Page 16 of His Darling Duchess
Aurelia glanced back downas she ascended the sweeping marble staircase, one hand on the polished brass hand rail for balance. Stowe’s gaze was fixed on her, and he was frowning. Did he disapprove of the way I took time to speak with all the servants?
She would not be sorry for doing it, not even if the price was her new husband’s displeasure. Plenty of aristocrats never even seemed to notice those who worked for them, but Aurelia had been raised to be very aware that servants were people, with families and feelings. Both her parents were firm advocates for paying good wages and treating their servants well, and Lady Lymsey insisted the loyalty they received in return was more than worth the expense.
Following the housekeeper along a wide corridor lined with artwork, Aurelia slowed her pace to look at the paintings, wondering who had chosen them. Not the current duke, surely; they looked to have been hanging in place for a long time. Darkand depressing hunting and battle scenes for the most part, interspersed with the occasional portrait of an extremely ill-proportioned horse.
Spotting her observations, Mrs Tanwell paused. “The previous master was a great collector of art,” she observed, her tone neutral.
“I see,” Aurelia replied, looking at the ornate gilt rococo frames on most of the pictures. “I daresay they are quite trying to keep well dusted.”
One of the maids trailing behind them snickered, hand flying up to cover her mouth at once, her eyes wide with horror at her own daring.
Mrs Tanwell eyed Aurelia in silence for a moment before saying “You’re quite right, my lady, but the household has plenty of staff to take care of such matters.”
“Undoubtedly, since I see not a single speck of dust.” Aurelia acknowledged the housekeeper with a nod of her head, and the older woman smiled back, obviously gratified by her notice. “I must say I don’t particularly care for the subject matter, though. Dead birds in particular have never been a favourite of mine.” She wrinkled her nose at a painting of a pair of hanging pheasants.
“As it happens, the previous master didn’t care much for these particular paintings himself. He never came to London, you see, and kept all his favourites at Stowe Park. I understand there are some very fine pieces by Stubbs there, among others.”
Storing the information away, Aurelia gestured to Mrs Tanwell to continue, and soon they reached the end of the corridor. With a door on each side, Mrs Tanwell indicated the door on the right without opening it.
“His Grace’s chamber, my lady. And on this side is your bedchamber.” She opened the door on the left.
Aurelia looked around as she drew off her gloves. While there was a fire crackling in the grate, it was the only cheerful thing about the room, papered in a dark-red wallpaper with a dull gold print. The bed was a massive thing, a four-poster of aged, almost black oak with brocade hangings of a similar dark red to the wallpaper. Curtains in the same fabric half-obscured the tall, narrow windows and added to the room’s overall gloomy effect.
Mrs Tanwell and the maids were bustling about lighting even more candles to add to the several already lit, and Aurelia held up her hand to stop them.
“Please, don’t. I do feel fatigued and would like to lie down for a while.”
“Of course, my lady!” Mrs Tanwell clucked, shaking her head. “I do beg your pardon. Ah, you didn’t bring a maid with you from Lymsey House?”
She hadn’t, preferring to leave the dour Mary behind. She’d choose herself a new maid, at least if her husband permitted it.
“Lottie and Emma are well-trained, if you will permit them to attend you?” Mrs Tanwell indicated the two maids, who both curtsied deferentially. “All your things were sent over from Lymsey House yesterday and have been put away in your dressing-room.”
Aurelia was honestly too tired to care, but she thanked the housekeeper and indicated her satisfaction with the maids assigned to her. They were quiet and efficient as they helped her change into a nightgown and robe and took out the pins holding her hair atop her head. She let out a quiet little groan of relief as the heavy mass toppled down to flow around her shoulders.
Stowe frowned as he saw the door to the duchess’s room was open, and paused outside to glance in, expecting to find someone just leaving, though he’d have thought the servants would all use the servants’ door in the dressing-room, from which a narrow flight of stairs led down to the kitchen. Perhaps Mrs Tanwell had duties elsewhere upstairs, though?
The housekeeper was not in sight, but he certainly got quite an eyeful of his new wife. Sitting on a stool before the dressing-table wearing a white gown and robe, her golden hair streaming about her, she was a creature of light in a room full of darkness. Standing in the shadows of the corridor, Stowe swallowed.
He’d promised Aurelia he wouldn’t touch her until she was ready, but looking on her was enough to tempt him even when she was fully dressed. The sight of her preparing for bed made him want to walk in and dismiss her maids before taking what the law said was his by right.
To take even a single step closer would be to abandon all honour, though, and he would not break his promise and whatever small amount of trust Aurelia might have in him. As quietly as he could, he opened the door to his own room and stepped through it, dragging his eyes reluctantly from his beautiful wife.
Sleep would be a long time coming, if he found it at all. His valet Harris looked at him enquiringly when he waved the man away and paced the room.
“Will you be preparing to join her ladyship, my lord?” Harris ventured after several minutes of silence broken only by the rhythmic thud of Stowe’s boots.
“No.” He didn’t need to explain himself, but he did anyway, hoping the valet would ensure the other servants didn’t gossip. “She doesn’t know me. It would be cruel.”
“That’s right considerate of you, my lord.” Harris gave him an approving nod. “What of the sheets, though?”
“Christ.” He hadn’t even thought of that. The sheets would certainly be inspected in the morning, and an absence of blood would give rise to gossip which could further damage Aurelia’s reputation.
“If you’ll allow my assistance, my lord, I’m sure I could procure some chicken blood, perhaps?” Harris suggested. “You could explain to her ladyship the necessity…”
Aurelia would understand, he knew, but explaining it to her wasn’t a prospect he relished. “Help me out of this suit,” he said finally, “and go find a chicken or something. I’ll explain to her ladyship, once the maids are gone.”
“Very good, my lord.” Harris was quite unflappable, and Stowe couldn’t help but wonder if the valet had ever had to hunt down a chicken in the dead of night to source some blood to fake an aristocratic bride’s loss of virginity before.
