Page 35 of A Bargain with the Rakish Duke
Kenneth leaned back in his chair, considering the offer. The land was indeed valuable, but he couldn’t ignore the Viscount’s motives for selling. “And what has driven you to this decision, Ashford?”
The Viscount’s face flushed slightly. “I have had some… financial difficulties. Debts that need to be settled.”
Kenneth’s gaze hardened. “Gambling debts?”
Ashford shifted uncomfortably. “Among other things, yes.”
Kenneth felt a surge of anger, the memories of his father’s reckless behavior flooding back. “I see. It’s unfortunate that such circumstances have led you to this point.”
Ashford nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his features. “Yes, well, it’s necessary.”
There was a brief, tense silence before he spoke again, attempting to lighten the mood. “I had almost forgotten, Your Grace. Congratulations on your recent marriage. I hear you’ve taken Lady Beatrice Wickes as your wife.”
Kenneth’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, I have.”
The Viscount smiled though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Quite the match, indeed. Her family’s reputation precedes her, especially with a brother like Patrick. One must wonder what kind of duchess she will be, coming from such a stock.”
Kenneth’s hackles rose at the insinuation. “Lady Beatrice is my wife, Ashford. I would advise you to tread carefully when speaking of her or her family.”
Ashford’s smile faltered. “Of course, Your Grace. I meant no disrespect.”
Kenneth leaned forward, his tone icy. “See that you don’t. Now, about the land. I will consider your offer and have my steward review the details. You will hear from me soon.”
The Viscount nodded quickly, sensing that the conversation was over. “Thank you, Your Grace. I appreciate your time.”
Kenneth stood up, signaling the end of the meeting.
As Ashford left the room, Kenneth’s thoughts returned to Beatrice. He had defended her without hesitation, and the realization stirred something within him. Despite their rocky start, he felt a growing sense of protectiveness towards her. She was his wife, and he would allow no one to tarnish her name or her honor.
He returned to his desk. The desire gnawing at him was a constant, unwelcome distraction.
As he reviewed the papers before him, his thoughts kept drifting back to her, wondering how he would balance his duty and the intense, undeniable attraction that burned between them.
Beatrice busied herself with unpacking, her hands moving deftly through her belongings. Anna and the young maid, Grace,worked alongside her. The room was filled with the quiet rustle of fabric and the soft thud of items being placed in drawers. Beatrice found the simple task soothing, a welcome distraction from the uncertainties of her new life.
As Beatrice pulled out an elaborate gown, Mrs. Whitfield entered the room, her eyes widening in surprise. “Your Grace, what are you doing?” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with alarm.
Beatrice turned, offering her a reassuring smile. “I just wanted to help, Mrs. Whitfield. I’ve barely anything left to do for today, and I thought I might as well do something useful.”
Mrs. Whitfield hesitated, clearly torn between her duty and the unusual sight before her.
“If that is what the lady of the castle wishes,” she said finally, her tone reluctant but respectful.
As the minutes passed, the atmosphere lightened. The maids, initially unsure of how to act around their new mistress, began to relax. Beatrice encouraged them to share stories about their lives, genuinely interested in getting to know them.
Grace, the younger maid, spoke first, her eyes lighting up as she recounted tales of her family in the village. “My little brother, James, is always running wild in the fields. He’s a handful, but he’s got such a big heart,” she said, her smile widening.
Anna chimed in, her voice filled with excitement, “I have three younger sisters. They’re always underfoot, helping with chores or getting into mischief. They’re the joy of my life.”
Beatrice listened intently, her own heart warming at their stories. “It sounds like you both have wonderful families. It must be lovely to have such close-knit bonds.”
At one point, she couldn’t resist lightening the mood further.
“Have you noticed how the Duke always seems so stern?” She stood tall, her face a picture of exaggerated seriousness. “I am the Duke of Dunford, and I demand order!” she declared in a deep, mockingly authoritative voice.
Anna and Grace burst into giggles, their laughter echoing through the room. Beatrice joined in, feeling a rare sense of camaraderie and normalcy.
Suddenly, a voice came from the doorway, and it was none other than the Duke himself.
