Page 4 of A Lady's Christmas
Every time he looks at the hearth, the image of Gwen’s tear-stained cheek on the day of the funeral haunts him. He saw she was holding in her emotions and wanted to comfort her. It’s too late for that. He’d spent more than half his life avoiding or berating her. She’d have rejected any kindness from him, and who could blame her?
“I assume that Gwendolyn made all of those arrangements as well.” He points to the stack of accounting to his left.
Breaking eye contact, Noble shifts on his feet. “Um, well, in the last few years, your uncle was not himself and many details began to be unattended. Miss Carter is a very capable young woman, and she cared for your uncle very much. Rather than let the estate suffer, she began to handle the daily work of the steward and the master.”
Narrowing his gaze, the mention of eating his vegetables returns to the forefront of Theo’s mind. “Did she also handle all the work that might be destined for the lady of the house if there had ever been one?”
Noble seems to realize he’s fidgeting and stands up straight with his hands at his back. “She did, Your Grace.”
“Good lord, when did she find time to sleep?” Theo stares at the mountain of paper stating every account, holding, and other financial minutia and then looks back at the hearth. “Where did she go, Noble?”
“She asked us not to say, sir.” There must be something a bit desperate in Theo’s eyes, because Noble sighs when the duke looks up at him. “To The Everton Domestic Society. She wrote two weeks ago that she’d gained employment and is quite comfortable.”
“Thank you. You may go.”
Alone, Theo had nothing but regret to ponder.
He had never met anyone in all his travels who riled him the way Gwen could. He also never met anyone he was as happy to see after a long journey. Perhaps he should have been nicer, but when he was young, she had his uncle’s attention, and he knew what everyone expected of him. Once he was older, he’d enjoyed seeing her in fits of anger and nothing gave him more pleasure than when they would spar with words.
It bore a resemblance to becoming the duke. He’d known for a long time that he would be Duke of Stratham one day. His father was dead, and his uncle had no children. He knew the title would fall to him, but he’d never considered that it would actually happen. When his uncle’s mind began to show signs of wandering, he’d written it off as the vagaries of aging. Four years earlier at Easter, he’d won a chess match with his uncle for the first time. At the time, he’d been thrilled, but now he knew it was a sad day. He should have spent more time at Treadmore.
* * *
The Everton Domestic Society is housed in a nice part of town. The house is well-appointed and cheerful. An ancient butler let Theo in and showed him into a parlor at the front of the house. The furniture is very fine with varying shades of gold and brown. Fresh flowers sit on the coffee table and on top of the grand piano stationed in the front window.
Theo turns when the door opens.
A crease forms between Gwen’s eyes. “Your Grace, what are you doing here?” The red in her hair catches the sunlight streaming through the room, and her green eyes flash with emotions.
Daring not to ask if her question is meant kindly or accusatory, he bows. “I returned home and found you gone. I came to see you and bring you back to Treadmore.”
“I’m not going back.” Her mouth opens to say more, but a maid enters.
“Shall I bring some tea, Miss Carter?”
It looks as if Gwen is biting the inside of her cheek, probably to keep herself from saying something cutting. She sighs. “Your Grace, would you care for some tea?”
Theo moves to the front of a chair placed near the coffee table. “If you will join me, Gwendolyn, I would be delighted.”
She whispers something he can’t make out. “Tea, please, May.”
May bobs and rushes out the door.
The caution in Gwen’s expression is his fault, so he stays calm, despite his wish to demand she sit and then pack and come home. “Please, sit, Gwendolyn.”
“Miss Carter would be more appropriate.” Her voice is formal as she crosses to the settee and sits. “I’m not going to leave Everton.”
“You don’t need employment. You are my responsibility.” It’s not easy to keep his voice from rising, but before he came, he swore he wouldn’t get angry with her.
“I am not anyone’s responsibility. I was the ward of your uncle, not his title. You didn’t inherit me with the estates and fortune, Your Grace.” The strain in her voice pushes his temper to the surface.
Biting his tongue does little to help when she’s accusing him of treating her like a possession. “I did inherit all the responsibilities of the Duke of Stratham and you are among them. There is no reason for you to take employment like a common woman with no other means. You’re the daughter of a gentleman, Gwendolyn.”
Standing in the open door, a tall woman with dark hair pulled back from her face clears her throat. Her cheekbones are very high and her expression is serene. “Many of the Everton Ladies are the daughters of gentlemen, Your Grace.”
Theo and Gwen stand as she enters. Gwen says, “Lady Jane Everton, may I introduce the Duke of Stratham.”
Bowing, Theo wishes he’d had more time alone with Gwen. The rise of voices was probably what brought the lady of the house to the parlor, so he has no one to blame but himself, once again. “My lady, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
