Page 14 of When her Duke Returns
He had been locked in one such meeting with the primary manager of their estate, a pot-bellied and kind-faced little man by the name of Hardy, since early that Wednesday morning.
But no matter how fervently the Duke tried to busy himself with other things, he could not tear his mind from the thought of Lady Mary and their shared embrace. Every utterance regarding his finances was met with half-attention, and he wished for nothing else than to be back in the country where his heart had remained.
“Right,” Hardy said after he bundled up the remainder of his papers. “I believe that’s the run of it for now though I suggest we meet again sometime in the week to go over the matters of your land on the coast. Your mother had some interesting suggestions regarding the state of your summering houses though I suggest we reevaluate these decisions given your return to us.”
Alexander cocked a brow. It was unlike his mother to treat business with any boldness. “Plans such as?”
“For one, she was most set on selling your seat in Devon though I could not say why.” The man pulled a form from his copyholder. “Whitcliff, was it?”
Alexander could hardly believe what he was hearing. “Then I am heartily glad I returned before any sale could be put in motion. That property is more home to me than anywhere else on this earth. Had she given any indication as to why she wished to sell? Surely it presents no burden to us.”
“I have no answer to give you, Your Grace. As I understand it, the abbey simply fell out of favor with her. Better you bring it up with her if you’ll pardon my candor.”
“Of course,” Alexander muttered. He could think of only one reason his mother had been urged to sell their seat, and it had everything to do with its proximity to the Carlisle lands. The thought of them brought another question to mind. “I say, dear chap: you manage the Carlisle properties still, do you not?”
“I do,” Mr. Hardy replied. “Though I cannot say I am at any liberty to discuss them, Your Grace.”
Alexander laughed. “I have no intentions of getting you into trouble, my good man. Simply, I wish to know whether you had intended to take on Lord Burkley and the Lady Mary as well once they are wed. It’s no secret the Carlisles favor you greatly. After all, it is they who recommended you to me. I assume they have brought the matter up.”
Mr. Hardy nodded. “They have, I shall not lie though I fear there is little I can do for the two of them.”
“In what regard?”
“I really should not say, Your Grace.”
“Come now, Hardy! Are we not so well-acquainted that we cannot discuss our mutual friends?”
“Well, the truth of it is that Lord Burkley is looking to settle outside of London as I understand it. He has already made great strides to sell off his southern properties.”
Alexander furrowed his brow. This was the first he had heard of a potential exodus. He knew the Simons family had ties elsewhere, but it seemed impossible for Burkley to consider leaving the city altogether. “How far out of London does he plan to go?”
“As far as onecango without leaving civilized folk entirely. There was talk of his Lordship and the Lady Mary escaping to the far North though I could not say where, why, or when. I am not convinced that the rest of the Carlisle family are privy to this plan. The Earl of Hatton has said nothing of it to me.”
“And you know this with great certainty?”
“Not withgreatcertainty, no. But I cannot see why he would look to sell off as many of his assets as he has if it were not to prepare for some great move.”
Alexander could not shake the feeling that more was afoot that was within his understanding. If Antony truly planned to move Mary away, could he do so without her being privy to it? If she was aware of his desire to be rid of London, why had she not said it?
He chose not to question the man further. “Thank you,” Alexander said, ushering the man from the study. “I shall relieve you of your duty for the day.”
* * *
As Mary strode through the lonely halls of Summerhead on that balmy June morning with a song on her lips, she could hardly contain her glee. It was as if the shroud itself had been lifted from her. Other times, she felt not one thing’s removal but the addition of another: a piece of her soul she did not realize she had been missing.
Mary was not ignorant nor was she afraid. She knew this sudden change in her countenance had most surely sprung from herrendezvouswith the Duke and her subsequent folly at having embraced him. How good had it felt to shed the weight of their unrequited affections; how good to have rebelled against one’s nobility; how sweet the taste of his lips on hers!
She had drawn herself from him after the kiss had concluded and had not known what to say.A lapse of judgment, he had called it.A goodbye, he had then said.Something to seal our promise of friendship, he resolved finally, and Mary liked that the most. She knew she would curse herself for it in time, but she liked having a secret—a thing that was only hers.
As she made for the library on the ground floor of the castle, a cacophony of disquieted voices drifted from the drawing room. Mary was not surprised. After all, there had been much fighting since the night of the ball—between her mother and Francis, between Francis and Harry, and between Francis and whoever was around to shout at. It appeared that not even the brightness of the day could usher away the storm summoned by the Duke’s arrival.
She stood outside of the drawing room’s door for a moment, the green ends of her morning gown swaying at her feet, listening intently with shallow breaths.
“This is complete madness,” she heard Francis growl spitefully. “I mean,really, what could possess a man to act the fool as he did! Without a single thought as to the consequences to our house! Friend or no, I curse him for it—I do! We shall be the laugh of the town for this. Not one of you is to return to London until the mill has settled.”
“We have no other choice,” she heard her mother answer. “We cannot hold up here for the rest of the Summer and wait for things to meet their natural end. They would brand us cowards, Francis. Better to face things head-on, I say. We are not the first house to face such scandal, and I doubt we shall be the last. Look at the Campbells last fall and their Miss Lily’s being jilted at the altar. They recovered within a month, and so shall we.”
“I won’t hear of it, Mother. We are no more the Campbells than we are the rulers of England, and our friends will do us no favors,” Francis stated. “I am constrained to travel back shortly to attend to affairs in London, but the rest of you will stay here until the worst has passed.”
