Page 11 of His Scottish Duchess

The Lennox residence had always been filled with laughter and warmth, her siblings’ playful banter echoing through the halls. In contrast, Rosehall felt cold, its grandeur overshadowed by an oppressive silence.

“This is the main drawing room,” Mrs. Starling announced, her tone clipped.

The room was appointed with ornate furniture and adorned with rich fabrics, yet it lacked the coziness Catherine associated with such spaces.

“It’s… lovely,” she offered, though the word felt hollow.

She could almost hear her younger brother’s laughter and see her sisters gathered by the hearth, their faces illuminated by the fire’s glow.

She believed that what the estate lacked was signs of life. It was strange to have a house so big but containing so few people. She did not understand why the interior felt so cold and hollow.

Mrs. Starling’s demeanor was as cold as the house. She spoke in a clipped tone, detailing Catherine’s duties with a hint of disapproval. She was very unlike the housekeeper at her old home, Agnes.

Agnes was not just a servant; she was a part of the family. She existed in their lives as a warm, maternal figure who had practically raised Catherine and her siblings. She had been a confidante, a storyteller, and a gentle disciplinarian, her presence a constant source of comfort and stability.

Catherine was unsure that she could rely on Mrs. Starling the way she had been able to do with Agnes, but she was determined to do all she could not to disappoint her new housekeeper.

Mrs. Starling’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Your duties, Your Grace, include overseeing the staff, managing the estate’s affairs, and organizing social events befitting your station. There are other tasks that the Duke might assign to you, but since we are not sure what they will be, I shall leave it up to him to bring them up to you when the time comes.”

Catherine nodded, trying to absorb the information. “I understand. I will do my best to ensure that every task I am given is fulfilled properly.” She paused, hesitating for a moment before she added, “And I hope to add my personal touch to the décor, to make it feel more like a home.”

She felt slightly overwhelmed by the sheer scale of her new responsibilities, trying not to show that she felt uncertain of her abilities under the weight of a dukedom pressing down on her shoulders.

A flicker of disapproval crossed Mrs. Starling’s face. “Of course, Your Grace. However, the Duke has specific preferences, particularly regarding certain rooms.”

They entered a corridor lined with doors, each marked with a brass plaque. As they continued the tour, Catherine noticed that many of the rooms had a recurring theme. Crimson drapes, plush red carpets, and an abundance of settees positioned at odd angles.

“These rooms,” she began, hesitating. “They seem… uniform in their design.”

Mrs. Starling’s lips pressed into a thin line. “The Duke requested these arrangements, Your Grace. He often entertains… special guests and requires appropriate settings.”

Heat rushed to Catherine’s cheeks as the implication sank in. She averted her gaze, focusing on the intricate patterns in the carpet. “I see.”

The remainder of the tour passed in a blur. Each room, though lavishly decorated, felt devoid of life. Catherine’s heart ached for the familiar chaos of her family home—the impromptu musical sessions, the shared stories, the palpable sense of belonging.

As they concluded the tour, Mrs. Starling handed her a ledger. “This contains the household accounts, schedules, and inventories. It’s imperative you familiarize yourself with them.”

Catherine accepted the heavy book, its weight a tangible reminder of her new role. “Thank you, Mrs. Starling. I’ll review it thoroughly.”

With a curt nod, the housekeeper departed, leaving Catherine alone in the vastness of the library, where the tour had concluded. She sank into a leather armchair, the ledger resting on her lap, and allowed herself a moment to grieve the life she’d left behind.

Eventually, she grew bored of the numbers and letters in the ledger and began to crave a change of scenery.

“It is a lovely day,” she noted, peering out of the window. “Perhaps a walk in the garden would be nice.”

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the estate as she wandered through the gardens, seeking solace among the meticulously trimmed hedges and vibrant blooms. The scent of roses filled the air, reminding her of the wildflowers that grew abundantly in the meadows near her childhood home.

“I have to stay. I have to do my best. I know it looks trying and difficult, but I must not falter or give up. I must do my best for my family,” Catherine stated with deep conviction, needing to remind herself why she was here and what her efforts were for.

She would not give her husband any reason to believe she wasn’t worth the choice he had made to marry her.

Lost in thought, she was startled by the appearance of Mr. Oswald, who was standing behind her when she turned around. He gave her an apologetic look, clearly aware that he had startled her.

“Forgive me, Your Grace. I did not mean to frighten you,” he said earnestly, his gentleness making her feel a little more at ease.

“It is quite all right, Oswald. What can I do for you?”

“The Duke requests your presence in his study this evening.”

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