long been his private sanctuary—”

“His prison, you mean,” Frances corrected, and Mrs. Barrett only looked grim.

“It would only be a prison to those who wish for less solitude. His grace enjoys his privacy. If you only knew how hard it was for him to venture out and attend the very events where he first met you, you would perhaps have more sympathy for him?” she asked, as though trying not to sound like she was scolding her.

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