Page 49 of A Duke Changes Everything
Rowena Belknap approached first. An elderly widow with four grown children and two still at home, she boasted half a dozen grandchildren too. Her late husband had been a longtime tenant on Tremayne lands, but she was struggling to pay her rent and produce enough to feed her family.
The duke listened intently as she made her plea, asking for mercy, for aid if it could be had. With more care than he’d treated Lady Claxton, he nodded and smiled at the older woman, even standing to take her hand as they spoke quietly to one another.
Mina leaned closer to hear.
“It will be done,” she heard him say in his low baritone.
Mrs. Belknap beamed, her face transformed. She looked half her age and as if her burdens had been lifted.
The duke turned back to look for Mina, his brow pinched and jaw tense. The moment their gazes locked, his expression eased, as if he was relieved to find her close. But there was more. An energy passed between them, somehow soothing and disturbing at the same time. The others in the room faded, and for a moment, he was all Mina could see.
When Magistrate Hardbrook stepped up to meet Nicholas, his arrival broke the spell between them.
Mina dipped her head to make a notation in the notebook she’d brought along, a reminder to ask Nick what he’d promised Widow Belknap. But it was a long while before her heart beat steadily again. Something in the way Nick looked at her stripped all pretense away.
“Finally come to take up your birthright. ’Tis good to see a Tremayne at Enderley, Your Grace.” The magistrate didn’t bow, but he removed his hat and clutched the weathered headgear to his chest. “Might I have a word about some tasks that need doing around Barrowmere?”
“Do you have a list, Hardbrook?” Nicholas stood, though he didn’t reach out to shake the magistrate’s hand. “My steward likes lists.”
Hardbrook had no trouble finding Mina in the corner of the room. He stared straight at her and told the duke, “Thought you might have found yourself a proper steward, Your Grace. She’s naught but a girl.” Leaning in, he spoke low, though not quietly enough to be unheard. “Mean to match her to my boy if she’ll have him.”
The two men gazed at her, and Mina’s skin itched. It was disconcerting to have both of them watching her, debating her fate. She realized she was holding her breath, waiting to hear what the duke would say.
“Miss Thorne is an efficient steward. Loyal to the estate. Clever and stubborn.”
Mina gulped and swallowed hard.
“I’m not sure I could stomach apropersteward now.”
Hardbrook’s frown was priceless. In fact, the duke had struck him speechless and the grizzle-haired man backed away like a stunned deer.
Mrs. Shepard approached next. Of all the ladies of the village, Mina thought her one of the kindest, and her eldest daughter had become Mina’s dearest friend before leaving Sussex to take a position as governess in Hampstead.
“Your Grace.” Mrs. Shepard bent a flawless curtsy. “I do not come to petition for anything more than your attendance at our Christmas dance.”
The duke cast Mina an over-the-shoulder look again, but this one was full of misery that signaled the lady’s request was not one he welcomed. “I’m afraid I’m not skilled at dancing, Mrs. Shepard.”
The older woman’s face fell. Mina knew she and a group of villagers worked for months planning their country dance. After the death of Eustace Lyon, they’d expressed hope that the new duke might grace them with his presence. It was a precedent his grandfather had started, though his brother had rarely been in Sussex in the winter to carry on the tradition.
Mina approached. “You needn’t dance, Your Grace. The tradition is that the Duke of Tremayne visits the dance and supplies a gift of food or drink as a kind of blessing over the festivities.”
“The celebration is so large that we must secure the upstairs of the village inn, and festivities spill over into the vicarage. We would be deeply honored by your presence.” Mrs. Shepard extended a cream-colored envelope decorated with calligraphic swirls and carefully painted holly leaves and berries. “The dance is the Sunday before Christmas, Your Grace.”
Nicholas looked up at Mina. She wasn’t sure whether or not he expected her to save him as she had with Lady Claxton.
“Most of the staff members at Enderley will attend,” she told him. “Even Mrs. Scribb and Mr. Wilder.”
One dark brow inched up. “Will you attend, Miss Thorne?”
“You’re invited, of course, Miss Thorne.” Mrs. Shepard offered a kindly smile. “I recall how you used to like the Christmas dance.”
Mina used to, but that had been shattered two years earlier.
“Thank you, Mrs. Shepard,” the duke said warmly. “I would be delighted to attend.”
Delighted?
The man hadn’t been delighted with anything since his arrival. Except for when she’d saved him from hosting a ball. He gave every indication that he loathed dancing and frivolity, and now he was delighted? About a dance that was to take place long after the three weeks when he vowed to depart Enderley forever.
