Page 83 of Three Rules to Wed a Duke

“You never traveled here, even with your mother?”

“No. I fear it held too many wonderful memories for her. Visiting would be like reopening old wounds.”

“Wait, is it… it painful for you as well? I’m sorry! I didn’t think of that before, I never should have pushed for you to come here!” Frances cried, remembering how Anthony rarely showed the depth of his emotion.

“No, it’s quite all right. As I said, I have hardly any memories of coming here. It’s well past time that I started to create some,” he said fondly, holding out his hand for Frances to take. “Let’s find Mr. Bailey and see what the rest of the house is like.”

With no staff or visitors to see to, Mr. Bailey had set up an office of sorts in the downstairs drawing room. Workers came and went with their instructions while he and his wife sat at makeshift desks.

“Frances!” Juliet cried, putting down the letter she’d been writing and rushing to greet her.

“Juliet, you’re looking well,” Frances said, returning the younger girl’s hug.

“I am. Who would have ever thought that an undertaking such as this one would be so interesting? I’m having the most wonderful time helping Thomas!”

“I literally could never do something like this without her,” Thomas answered, grinning proudly.

“I’m rather astonished at how much you’ve accomplished in such a short time,” Anthony said, still looking around. “I don’t know quite what state it was in, but if it’s anything like your letters described, I cannot think of the proper words to praise your progress.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Thomas said, sounding a little nervous.

“Thomas, we’ll have none of that,” Frances reminded him. “You’re our family, remember? We won’t be standing on ceremony, even if we have employed you.”

“Perhaps when there are others present. I am your steward, after all,” Thomas countered, nodding in the direction of some of the painters who passed by.

“Perhaps that would be all right,” Frances conceded with a smile.

Thomas and Juliet led the way through the first floor of the house where most of the work had already been completed. From there, they traveled up the servants’ stairs to the second floor, the main staircase still being reconstructed. As they traveled through the house room by room, Frances noted how Anthony’s mood shifted. He seemed more relaxed somehow, more at ease than she’d ever seen him. It was as if being out of the city and in a place that was all his own had a soothing effect.

“Mr. Bailey? One o’ the men got a question for ya,” a craftsman said, sticking his head around the corner to call out to him.

Thomas turned to Frances and Anthony with an apologetic shrug. “It happens every hour of the day. I’m sorry, I must leave you to it.”

“That’s perfectly all right. Anthony and I will be quite content exploring on our own,” Frances assured him, thanking them both as Thomas and Juliet returned to their work. She smiled at Anthony eagerly and asked, “Where should we look next?”

“If we can find our way out of this maze of rooms, I know there’s a third floor to see. I don’t know if they’ve gotten to that portion of the house yet, though, so we should watch our steps.”

As they walked on their own, Anthony seemed to recall some of the details of the house. He sighed contentedly as they approached different rooms.

“I do remember this, the upstairs library. Father insisted that the ladders be locked to the walls so that I wouldn’t try to climb up,” he said, laughing softly. “He ordered all of the books that were suited for my young mind to be moved down so I could reach them without having to shimmy up any ladders.”

“He sounds like a wonderful man,” Frances suggested, not wishing to break Anthony’s reverie.

“He was. If I could be half the man he was, I will have more than done my duty.”

“And your mother? Was she as adverse to your dangerous activities as your father?”

Anthony clucked softly. “My mother, saintly woman that she was, became far too busy tending to Abigail to pay me that much mind. Oh, do not misunderstand me, I am not the least bit jealous! And she was not an indifferent mother at all. But keeping my sister from death’s door became an occupation all on its own. There were so many times, especially in Abigail’s early years, where it seemed like it would all be for naught. I think I wasn’t more of an adventurous boy for that very reason—my mother did not need two children to worry about.”

“You were not only selfless, you were wise beyond your years,” Frances replied, feeling a fresh sense of respect for him. “Still, it’s a shame. You are absolutely worth worrying about.”

Anthony ducked his head and smiled shyly. “You have to say that. You’re my wife.”

“On the contrary, too many husbands aren’t deserving of the sentiment. I’m grateful to fate that my husband is.”

They continued on, peering in every room and speculating about who might have stayed there or when. At last, they reached one room whose purpose was unmistakable. A cradle was pushed off to one side, and an immense chair stood near it. Toys still littered the floor, and a rocking horse stood in the center.

“Were these your things?” Frances asked, brightening at the sight of them.

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