Page 29 of His Darling Duchess
“My cousin doesn’t have any right to tell me to do anything!” Enraged, Grantleigh slammed his hand down on his desk.
Hale just stared at him. “Stowe is a duke,” he said, slowly and patiently, as though speaking to a very young child. “The head of your family. If he so chooses, your world will be circumscribed by the boundaries of this estate, by these four walls. Your opportunities for companionship will be limited solely to those in your employ.”
“Nonsense,” Grantleigh said, but he was beginning to feel a niggling doubt. “What possible reason could he have for such extreme measures?”
Hale actually had the audacity to roll his eyes. “I understand the new duchess has expressed a desire never to lay eyes on you again. One word from her and you’ll be ostracised by polite society. Do you understand that, at least?”
“Of course I understand!” Fuming, Grantleigh threw himself back into his chair. “Very well,” he muttered. “I’ll wait here until my cousin deigns to visit.” He waved a dismissive hand. “I’m sure the housekeeper can find you a bed.”
“Your graciousness overwhelms me, my lord,” Hale said facetiously, not bothering to bow before he left the room.
Grantleigh ignored the man’s rudeness. He fully intended to ignore Hale’s very presence, insult that it was, until Stowe arrived and Grantleigh could explain this nonsense as the ridiculous overreaction it clearly was. He looked back down at the sheet of newsprint crumpled on his desk, unable to believe it; what on earth had possessed Stowe to marry Aurelia?
And just like that, Grantleigh knew exactly what had got into his cousin. Stowe had taken one look at Aurelia and recognised what Grantleigh had known for years; she was as perfect a wife as a man could reasonably want. Beautiful, biddable, and very richly dowered, it would be no hardship to father an heir or two on her, and she was well-trained as a political hostess too. Stowehad merely seized the opportunity created when he accidentally interrupted Grantleigh trying to cement his own claim to the diamond.
“That bastard.” Grantleigh’s hand crushed the newsprint and he flung it into the fire, seething with rage. Stowe’s time in the army slumming it with the common men had clearly honed his thieving instincts. He’d wasted no time stealing Aurelia right out from under Grantleigh’s nose, and Lord Lymsey would undoubtedly have been delighted - Stowe was a duke, after all. No, Lymsey had traded up for his daughter without a second thought as to what she wanted. Stowe would make Aurelia miserable with his crude ways; what idea would he have how to please a true lady like her? It would be laughable if it wasn’t Grantleigh whose future now lay in ruins.
Casting himself back into his chair, he scowled into the flames, trying to think of a way out of his present predicament.
If only Stowe hadn’t come back from the war! Grantleigh was next in line for the dukedom, after all.
As the thought sank in, Grantleigh suddenly sat bolt upright, before a slow smile dawned across his face.
Maybe, just maybe, there was still a way for him to get everything he’d ever wanted… and Aurelia too.
The dinner Mrs. Bretton set before them was delicious, and Aurelia was determined to appreciate it and show the housekeeper proper respect for her efforts, but it had been a long day and she was very tired. Her eyes seemed determined to drift closed despite her valiant efforts to keep them open.
“Aurelia,” Stowe’s voice said, close to her ear, and she blinked, realising her eyes had closed all by themselves once again. Her head had nodded low, too, and she had to straighten her neck to look around at him.
“Rhys,” she said faintly. “I do apologise…”
“Don’t. I should have had your maids bring you a tray, you’re all done in. Come.”
Accepting the hand he offered, she let him help her to her feet, but once she was upright, she couldn’t seem to make her feet move. Stowe muttered something under his breath before his arms went around her.
“I’m going to carry you up to your room.”
“All right,” she acquiesced, and it just felt so natural to rest her head against his broad shoulder and close her eyes, trusting herself to him entirely.
He carried her easily, with no signs of strain, all the way up the stairs and to the charmingly appointed suite where her maids were preparing her bed with a warming-pan. They immediately rushed to make a fuss of her, clucking with concern.
“Her Grace is over-tired,” Stowe said gruffly. He didn’t set Aurelia on her feet as she expected, though, instead crossing to the bed and laying her down upon it gently. She opened her eyes and peered blearily up at him, noting the concern on his face.
“Don’t worry about me,” she felt compelled to reassure him. “I’m not unwell.”
“If you are, we’ll tarry here a day or so until you feel better.”
Startled, she forced her eyes a little wider. “No, surely not.”
“I will not risk your health.” He touched her cheek lightly, just the softest brush of his fingers. “Though I will let you make that determination; if you are well enough to travel on in the morning, we shall do so, only know there is no requirement for us to do so tomorrow.”
His consideration for her comfort almost brought Aurelia to tears, in her weakened state. She squeezed her eyes closed and groped for where his hand still rested lightly against her cheek.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Rest.” He squeezed her fingers gently before removing his hand. She felt the loss immediately, shivering as cold and exhaustion overwhelmed her. “Take care of her,” she heard Stowe’s low-voiced order to the maids as they hurried to her side. “If she is unwell in the night, knock on my door; I’ll go for the doctor.”
“No doctor,” Aurelia mumbled into the pillow.
