Page 59 of Trapped with the Forbidden Duke
Leaving their glasses on the table, Lucien retreated to bed, and since he was riled up, it was some time before sleep found him.
Edwina’s chest still burned with the shame of her fumble from the night before even as she was shown to the breakfast room.
She had requested to eat alone, for she had not wanted to risk seeing Lucien, not when she was so embarrassed. Yet, after sharing several meals with him and her aunt at Montgomery Manor, dining alone was a strange experience.
There was no chattering from her aunt, as she had grown used to during her visit, and there was a phantom anxiety she had once felt as she had worried about her brother’s condition that day.
Her thoughts strayed to Nicholas.
Where was he now? How was he faring? Dread coiled in her stomach as she assumed the worst. What if he had fallen back into old habits the moment she was gone?
No.I must have more trust in him.
“Have I received any missives?” Edwina asked Mrs. Galley once she had finished her breakfast. The older woman was leadingher down the main corridor, embarking on a tour of the estate. “My brother is due to write to me upon arriving at his retreat.”
“There is nothing for you just yet, Your Grace, but as soon as it arrives, you shall be informed promptly.”
“And it will not go to His Grace?” Edwina asked, dreading the thought of having to confer with her husband about anything.
“If it is addressed to you, then Mr. Hamilton shall deliver it to you.” Mrs. Galley gave Edwina a patient smile. “Now, this is your parlor. Further along, we have the drawing room, and beyond that, the library. Do you read?”
“Oh, very much. I should like to see the library.”
“Very well.”
The housekeeper took her past a pale, open drawing room where the sunlight poured through the windows in a way it never quite had in Montgomery Manor. Perhaps it was because the rolling hills of the countryside surrounded Stormhold Hall, allowing for more light and space.
They soon stepped into the library, a magnificent space of more than one level, with curved staircases leading to balconied areas and rows upon rows of bookshelves.
Above their heads was a large mural of two people reaching out for one another across a great expanse of calm ocean.
It stole Edwina’s breath. She would spend hours upon hours in there, she knew.
“It is beautiful,” she breathed in awe. “I might have to end our tour here and call for tea if you do not mind.”
Mrs. Galley nodded. “As you wish, Your Grace. His Grace has declared that you are free to do as you please.”
“I am sure there are duties I must begin learning about.”
“In due time, of course. For now, His Grace has only requested that you get settled in whatever way you please. If that means staying in here, then we may continue our tour later today.”
“That is rather generous, but I would very much like to get acquainted with my new home.”
It was strange to think of it as that—her new home. Edwina tried not to focus too greatly on how, even from a distance, the Duke was taking care of her. He knew the strain she had been under because of her brother, and now he was ensuring that she knew it was time to think about herself. Yet, she could not switch off her mind from responsibility quite so easily.
Mrs. Galley continued leading her through the house. Every time Edwina thought they had finished the tour, there was another room, another garden entrance, another hallway.
By the time they had finished, Edwina was quite exhausted.
She had barely slept the night before, her body heavy from the sting of Lucien’s rejection, and now all she wished to do was return to the library and have some tea.
“Can you tell me about Stormhold itself?” she asked as Mrs. Galley showed her back to the library, for she did not trust herself not to get lost.
“Of course. I have lived just outside it my whole life, as my mother has always worked for the Fitzgeralds. Stormhold is quite a large village, compared to many. There is Green Bank Woods to the right of the village, and the cliffs of Stormhold to the left. Within the village itself, there are some lovely shops. A jeweler, a blacksmith, a bakery—one I believe His Grace is rather fond of, for he frequents it when he is staying here—and several other businesses. There is also a modiste. She is nothing like the ones you are accustomed to in London, but she makes beautiful garments. She produced a great deal for the former Duchess.”
Edwina thought of her wardrobe, meager for a long time, and only recently updated thanks to Lucien’s generosity. “I would love to see some of those gowns.”
“I’ll arrange a time for you to see them, Your Grace. In the meantime, His Grace has requested that you be given a horse, and use of the ducal carriage, to go wherever you please. All he requests is that he is made aware of your whereabouts.”
