Page 27 of His Darling Duchess
“Are you cold?” Rhys thought the room was pleasantly warm, but then he was wearing a coat and waistcoat over his shirt and breeches.
“I grew a little chilled over the last hour,” Aurelia admitted.
Concerned, he took her hands in his. They weren’t as cold as he’d feared, but they were decidedly chilly, and he chafed them between his own, shaking his head. “You should have said something. There were more blankets under the coach seats, or we could have stopped.”
“But then we should not have arrived here until after dark,” she pointed out logically. “I am quite well, I assure you. I didn’t even notice I felt cold until after we disembarked the coach.”
“Let me put another log on the fire, and drag a chair close for you. You should put your cloak back on.”
Her laugh stopped him, soft and silvery. “Rhys, stop worrying! I’m warming up quickly before this lovely fire. A cup of hot tea will soon see me set perfectly to rights, and here comes Mrs. Bretton now.”
“I’ve made some scones, and a fruit cake too, milady, to have with your tea,” the housekeeper said, setting a tray down.
“Oh, delicious! Fruit cake is quite my favourite. I see why my husband speaks so highly of you, Mrs. Bretton.” Aurelia beamed, and Rhys saw the exact moment the other woman fell under her spell.
Aurelia had a remarkable way of putting people at ease, Rhys thought. Despite her ethereal beauty and the obvious quality of her clothes, she did not act proud and aloof as he’d seen many fine ladies do in London. Some of them wouldn’t even have deigned to acknowledge the housekeeper beyond a nod and a brusque command. A few words and a smile, and Aurelia had the older woman eating out of her hand.
Aurelia waited until Mrs. Bretton had left the room before looking up at Rhys. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know how you like your tea. I didn’t want her to know that I don’t even know how my husband likes his tea prepared.”
She looked more upset admitting her ignorance in the matter than she had when talking about Grantleigh’s assault on her earlier. Rhys shook his head, refusing to allow her to feel bad. “How should you know? As it happens, I will drink tea in any way you might think to prepare it; the army afforded few luxuries, so we settled for whatever we could get.”
“Yes, but how do you like it?” Aurelia persisted. “I do want to learn your likes and dislikes. How shall I ensure your household is run to please you if I don’t?” She lowered her eyes. “Unless you would rather I left that to your staff.”
“I would rather you run it to please you, or leave my staff to do it if you would prefer that,” Rhys disclaimed. Taking a seat opposite her, he studied her downcast eyes, the way she chewed on her lower lip. “If offered the choice, I like lemon in my tea,” he offered, saw her relieved little smile. She’s so eager to please. I don’t deserve her. “I’m serious, you know. You don’t need to make efforts to please me. I have simple tastes. A warm meal in my belly and a roof over my head will suffice.”
“Then I think there is not another duke like you in all the world,” Aurelia said, offering a teacup.
“No doubt there are a great many men who would do a much better job of it, but unfortunately, the people of Stowe are stuck with me, so I just have to do the best I can. At least, I’m sure I’ve managed to do one thing far better than I ever expected for them.”
“What’s that?” Aurelia took a sip of tea and cocked her head inquiringly.
“I somehow found them the most magnificent duchess they could possibly ever wish for.”
She laughed, and he felt that tug at the corner of his lips again, the one he kept feeling in her presence. He wasn’t sure he’d ever known how to smile; if he had, his father had beaten the ability out of him when he was small, but Aurelia made him want to try.
A clatter of hooves and wheels outside made him rise to his feet, nodding when he spied through the window the second coach arriving. “Here are Harris and your maids. I’ve no doubt Mrs. Bretton will have a very comfortable room prepared for you, and water warming for a bath.”
“That sounds blissful. You are very considerate of my comfort, Stowe. Thank you.”
Turning to look at her, sitting by the fire with her golden hair shining like a halo around her face, he thought how angelic she looked. “I have little experience of dealing with fine ladies,” he admitted gruffly. “If there is anything you require for your comfort, even something you have a whim to possess, you need only name it and it will be yours.”
She set down her cup and rose to her feet, graceful as water flowing as she walked to his side and laid her hand on his arm, her face turned up to his. “You are very good to me,” she said softly. “I know I am not the wife you might have chosen, but…”
He shook his head immediately, cutting her off. “You are everything I might possibly have aspired to find in a wife, and more. I do not deserve you, and I am getting much the best of this bargain, of that I am well aware.”
Aurelia tilted her head, a curious expression on his face. “Do you think so? I see it quite differently.”
He had no opportunity to ask what she meant, because Mrs. Bretton knocked at the door again, Aurelia’s maids waiting at her shoulder to escort their mistress upstairs, and Rhys could hardly keep her from the comfort of her bath. She must mean that I’m a duke, but I know there was more than one in the running for her hand. Or perhaps she’s just relieved I offered her an alternative than being forced into marrying Grantleigh.
Thinking of his cousin, his hands clenched into fists. He still didn’t know exactly what he was going to do about his cousin; even if arresting a peer wasn’t nigh on impossible, Grantleigh’s actions wouldn’t be considered criminal anyway. Certainly, other lords were more likely to snicker behind their hands rather than convict him of any wrong-doing for luring a debutante into a library and tearing her gown. If duelling weren’t illegal, Rhys would have no compunction in calling Grantleigh out and shooting him dead for the insult to Aurelia’s honour, but he’d promised Lord Lymsey he wouldn’t do any such thing.
Staring out at the sky, almost entirely dark now, Rhys drank the last of his tea and sighed to himself. Convincing Grantleigh to leave the country was his best option, but it all depended on Grantleigh believing Rhys would fight a duel with him. Rhys dearly wished he knew where his cousin was, and what he was thinking; what had possessed Grantleigh to attack Aurelia in the first place?
“None of it makes any sense,” Rhys muttered aloud.
“Beg pardon, Your Grace?”
He hadn’t seen the housekeeper re-enter the room, jumped a little. “Nothing, Mrs. Bretton. I’m tired, that’s all.”
