Page 33 of A Virgin for the Duke of Scars
She started down the garden path but then hurried the rest of the way to the stables.
“What a pretty boy,” she breathed, petting the velvety nose of the horse she had seen Aaron ride home from their wedding.
“You have an interest in horses, Your Grace?”
She started at the voice that sounded behind her. She turned around to find a young boy covered in hay, with a dirt smudge on his cheek.
“I love riding,” she said wistfully. “I don’t suppose I’m permitted to ride?”
The boy looked uncomfortable at the idea of telling her what she could and could not do. She was a duchess, after all. She still wasn’t used to being the one who set the rules.
But she was thinking of the rules of the convent and what Juliette had told her about staying out after sunset. It would not be safe for her to ride through the streets alone. But perhaps she could just ride around the grounds?
“His Grace rides out frequently. Perhaps you could accompany him,” the boy finally suggested.
Theresa doubted that her husband was the kind of man who would buck convention and let his wife out of the carriage. What would it say about her if she were to sit astride a horse like a man, not in a finer carriage, living a life of leisure?
Still, she could not pull herself away from the horses. She peeked into each stall to see what it contained. The boy eagerly introduced her to each horse. She spent time with each one, judging their temperament and letting them nuzzle at the palm of her hand. The stable hand produced a handful of sugar cubes, which she generously doled out to her favorites.
Their gentle breath on her skin reminded her of home. A home that she could no longer claim. A home that she would never return to now that she had embraced this life in theton.
She thought of Pippen and her rides on the ample land owned by the convent, as well as the days she rode too far into London.Those were the days when she received the discipline that Mother Superior was so keen on handing out.
Wincing, she thought of the scars that crisscrossed her back.
“You would never hurt me, would you?” She whispered to the horse on the edge of the stable. He softly nickered and blew a warm breath on her cheek before nosing her hand for a sugar cube.
She decided that she would ride this horse, Oliver, the next time her husband went out on a ride and deigned to invite her. He was a buckskin gelding, short and stout, which would make it easier for her to mount him. She did not desire the huge horses the Duke preferred.
“I should return to the house,” she said when they reached the end of the aisle.
“I would gladly assist you if you need anything,” the boy offered.
She thanked him, picked up her skirts, and retreated down the stone path to explore the endless halls of the house. She spotted the stairs that led up to the tower where the Duke shut himself off from the world. She thought briefly about marching up and demanding answers.
Remembering the warning from breakfast, she took the path that led in the opposite direction. Anything to tamp down the growing temptation to see exactly what her husband was up to.
This had been the first day she explored Blackwell Manor, and already she was running out of things to see and do. Her husband seemed to find many things to occupy his time in that tower. Was it so wrong for her to want to discover more about him?
To peel back the layers of who he was to the soft underbelly she felt certain existed in his person?
Still, she did not know him at all and could not say what proclivities he may have that she did not want to know about. Theresa reflected on the lessons she had learned with Sister Edith and Sister Margaret about the sins of the flesh.
Perhaps itwouldbe better if she did not know her husband’s sins.
But he could not be all bad. Of that, she was certain.
She had no idea where she was going, but she knew it was opposite the direction of her husband’s tower. Practicing her willpower to stay away, she wandered into the manor with no real destination in mind.
Servants passed her in the hall, each giving her a guarded smile. She smiled back at them, stopping to ask their names, what they did, and where she might find them on any given day.
They seemed put off by her enthusiasm and curiosity, but she could tell she had won over most of them.
She uncovered several sitting rooms, not knowing the purpose of each one or why one manor would need so many sitting rooms. In each one, she sat on the sofa or chair inside and surveyed the art on the walls, trinkets on the shelves, and the heirlooms.
But she eventually made her way to the kitchens.
She stood in the doorway, watching maids bustle from the stovetop to the counters. Knives flashed as they chopped vegetables and leafy greens in preparation for the afternoon meal.
