Page 11 of The Best-Kept Secrets
The inn in which they’d eaten a filling supper and would be passing the night before resuming their journey struck the perfect balance between cozy and efficient. Had Father not changed the participants in this journey, Duke could have used the quiet and uncomplicated evening to rehearse the conversation he needed to have with his aunt and uncle upon reaching Fairfield. There were so many ways it could go wrong, and he needed to be prepared for all of them.
Instead, addressing Grandmother’s complaints, soothing her ruffled feathers, and shielding Eve and Nia from the bitterness he knew his grandmother was entirely capable of monopolized his time.
“I don’t suppose you could have found an inn in Holyhead that serves a meal more sophisticated than potato and leek stew.” Grandmother hadn’t hidden her disapproval during the meal and still hadn’t tired of the topic as they all sat in the comfortable, private dining room, warming themselves by a low-burning fire in a very simple fireplace.
“Cold weather calls for hot, filling meals,” Duke said as placatingly as he could manage without sounding patronizing. “The stew was a good choice.”
Grandmother was undeterred. “The bread was stale. And the butter crock was only scantily filled. I certainly hope you did not pay anything more than pennies for our stay here, Dubhán. Your father often overpaid for lodging despite my warnings. My children do not always listen to me, though they ought.”
“I have paid a fair price for our lodgings, Grandmother, I assure you.”
She eyed him more narrowly. “And you do know what a fair price would be? Your father has not always been wise in financial matters.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Duke saw Eve and Nia exchange glances. He was accustomed to conversations like this; his parents and grandparents regularly aired their endless grievances to him. But Eve and Nia ought not be subjected to it.
He knew how to stave off Grandmother’s complaints every bit as well as he did his parents’. “You have endured much,” he said to her, “and with impeccable gentility. I find myself reassured that should anything else less than ideal occur during this journey, we can all depend upon your unwavering civility to ease the way.”
Grandmother sat a bit straighter and dipped her head in acknowledgment of the compliment she clearly felt was her due.
In the silence that followed, Duke attempted to turn the conversation. To the O’Doyle sisters, he said, “We will be making an early start in the morning.”
Grandmother spoke before either sister could manage even a syllable in response. “Do you suppose the linens will be overly rough? So long a day of travel will be made far more difficult to endure if we have not slept well.”
“Your abigail arrived ahead of us, and she has, I do not doubt, been working to secure your comfort,” Duke said.
“Weaving the linens her own self, most likely,” Eve said quite seriously.
So many Irish families with aspirations and connections in English Society abandoned their accents. Duke very much liked that the O’Doyles had not. Every syllable spoke of their Irish roots.
Grandmother quickly changed topics. “Will you have your own horses for the journey tomorrow, Dubhán, or are we using a hired team?” Grandmother clearly disliked the second possibility.
“We will be using the Writtlestone team waiting for us here,” Duke said.
“Amatchedteam?” Grandmother pressed.
“They pull well together, but they are not identical.”
Grandmother nodded. “For long journeys, a team’s ability to work together is more important than its appearance.”
“That is very true,” Nia said. “You clearly have an understanding of horses, Mrs. Seymour.”
“I should certainly hope so. I spent much of my adult life at Ballycar in County Wicklow.”
“Ballycar?” Nia was instantly enthralled, and Grandmother, Duke knew, would take up the topic with alacrity. The family’s former estate and the impressive horses that had once been bred there were a subject on which she could—anddid—unabashedly brag.
Duke lowered himself onto the well-maintained sofa, grateful for a moment’s reprieve from his usual task of keeping his grandmother placated. To his surprise, Eve sat next to him.
“You look worn to a thread, Duke,” she said quietly. “Are you worried your linens will be unbearably rough?”
“It is all I can think about.”
She grinned at his dry response. Not everyone recognized his humor, but she had from their first introduction. It was one of the things about her that he’d been intrigued by during the house party the previous year. She was clever and funny, intelligent and kind. And beautiful.
“You’ve finished at Cambridge,” she said, pulling him back to the moment.
He nodded. “Only just.”
“What did you study?”
