Page 19 of The Duke's Return
“Why thank you, my dear duchess,” said her husband with a grin. “I do my best.”
She turned to him and then realized he was still holding her hand. Warmth emanated from his grip. At once, she tugged herself free. Or tried, for he would not let her go.
The simple lift of his eyebrow reminded her of the wicked plot of pretending to be a committed, if not loving wedded couple. She gave up trying. When he tucked her hand closer onto his arm, she let him.
“Your Grace, welcome home.” They turned to see a small trail of servants stepping out of the house, led by a butler who was wearing an eyepatch. He turned his other eye to her as she tried not to stare. “Your Grace, we are so glad to have you.”
“Mr. Thomas!” Julian stepped forward. “How good to see you. Everyone, this is my wife, Lady Genevieve Ashcombe, Duchess of Southwick.”
Mr. Thomas offered up introductions of the household before apologizing for the small staff. More servants were being hired within the nearby village for their visit, which had offered very little time in preparations.
As the housekeeper, Mrs. Waverly, stepped up and explained the evening’s menu, Genevieve struggled to focus. The entire household was well behaved and yet they studied her with open curiosity. She fixed her grip on Julian, standing tall, and couldn’t help but hope she met their measure.
“Do take your time,” Julian offered cheerfully. “I think we shall enjoy a stroll before we eat. After the long day’s ride, we need to stretch our legs. My dear?”
It took her a moment to realize he was talking about her. To her. “Oh, yes, lovely. A stroll would be lovely. I’ve always wanted to see the grounds you talk to me of so often,” she added in her sweetest tone.
Judging by his expression, she was trying too hard. Her grip tightened on him in irritation, and his only reaction was to twitch his nose.
“Indeed. We’ll return in half an hour. We’ll have baths drawn and then our supper,” he announced before neatly turning her toward the side of the house. Once they were far enough away, he let out a quiet chortle. “I don’t think you need to try that hard.”
She whipped her head around to glare at him. “You’re the one using endearments.”
“A husband should use endearments, shouldn’t he?”
In reply, she asked sardonically, “And shouldn’t a wife hang on her husband’s every word?”
Julian shook his head and smiled. He seemed to relax in that moment as they rounded the house. The golden light of the setting sun created a halo around his head. Her gaze shifted away. “Marriage is a devious design, only meant to for people to torture one another. Thank the Lord we only have thirty days of this.”
Bitter words out of such a cheerful set of lips surprised Genevieve. She knew he didn’t care for marriage; wedding her was clear enough. But her assumption had been he didn’t wish to be limited to a single woman, based on the countless stories of him she had heard through the years. Hearing this caught her off guard. She opened her mouth to ask if he meant such angertowards the institution of marriage, but grew distracted once more by the view.
This estate was prettier than any painting she had ever seen before.
Though her fingers itched to sketch this place herself, she highly doubted she could ever show one true whit of the beauty here. Dappled daylight shown through the nearby trees. Ahead were well-shaped hedges with fountains and flowers along the path. Somewhere, birds were singing.
Pressing her lips together, she hardly dared breathe to disrupt the view. She walked quietly and softly. For a time, she could even forget about Julian’s obstinate presence before her. He led her walk half a step ahead, leading them along, to slow down or hasten so she might enjoy a closer look at something on the path.
Beyond the hedges, the land opened up into greens and golds––and blue with a nearby pond. This entire estate, Genevieve resolved, belonged in a fairy tale.
“You must have had a wonderful childhood here,” she voiced at last, still speaking softly as though not to disrupt any living thing. Her eyes trailed over the orchard beyond the pond. And to the side were the stables. She noted the movement of servants confidently tending to their carriage and the horses before turning back to see the sunlight sparkling on the water. “It’s so lovely here. I feel like I’ve walked into a storybook.”
A small sound escaped Julian, breaking through the quiet. Her gaze jerked to his. He smiled, but it didn’t look right. “Looks can be deceiving,” he told her lightly. “Don’t you know? Not every fairytale comes with a happy start.”
Confusion swept over Genevieve. She startled as he moved his arm and freed her from hanging on him. But he didn’t move away. Instead, Julian cleared his throat. His hand went around the small of the back while he pointed with his other one.
“An excellent view here to admire the house. It shapes into an L, but we still call that the west wing and this the east wing. You can see the conservatory up ahead. You do seem to enjoy your horticulture. Come, I can show you where we once removed the roof to use this as an open-air ballroom.”
He hurried her along, so Genevieve hardly had a chance to speak, let alone think. “Oh?”
“That was my great aunt Eliza for you. It was her coming out ball and no one, not even her father, could convince her to change her mind. She’d sent invitations to folks all over Europe far in advance. Many of them came, hearing of her clever wit. Her mother begged her to move the ball further indoors, especially when the clouds rolled in.”
“Well, you can hardly dance in the rain,” Genevieve pointed out.
“The rain stopped before the ball. But it flooded. Only about six inches, but that was enough. Still, great aunt Eliza persevered. She took off her shoes to create quite the scandal. And then she convinced everyone else to take their shoes off as well. They splashed all over the ballroom.”
She gasped. “She couldn’t do such a thing!”
Chuckling, he gazed up at the glass-domed conservatory with what she could only term as fondness. “That was my great aunt for you. Her father thought to drag her to a madhouse once. Instead, she suggested they duel over the matter.”
