Page 13 of Always the Bridesmaid, Never the Duchess
The butler shook his head. “I am sorry, Miss. He left a short time ago. He gave me this note for you.”
Kate took the note from Mr. Scoville and opened it.
Dear Miss Avery,
I apologize if I have distressed you today. I have matters to attend to in Devonport and a meeting with the Earl of Winfield to apprise him of our progress. I shall return tomorrow morning, so we may continue with the preparations.
Kate folded the note, confused. Surely her emotions had not been so obvious as to warrant his departure. Perhaps he spoke the truth and he simply had matters to attend to. She shouldn’t let his abrupt departure disturb her.
“Will there be anything else, ma’am?” Mr. Scoville stood waiting for further instruction.
Kate waved her hand. “No, thank you, Mr. Scoville.”
“Very good. Tibbs could do with a bath. He found something distasteful on the grounds and somehow managed to make his way into His Grace’s bedchambers and leave it on his bed. Perhaps that is why he left in such haste.”
Kate grinned. Tibbs was always there to defend her.
At Devonport, Andrew alighted from his carriage. The note he had left for Kate had been a welcome respite from his own frustration with his behavior. He disliked causing distress to any woman, and for some reason, seeing Kate’s face so pale disturbed him more than he liked. His meeting with his cousin, Harry, Earl of Winfield, was the perfect excuse to leave Renwood Castle. Kate had certainly shown herself a capable mistress of her household akin to his own grandmother who was a tough woman in her own right. Something he did not often see in women within his social circle. Despite his grudging admiration of her capabilities, he found himself at odds with her whenever they attempted to engage in a civil conversation. Her continued insistence that he was the perpetrator of the gossip about her brother, Nicholas, Viscount of Pembrooke disturbed him.
When he entered the parlor, his grandmother looked up from her needlework and frowned. “I thought you wouldn’t return for some days yet. Are the wedding plans complete already?”
Andrew bent down and kissed his grandmother on her cheek. “No. I promised Harry I would meet with him this evening to discuss arrangements. I have been frustrated to no end trying to plan the wedding with Miss Avery. She disagrees with me at every turn.”
His grandmother raised her brows at his declaration. “I know the Dowager Viscountess quite well, and although Lady Pembrooke is an obstinate woman, I doubt that Miss Averywould be disagreeable. Lady Pembrooke would ensure that her granddaughter displayed all of the appropriate social graces.”
Andrew snorted. “Social graces, yes, but Miss Avery voices her opinion on everything. It’s maddening.”
“Come sit with me and tell me more about your visit and the state of the wedding plans.” She set her needlework aside. Next to the fire, Cinder, her black cat and constant companion opened one green eye. Seeing it was Andrew, he closed his eye and returned to sleep.
Andrew sat down next to the fire. A storm had started to brew outside as his carriage pulled up to the house and the air had turned cold. He felt a small moment of satisfaction that he had been correct to insist on the wedding being held indoors.
“Miss Avery is quite outspoken. She spends more time with her books than she does with her peers. I fear it has made her quite obtuse. She fought me at every turn.” Andrew stared at the fire. His countenance grew grumpier by the second.
The Dowager Duchess gave him an indulgent smile. “So she is not the wilting flower like most of the girls who’ve tried to capture your hand in marriage?”
“Quite the opposite. Her tongue is sharp, and she frustrates me,” Andrew said.
“Perhaps you simply like the girl.” She turned to him, but he looked away from her watchful eyes.
His grandmother’s pronouncement startled Andrew and he scowled. “Certainly not. She is a wallflower and a bluestocking. I shall be quite glad when this wedding is finished so I can see the back of Miss Avery. In fact, I shall tell her tomorrow that my time is too valuable to while away the hours on such nonsense as a wedding. Every decision can be hers.”
“Is that wise? You promised Harry that you would assist him.”
“I’ve made up my mind. Miss Avery is on her own.” His decision made, Andrew couldn’t help but feel the matter wasn’t quite done.
The Dowager Duchess looked down at her needlework. She made a small noise of disbelief. Andrew gave her a sharp glance trying to discern his grandmother’s thoughts, but she simply gave him a thoughtful look and smiled.
“Cousin, you are in a foul temper,” Harry said.
Andrew and Harry strolled to the stables to inspect the newest stallion the duke had acquired. Harry had arrived that afternoon, and his eagerness to marry Miss Roves caused Andrew to stifle his urge to excuse himself from returning to Renwood Castle and Miss Avery.
“Are you well-acquainted with Miss Avery, the Viscount of Pembrooke’s sister?” Andrew asked, clasping his hands behind his back as he turned to Harry.
Harry raised a quizzical brow. “I have had occasion to speak to her as she is Julia’s closest friend. She seems a pleasant enough girl despite her bookish ways. Why do you ask?”
Andrew opened his mouth to vent his frustrations about Kate, but Harry had asked for his assistance as family. It would be churlish of him to complain. “I find her difficult to please,” he said finally.
Harry nodded. “Excellent. I am pleased that she is paying such close attention to the details of the wedding. This must be a glorious affair. I am eager to please Julia and start our married life on the heels of a grand wedding.”
