Page 24 of His Darling Duchess
The candles extinguished, the maid moved quietly about the room for a minute or two picking up discarded items before placing a screen in front of the fire and departing. Aurelia lay on her side for a long time, gazing at the flames dancing lower and lower, until finally her eyelids drooped from sheer exhaustion and she slept.
She did not hear the door connecting to the duke’s suite open quietly, was entirely unaware of Stowe padding into her room, bare feet making no sound on the thickly carpeted floor.
He’d been unable to sleep, lying in bed wondering what Aurelia was doing, whether she was sleeping. Whether she found her bed comfortable, if her maids were taking care of her properly, did she have everything she needed? Was she homesick for her family after their visit, wishing she’d never accepted his proposal?
He was making excuses to go look in on her, he quite recognised that, but eventually he also accepted sleep would not come until he’d assured himself that his wife wasn’t sobbing into her pillow.
Aurelia looked like an angel as she slept. Rhys stood by the bed, looking down at her peaceful face in the faint orange light from the dying fire. Gently, he touched the tip of one finger to the thick golden braid lying on the pillow beside her head, before retreating as silently as he’d come.
His duchess would be just fine, but he was going to have to face up to the unpalatable truth that he was entirely incapable of rational thought where she was concerned.
Back in his own bedroom, Rhys considered the decanter of brandy on the mantel, and just as quickly dismissed the thought. He’d drunk himself to sleep a time or two after battles, when the screams of the injured and dying haunted him, and the meagre, restless sleep which came from it wasn’t worth the sore head and sick stomach in the morning.
With a resigned sigh, he lit some more candles and picked up a book from a stack beside the bed. Perhaps a few chapters of a rather dry treatise on cattle breeding would do the trick.
“Late night, sir?”
“Ah!” Rhys flailed awake, the book falling from the bed to the floor with a thump. He’d fallen asleep sitting up, he realised as his back protested the sudden movement. Stiff all over, he scowled at Harris. “Are you enjoying making me suffer in the mornings?”
“Civilian life is making you soft, sir.”
Getting to his feet, Rhys determinedly suppressed the groan which threatened to escape. “Soft, is it? Maybe we should find a ring and go a few rounds.”
“You may have gone soft, but I haven’t turned stupid.”
“That remains to be seen.”
Harris laughed at his grumpiness. “I don’t think marriage agrees with you, sir.”
Bending to pick up the fallen book, Rhys considered heaving it at his insolent valet, but set it on the table beside the bed instead. “Is all in readiness for our travels?” Tilting his head first to the left, then the right, he grunted as a loud crack sounded.
“Of course.” Harris sounded almost insulted. “Her ladyship’s maids are with her now, and the carriage will be brought around in half an hour.” He gestured to a side table where a pot of coffee steamed gently and a plate laden with pastries was calling Rhys’s name. “Breakfast?”
“And once again, you remind me why I employ you.”
Harris smirked as Rhys moved across to pick up the clean clothes Harris had laid out for him. “You don’t know the half of what I do, sir.”
“I daresay I don’t want to, either.” Rhys gave his valet a wry glance, pulling on his breeches. “Perhaps I shall just say a thank for for unspecified services rendered?”
“You’re very welcome, sir. Shall I tie your cravat now?”
Rhys grimaced. “Let me have my coffee first, please. We’ll do that last.” He missed being able to dress himself most of all from his military days; his high-collared coat had made it possible to have the simplest of knots in his neckcloth and nobody would notice. Harris had thrown himself into learning to tie complex cravats with great enthusiasm. The only thing Rhys was grateful for was that Harris had learned to be fast.
“Very nice, sir,” Harris approved the final result a few minutes later. Rhys didn’t even glance in the mirror, just gulped the last of his coffee down and headed for the door. He’d heard footsteps in the hallway outside a few moments earlier, presumably indicating Aurelia was already on her way downstairs, and he certainly didn’t want to make her wait around for him.
Harris would be following in a second carriage, along with several other senior servants from the house. Other men had already gone ahead, taking changes of horses to various inns along the route so they could travel fast. Stowe Park was in the western part of Berkshire, some sixty miles from London, a distance Rhys hoped to traverse in just two days. They would overnight at a house he owned in Maidenhead, a house his father had apparently bought for the sole reason that he didn’t want to stay in coaching inns and had no friends who lived along the route he might impose upon for a bed for the night.
Rhys was fairly sure his father hadn’t had any friends anywhere, as it happened, and though Rhys had friends who lived along the route to Stowe Park, they were all former soldiers he’d served with, and only a few were married and in a situation to possibly receive a married couple as guests. Of those, none owned anything larger than a cottage, and he didn’t think it was really appropriate to ask Aurelia to spend their third night of married life in a tiny farmer’s cottage. She had, after all, been raised the daughter of a wealthy earl.
“Good morning!”
Every time he saw her, he was struck afresh by her beauty. Even in a simply tailored travelling gown, a thick blue wool cloak wrapped around her and a bonnet covering most of her hair and shading her face, Aurelia was still the most radiantly beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her smile made him feel warm all over.
“Good morning,” he mumbled in return, belatedly realising he should speak rather than just stare at her dumbfounded.
Aurelia’s smile dimmed a little, and she didn’t speak again, turning to walk to the front door as the butler opened it for them. The coach was just coming to a halt outside, footmen hurrying to let down the step and hand Aurelia up into the carriage.
Rhys cursed under his breath; he should be the one doing that. With ill grace, he followed, settling into the seat opposite her.
