Page 42 of The Duke's Return
If only I had known what sort of problem could arise from here.
“There you go,” murmured the tart-looking housekeeper. She straightened up and eyed him. “A hot bath is waiting for you in your bedchamber. We can have supper sent up to you afterward.”
“Thank you.” He stood but she didn’t budge. “Is there anything else, Mrs. Waverly?”
“No, Your Grace. Carry on. I do hope you heal quickly. We’ll find you a proper salve to mend the skin by nightfall, I think. And for your troubles, do make sure to hear them out,” she echoed emphatically.
Julian rolled his eyes. “I am, I…”
Then he paused as she moved away. Cleaning up the rest of the mess with the linens catching the water he’d dripped everywhere, Mrs. Waverly hastily tended the hall and then started off to tend to her cloth. He watched her go as he thought about what she said.
She’s not just talking about the tenants, is she?
“Lovely,” Julian sighed to himself in the empty space. “My housekeeper is giving me marriage advice.”
It appeared he needed it, seeing as he hardly knew what he was doing. Yes, he should listen to everyone. A duke had the responsibility for countless others. Though his father worked with the mindset that a duke always knew better for everyone, Julian had never seen that to be the case. A duke merely had to help everyone discover and collect what was better for everyone.
Not that I took it particularly seriously after university, I suppose. But what could I do? I was a young buck. I needed to spread my wings and fly a little before being chained down.
Because, ultimately, he had been chained down.
Julian would never forget reading that contract for the first time. Hearing about his uncle, the man who had helped him grow into the role of a duke under this exact roof, how he’d wanted to claim Southwick for himself. The terms that required him to be married within three months or lose it.
“I don’t wish to marry. I never did.” He remembered Genevieve’s expression on their wedding day when he explained himself, believing it was best she understand the clarity of their union, so she had no expectations of him. “I will not seek an heir from you.”
The shock had been clear in her eyes. Confusion and suspicion, too, but she had been brave about the entire matter.
So he told her of his family, the one she had just married into. “They wished for my southern estate, which is a complicated sort of contract, one they could have taken should I not be married within a certain number of years after taking the title.”
Genevieve accepted this truth. She never asked for anything more beyond her own peace. She lived a quiet life just the way she desired. All must have been going well––until he returned.
Perhaps I am the menace in her life. Her anger is just. And on top of this all, she is a very clever woman.
What an annoying fact this was for Julian. He preferred to think of her as a meddler, as a pawn, as a woman who needed him and gained from him in return. Though he’d caught a glimpse of her strength back in London with the household, Genevieve proved her strong will even while facing down an injury she didn’t know how to take care of.
Julian walked toward his bed chamber and studied the bandage. It was well-wrapped. The injury was unfortunate, but he didn’t think it would take too long to heal even if it did cross the side of his palm onto his wrist. That had been his mistake, having his hand in the way of the wagon spoke at the wrong time.
“We’re awful sorry for this,” Mr. Riding had said repeatedly while his wife frantically tried to staunch the bleeding earlier that day.
It had felt like an easy task at the time. They had been hiding out in their small stables when the storm took over. Mrs. Riding had four of her children to entertain while Julian had attempted to help with the useless wagon. All had gone well until he’d made a foolish mistake.
Repeatedly trying to reassure them that he would hold no spite against them, Julian gave up arguing to let his injury be seen to. Negotiations would not go further beyond that. He made certain the wagon wheel would work, then had taken his leave back toward the estate.
And now he was back here. His injury wrapped, Genevieve deserting him, and his housekeeper giving him advice.
“Mrs. Waverly, if only you knew what we are up to,” he muttered under his breath with a low chuckle. Then he entered his bed chamber where he discovered his valet ready and waiting for him beside the tub. Once Julian undressed and settled in the steaming water, he asked, “Can you have someone send the duchess some fresh tea and pastries? I think she went to lie down, but I’m worried for her nerves. Don’t tell her that.”
Off his valet went so Julian could relax.
Or somewhat. His mind kept spinning as it did of late. He couldn’t stop thinking about the problems with his tenants and how they inevitably tied to his family and their actions. Then he thought of the Riding family, and the previous four families he’d spoken to before them. The pain in his hand was forgotten. And every now and again, Genevieve came to mind.
“Clever little lady,” he sighed and sunk in a little deeper.
Her notes had been invaluable this morning. Although his tenants had been ready to rail at him, once he shared what he knew and the questions he had, everyone had calmed down.
There was a folded-up list, assuredly damp but hopefully still useful, in one of his pockets. His valet had set it out to dry. Now, Julian had a number of matters to tend to for the village that had been ignored over the past couple of years.
I should have known even before marrying that I should check in here. My uncle has been coming and going for far too long with free reign.
