Page 2 of Beauty and the Rake
“I have no plan to marry a woman who may be over ten years younger, let alone one with no worldly experience. One of my priorities is for my wife to be able to carry on a conversation about more than just the weather or puppies and kittens.”
“I see your predicament. I’m sure there is someone out there you’ve yet to meet that is your perfect mate.”
Jameson House came into view as the carriage slowed before coming to a stop. It was a magnificent sight to behold. The brick mansion rose four stories; a dual staircase descended from either side of the front door. Roxanne never thought she’d be so happy to see the house as she was at this moment.
“I had your rooms readied,” he said. Arthur linked her arm through his and they began up the stairs to the front door. The long-time family butler, Wilson, stood waiting, door open.
“You’ve thought of everything. Thank you.”
They were in the grand hall and Arthur gestured to the staircase. “I’m sure you would like to freshen up from your journey. I’ll be in my study. Come join me when you’re ready.”
“I will.”
She turned and walked across the room to the stairs. For the first time in years, she felt a sense of calm.
*
Roxanne walked aroundher rooms. Nothing had changed since she left. The walls and chairs were done in a periwinkle color with white to accent it. The heavy dark-blue drapes were open. Walking over to the window, she peered down at the garden which was, as always, meticulously kept up. Hedges trimmed and the gardens full of color from the assortment of flowers.
A knock on the door had her whirl around. “Enter,” she said.
The door opened and Mrs. Dunn, the long-time housekeeper, appeared with a young girl.
“Pardon the intrusion, milady, but as you came with no lady’s maid, I took it upon myself to assign one to you. This is Fletcher. Amy Fletcher. She’ll be attending to your needs.”
Roxanne nodded and smiled at the two women. “That was very thoughtful, Mrs. Dunn. Fletcher, thank you.”
“Would you care for tea?” Mrs. Dunn inquired.
“Tea would be nice.” She turned to Fletcher. The girl couldn’t have been twenty, and had dark blonde hair. “Fletcher, while I wait, I would like to freshen up and change. My trunks should be in the dressing room.”
Fletcher nodded and walked towards the dressing room. As she did, Mrs. Dunn made her way to the door. “If you need anything at all, let me know.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Dunn.”
As soon as the door closed, she walked to the dressing room. Roxanne knew the poor girl was probably scared to death in her new position. If the girl was going to serve her, they should get to know each other better.
She found Fletcher bent over a trunk that carried the dresses she had made in France. “There should be a moss-colored day dress in there.”
“Yes, milady. I set everything out for you. Let me know when you’re ready to change.”
Roxanne nodded and turned toward the door. Tea was already here.
*
Roxanne stood infront of the heavy oak door. Sometimes as a child, she dreaded being called to her father’s study. It usually meant a stern talking to for something she might have done, like a trick she had played on Arthur. She was especially fond of going into his rooms and switching something around or locking the cat, Mr. Cat, in the day before Arthur was due home.
Her father’s other reason for calling her in was her inability to act like a lady and how it sometimes drove her mother to stay in her bed. She simply couldn’t understand why her daughter thought riding in trousers was perfectly acceptable or for her to spend hours in the library reading things a young lady shouldn’t be interested in.
All that was in the past. A month after her marriage to Casper, Arthur had inherited the dukedom after their parents had been killed in a mysterious accident while on a voyage toIndia. Details had been sketchy about the incident, and to date, they had no acceptable answer. Their bodies had never been recovered, making the incident even more dark and mysterious.
She shook the cobwebs from her head and knocked, then opened the door. Arthur was seated at his desk, mulling over some papers. He glanced up at her and smiled. “Feel better?”
“Much.”
“Would you like a brandy?”
“Only if you’re having one,” she said, sitting down on the opposite side of the desk.
