Page 40 of His Darling Duchess
“I will,” he promised, his eyes intense. “I’ll return to you as soon as I can.”
Aurelia had wanted to beg him to stay, but she knew it was futile. Rhys was a man of his word, and he would not rest until he had settled his score with Grantleigh. She had watched him leave, her heart heavy with worry and a gnawing sense of loneliness.
Now as she lay alone in the Duchess's bed, she couldn't shake the feeling that Rhys might not come back to her at all. The uncertainty gnawed at her, keeping her awake long into the night.
Chapter Seventeen
Aurelia awoke to thegentle patter of snowflakes against the frosted windowpane, the world outside her chamber swathed in a sheet of pristine white. The hush that accompanied the freshly fallen snow filled the room, lending an air of tranquility to the crisp morning.
She hesitated for a moment then summoned the courage to rise from the soft embrace of her bed, drawing the heavy curtains aside. The sight of the snow-covered grounds stirred something within her, a yearning for days long past when life was simpler, and happiness seemed within grasp.
The day prior had been emotionally taxing; her parents' departure weighed heavily upon her heart. Their disapproval of Rhys still lingered like a bitter aftertaste. She could not help but ponder if their absence would serve as an insurmountable barrier between her and the man who occupied her every thought. Nevertheless, she refused to let despair taint thismoment of respite, for the serenity of winter's embrace granted her a semblance of peace.
"Your Grace," called the voice of her ever-faithful maid, Sarah, from beyond the door. "I have brought you some tea."
"Thank you, Sarah," Aurelia replied, wrapping herself in her dressing gown. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for the solitary day ahead. “Now that my parents and sisters have departed, I need to resume my work about the estate. Have all the leftovers from the Christmas celebrations been boxed up and distributed?”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Sarah’s capable hands were in her hair, undoing her night-time braid and brushing out the thick length, preparatory to pinning it up. “Mrs Henley asked me to tell you that she’ll be ready after breakfast to go through the guest suites with you and take notes on the redecorating you want to begin.”
Aurelia smiled a little ruefully. “I don’t think there’s so very much wrong with the guest suites,” she confided, “but my mother disagreed.”
“Well, they do say that nothing’s been changed since Stowe Park was first built forty years ago, by the last Duke. The dowager duchess as was, then - the current duke’s grandmother - was the one who chose all the papers and fabrics, so even though they were of the highest quality…” Sarah shrugged.
“They’re all terribly out of date now,” Aurelia agreed. “That’s interesting, that it was the duke’s grandmother who chose the furnishings. Stowe did say his father built this place almost as soon as he inherited the dukedom, abandoning the old castle.”
“That old place!” Sarah shuddered. “It looks like something out of a Gothic novel, and no mistake, Your Grace; I’m right glad the family don’t live there still!”
Aurelia chuckled at her maid’s reaction. “Yes, I’ve heard it’s quite a dismal place. But it does have its charms, I suppose.”
“I should hope not, Your Grace,” Sarah said with a teasing smile as she pinned Aurelia’s hair up. “Unless you’re planning on turning to the dark arts, like one of those heroines in Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels.”
Aurelia laughed again, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. Sarah was good at easing her worries, even if only for a moment. “No, I think I’ll stick to redecorating Stowe Park for now. That will be plenty to keep me occupied.”
As Sarah finished her task, Aurelia sipped her tea and watched the snowfall outside. Eyes unfocussed, half-daydreaming, it took her a few minutes to recognise the shape slowly solidifying amid the whirling flakes as a rider on horseback approaching the house.
"Rhys," she breathed, coming to her feet, leaning closer to the window.
"Beg pardon, Your Grace?" Sarah came back into the room, a dress draped across her arms.
"It's Stowe, Sarah!" Aurelia was certain now; the great black horse was certainly Brutus, and though the figure on his back was well wrapped up in a cloak, surely nobody else would be riding her husband's warhorse. "Quickly, help me on with my gown; I must run downstairs to meet him!"
Sarah hurriedly assisted Aurelia with her dressing, the excitement in the room palpable. Aurelia's heart raced as she anticipated seeing Rhys once again. The joy of his arrival was tempered by the knowledge that her parents' disapproval still hung over them like a dark cloud.
Aurelia rushed down the grand staircase, her heart pounding with anticipation. Ross the butler had the doors open and a footman was hurrying down the steps. She could see Rhys dismounting from Brutus, his tall figure obscured by the cloak he wore.
Aurelia rushed straight past Ross, who gasped and tried to reach for her, to prevent her going out into the snow without so much as a cloak on. She didn't care, ducking under his arm and hurrying to her husband.
As she drew nearer, Rhys looked up and removed his hood, revealing his ruggedly handsome face and a lopsided grin that made her heart skip a beat.
"Aurelia," he said, his voice low and husky. "The sight of you warms my heart."
Aurelia felt warmth spread through her body at the sound of his words. She ran into his arms and he enveloped her in them, pressing his face into her hair.
"You are frozen!" she cried in horror as his cold cheek touched her brow. "Come inside, quickly!"
"I am better dressed for the weather than you," he said with a small chuckle, but allowed her to grab his hand and tug him up the steps as the footman led Brutus away to the stables.
His valet was waiting in the hall, and helped Rhys to remove his damp cloak and peel his gloves off. Harris looked pointedly at his boots too, but Rhys shook his head. Right now, all he wanted was a few minutes with his wife, to revel in her obvious joy at seeing him. Her mood would sour soon enough, for he had no good news to share with her.
