Page 22 of Wedded to the Forbidden Duke
“Young love.” Cecilia stifled a chuckle. “Of course.”
Though she was amused by the idea of their marriage being anything close to a love match, that feeling was quickly outweighed by a sudden and nearly overwhelming sense of sorrow. She felt sorrow for Ian, and for all that he had lost—all the pain she did not know—and also sorrow for the fact that she did not know of his loss until now.
How sad it is,she thought,to be married to a man and yet not know him at all.
“You must pardon me,” Mr. Ainsworth said. “I have been here for all of five minutes, and already I have brought gloom to what should be a sunny morning. It is, after all, your very first day as the new duchess! You must tell me all about yourself. I have heard much from the duke himself, of course, but I must hear it from you…”
That surprised her. Had the duke really spoken of her at all? And if he had, in such a way that would lead this gentleman to view her so kindly? It seemed unthinkable.
Yet, as they walked together through the gardens, Cecilia found herself at remarkable ease in Mr. Ainsworth’s presence. While she did not divulge the specifics of how she and Ian had come to be wed—although she could not help but wonder, of course, if Ian had already done so—she did tell the kindly older man all about her family.
He seemed already familiar with Zachary, of course. This was entirely unsurprising, given what good friends he and Ian were. And perhaps that was how Mr. Ainsworth knew of her, shethought; perhaps Ian had merely mentioned her in passing to his solicitor, mentioning her as the sister of his best friend.
“Now, these lilacs were a particular favorite of the late duchess. The present duke’s mother,” Mr. Ainsworth explained.
Cecilia bent down so as to look at the beautiful blooms more closely. As she reached out to cup one in her hand, there was the sound of footsteps approaching from behind.
“Mr. Ainsworth!”
“Ah, the man of the estate himself!” Mr. Ainsworth cried out, grinning widely. “So good to see you, Your Grace.”
Ian clapped the old man on the shoulder genially as Cecilia rose back to standing. When he noticed her there, Ian gave her a short nod. “Cecilia.” It filled her with an unexpected warmth, to hear the unfamiliar sound of her first name on his lips. “I see you have met my solicitor.”
“Yes. He was just doing the kindness of showing me the grounds,” she replied frostily. “Seeing as how I had yet to tour them.”
“Really, Your Grace, neglecting your lovely bride so soon into your marriage! It is unconscionable,” Mr. Ainsworth said, playfully scolding him.
Ian smiled tightly. “I have been busy managing the estate,” he said stiffly, “as is my duty as duke. In fact, Mr. Ainsworth and I have much to discuss. We shall leave you to your tour.”
As soon as they settled into the study, Mr. Ainsworth pulled out his pipe and lit it, settling into one of the fine leather armchairs. It was a habit of his. Mr. Ainsworth was a well-principled man, with few vices, but the pipe was a vice he had had for as long as Ian could remember, and he doubted the old man would ever give it up.
“Well, well, well, Your Grace,” he said, taking a deep puff of the pipe and exhaling it. “I must say, congratulations on such a fine match. I always expected you to marry a woman of great beauty, of course, but you seem to have found a wife with intelligence to match her looks.” He nodded again, looking pleased as he took another pull of the pipe. “How is the marriage so far?” he asked, an almost paternal curiosity written out across his kind, wrinkled face.
“Marriage,” Ian all but spit out, shaking his head as he walked around his table. “It is a farce. The lady and I were seen in what was misconstrued as an improper moment. Though nothing of the sort occurred, her brother demanded we marry so as to protect her honor. As a gentleman, I had no choice but to accept—and believe me, Lady Cecilia is even less thrilled about the marriage than I am. A more ill-matched couple could not be conceived.”
“Ah, surely you do not mean that, Your Grace?” Mr. Ainsworth inquired.
“I most certainly do. She is stubborn, ill-tempered, self-righteous?—”
Mr. Ainsworth chuckled. “Ah. So she reminds you too much of yourself, eh? You protest, but as someone who has known you since you were tall as my knee, it sounds as though the two of you may have more in common than you think.”
Ian took a deep breath. “It is a marriage of convenience, Mr. Ainsworth, nothing more. I assure you.”
“You say that now, Your Grace,” Mr. Ainsworth mused, letting out another puff of smoke. “But if there is one thing I know about you, it is that you have never been able to resist a challenge.”
Ian waved him off. “I thought I brought you here to speak of the estate, not my marriage?”
Mr. Ainsworth raised an eyebrow at him, then shook his head. “A man more interested in estate planning than his new bride. I never thought I would live to see the day,” he muttered, as he pulled out a sheaf of papers from his briefcase.
They began going over the most recent property affairs in detail. Yet, as they began to go over the documents, Ian could not shake Mr. Ainsworth’s comments from his mind.
“Perhaps you may have more in common than you think.”
Chapter Ten
“This meal is delicious,” Mr. Ainsworth crowed, patting his mouth with a napkin delicately before tucking back into the roast pheasant they were dining upon. “A finer one I can’t remember.”
Cecilia beamed at him. “I can take no credit. It is all thanks to Mrs. Fitzclarence. She has been a godsend, in teaching me the ropes of the house. I am afraid I am a bit overwhelmed by the scope of the property. It seems quite daunting.”
