Page 33 of His Darling Duchess
“Stowe Park is everything anyone could possibly want in a house,” Rhys agreed. “It is the house’s master who fails to live up to her magnificence.”
“Nonsense,” Aurelia disagreed, in a such a matter-of-fact tone Rhys blinked. “I was only thinking in the carriage how, although we have only known each other for a matter of a few days and our marriage cannot have been what you hoped for, you have treated me with the utmost courtesy and respect. You have acted far more the gentleman than most I met in London.”
“I… what?” Startled, he could not formulate a proper question, and she reached up to place her other hand atop his.
“I could not possibly have wished for more in a house, or a husband, and you must immediately stop thinking of yourself as in any way unworthy.”
“As my lady commands,” was all he could think to say, gazing down into her soft brown eyes.
Her soft laugh rang out. “Very good, Rhys. Do exactly as I say and we shall get along perfectly.”
Her eyes were twinkling with mirth, and he could only enjoy the sound of his name on her lips and think how very beautiful she was. He could not quite, in that moment, imagine anything she might tell him to do which he would not move the heavens to see done at once.
Aurelia’s laughter died away, and she gazed up at him in silence, her lips slightly parted. He was staring, Rhys realised, but he could not seem to stop, and she tilted her head a little to one side as though wondering why he gazed so intently.
I want to kiss her.
As though she divined his thought, she licked her lips, before a maidenly blush began to rise up her cheeks and she looked shyly away.
“Aurelia,” he began, not even sure what he was going to say, but whatever idiocy he was about to blurt out was mercifully cut off by a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Aurelia called, taking her hands from his arm and stepping away, and two maids came in with a tea-tray and another laden with cakes and biscuits, a veritable feast of delicacies to welcome Stowe Park’s new mistress to her home.
At least my staff know what to do in the situation, Rhys thought with a silent sigh as he listened to Aurelia expressing her delight in the spread. I am just an ignorant dolt without the faintest idea what to do with a wife, much less one I haven’t even had the chance to get to know before wedding her!
Chapter Fourteen
Aurelia’s first day atStowe Park dawned late, and bitterly cold. Frost traced thick white patterns on the panes of her bedroom windows as she sat beside them in state on a magnificently upholstered armchair and sipped the hot chocolate one of her maids had brought with her breakfast of freshly baked rolls and fruit preserves.
Movement in the distance caught her eye and she leaned closer to the window, peering through the frosty glass to make out the unmistakable figure of her husband, tall and upright on the handsome warhorse who had travelled with them from London.
“His Grace left a message that he was going to visit one of the tenant farmers this morning, my lady,” her maid Sarah advised. “And Mrs. Henley says please to call for her when you’re ready as she is at your disposal.”
“Undoubtedly,” Aurelia said, quite sure Stowe would have instructed the servants to see that her slightest whim wascatered to. “Well, I shall not keep her waiting. The russet wool, if you please, Sarah, and my brown half-boots? This is a big house. If I am to explore it, I shall want comfortable shoes on my feet!” And, she thought privately, the russet wool is my best morning gown. While it was perhaps not quite grand enough for a duchess to receive guests, it would do very nicely to tour her new home in the company of her new housekeeper.
Mrs. Henley appeared so quickly after Aurelia finished dressing that Aurelia was fairly certain the housekeeper had been lurking outside the door awaiting her summons.
“Good morning, Your Grace.” The housekeeper curtsied respectfully. “I hope you’ve found everything to your satisfaction thus far?”
“More than satisfactory, Mrs. Henley, and please, no need for such formality. I hope you and I will work very closely together and it will become very wearying to be called your grace all the time, especially when you will no doubt see me at my least graceful.” Aurelia smiled warmly, inviting the stern-faced housekeeper to share the joke.
Mrs. Henley cracked a small smile in response, but Aurelia thought it was genuine. “As you wish… my lady?”
“That will do nicely,” Aurelia approved. “Now, I have no doubt you are exceptionally busy and I don’t want to take you away from your work, so if you don’t mind, I should simply like to follow you about for a while. Learn the ways of the Park by observing the one who knows it most intimately, if you will.”
“Why, of course, my lady, if that’s what you’d like. I’d set aside the day, but… well, the wine delivery did just come in, and then there’s just a few days left until Christmas.” The housekeeper looked down at her hands before raising her gaze to meet Aurelia’s eyes. “We weren’t sure what to do. The old duke, he didn’t permit any celebrations at Christmastime, and His Grace hasn’t given any orders.”
“No celebrations?” Aurelia blinked, certain she must have misheard.
“None at all,” Mrs. Henley confirmed. “Wouldn’t even permit the servants to have a special dinner.”
“Well, that’s just wrong, and I assure you this year will be very different.” Aurelia hesitated only a moment, wondering if Stowe would mind, but he had explicitly told her she might do whatever she wished in the household. He’d also been clear about despising his father, so changing something his father had done would please him. She hoped. “Let us begin by discussing what extra supplies should be ordered in for the kitchen. I hope the cooks will have enough time to prepare plum puddings; I admit to a great fondness for them, and for mince pies.”
“Oh yes, my lady, mince pies are always a favourite. Shall you wish for turkey on Christmas Day, or a roasted goose? I’ll let the gamekeeper know what to provide.”
“Both,” Aurelia said, mindful that the vast majority of the meat would go to the servants anyway. “And in addition to the plum pudding, would you give this receipt to Cook and ask him to prepare it on Christmas Day? Mrs. Bretton, the housekeeper at the house in Maidenhead, gave it to me. Apparently, it is one of my lord’s particular favourites.”
“Of course, my lady. A Welsh pudding? I haven’t tasted that in many a year.” Mrs. Henley read the receipt over quickly, nodding. “I’ll pass it on to Cook.”
