Page 2 of The Duke's Return
“Wonderful! Oh, what a charming young man. I do hope he is unchanged. I’ve known him since the day he was born, after all. That was just after my family lost our luck. My first post was here to care for the lad when he wasn’t with his nursemaid. Oh! I must prepare the house at once.” The housekeeper started rambling off chores to be done, heading for the door before she turned back. “Your Grace? My lady?”
Genevieve blinked, looking up. “Yes?”
“All will be well.” The housekeeper tapped her nose like she knew something special. And then she hastened out with a cheer like it was Michaelmas morning.
I forgot how much Mrs. Culpepper liked him.
Every woman did, it seemed, like Julian Ashcombe. No one could believe she had married him. What a near call it had been, cast from society for being the one to marry the charming rake. She’d have given up if her dear friend, Phoebe, had not convinced her to stop hiding under his name.
“Phoebe!” Genevieve pulled herself to her feet, remembering she had plans this morning. She glanced at her morning dress with a frown. First, she downed a few bites of her porridge and then she hastened out of the room.
It was going to be a lovely spring morning. Determined to enjoy the last few days she would have before her husband upended the peaceful life she had made for herself, Genevieve found a pale blue dress that complemented her gray eyes and black hair. She put on her favorite necklace, a gift from her parents at seventeen, and then headed off to the mews where Phoebe would be certain to collect her soon.
“Your Grace?” The butler strode over, beckoning her back before she could make her escape. “Your Grace, please. I just sent off servants to find you.”
She smiled apologetically at Mr. Norman. Their butler had abruptly retired over Michaelmas and the middle-aged man here had been promoted due to his length of experience here. He often appeared harried but repeatedly promised he was more than satisfied with his new post.
“Good morning, Mr. Norman. I was just on my way out the door, I’m afraid. Lady Phoebe will be arriving any moment. Can this wait?”
“I’m afraid not.” His face reddened as he stepped forward and then wavered before stepping back again, waving an arm back toward the entry way. She’d just passed the hall entry a moment ago. “His Grace has returned.”
The smile on her lips didn’t budge. But she blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
How fast is Mrs. Culpepper as a gossip, truly? I cannot believe she’s already informed everyone. We don’t even know when the duke will return. I’d rather keep such chatter quiet until we have certainty. He might not desire to come here.
“The Duke of Southwick?” the butler responded.
“Yes, I know him. I know I’m wed to him,” she added. “But he’s not expected for some time. Whatever Mrs. Culpepper told you, I would recommend we not make any plans until we hear from him.”
Mr. Norman shifted and tugged at his collar. “Yes, Your Grace. I’m sorry, my lady. I don’t know how to tell you this, but… he is here.”
“He’s here?” she repeated dumbly. “The duke? My husband? He’s here? He can’t… where could he be?”
Genevieve realized the answer before the words were all out of her mouth. She stared at the butler, certain this had to be some sort of mistake. A twisted jest.
But the duke had made a jest to her once in the past in the only conversation they’d ever shared. A frown made her lips twist. Sliding past the butler, she turned toward the entry hall.
There he was.
Her feet kept guiding her toward him, albeit more slowly once she laid eyes on the duke. Julian Ashcombe stood there in the front hall next to the small table with the most recent bouquet she had created. A rose wilted by his elbow as he set his hat down to bow to her.
A year had passed but he had hardly changed. It was as though he had turned around and come right back to her. But as she drew nearer, Genevieve noted the trimmed golden curls. The lines in his brow. And a slight twist of his lips.
They gazed at one another, she noted, like the strangers they were.
Parting her lips to speak, Genevieve tried to say something. To welcome him. But it made little sense when this was home. It hardly seemed right to scold him for not alerting her to his arrival. To hear it from one of his aunts was downright dreadful.
What am I to say? What should I expect? He told me he was taking a naval post and then he was gone. We really are strangers. I cannot think of anything we have to say to each other. And yet…
“I said I wouldn’t interfere, I know,” Julian said suddenly. She straightened her shoulders. “I meant it.” Except that didn’t explain his presence which he seemed to acknowledge with a nod. His following words were softer. “However, I did promise I would return eventually. And I am a man of my word to yourpromise still. I assure you, my affairs need to be addressed. Discreetly.”
Affairs. Of course. If I wasn’t at home, would he even seek me out?
She frowned and crossed her arms. That was why they had married, a fact that haunted her many a night. And in one of the few letters she’d seen in the solicitor’s office, she’d seen him noting concern about a few business matters that required an Ashcombe signature or two.
“Well, you cannot marry again for whatever matter this may be,” she said at last.
The way his lips curled into a wide smile sent a strange shiver down her spine that she tried to ignore. “Always clever, you are. And absolutely correct. I cannot wed again. Fortunately, I already have myself a wife who can help me handsomely.”
