Page 43 of The Duke's Return
The bath helped him to think clearly. Tired as Julian was from his day, he dressed and made his way down to the study to gather up several bills. None of them were for purchases or services that he, his household, or his tenants had used. Rather, they were all from various family members who all managed their own incomes while choosing to live beyond them.
Once Julian had the names all set up in piles with their bills, he folded them up neatly for the post. They’d be sent back out with neat little letters on the morrow. It was beyond time, Julian had decided, to remind his family that he was not their bank. They needed to be reasonable and not selfish.
This work had Julian feeling much restored, inviting him to manage several papers and issues until he began to tire of the effort. He sat back in his desk to stare at the bandage on his hand.
For a minute, earlier today, Genevieve had touched him there. She had tried with her limited knowledge to care for him. No one had done that for him before.
“Nice,” he mused. “It was nice. She was nice. But it’s not supposed to be that way. This marriage doesn’t mean a thing.”
Or so Julian told himself.
Why do I care? It makes no sense why she lingers on my mind. I shouldn’t care what she does. She didn’t really take care of my injury, not truly. And yet… she tried her best. And that was more than endearing.
He didn’t want to like it. He didn’t want to care.
Julian tried to brush the thoughts aside for some time. But when a footman came around asking if he was ready for his suppertray, Julian found himself saying instead, “Never mind that. I’ll eat in the dining room alongside my duchess. I’ve hardly seen my dear all day.”
Wondering if she would take umbrage for him not changing for the meal, Julian soon went to find her in the drawing room.
She stood there in the corner speaking with Mrs. Waverly, merely nodding at him when he entered.
“If we don’t have fish for tomorrow, that’s perfectly all right. We can use the lemon for chicken instead. Just take care of the spoiled meat since I don’t want anyone having to suffer that stench any longer than they must,” Genevieve said quietly.
“Don’t be daft,” he teased. “I’m sure we can go fishing in the morning, just the two of us. You can fish, can’t you?”
She pursed her lips and then rolled her eyes. “Do be reasonable, Your Grace.”
“I’m perfectly reasonable. I always am.”
At once her gaze turned to his hand before she sent him a pointed look. “You are…” Then Genevieve paused and he noted the way she skirted her gaze to the housekeeper and then focused back on him. “Quite the jester, it would seem. Should you wish to fish in the morning, I wouldn’t dream of stopping you.”
“Thank you, my dear. I do appreciate the countless reminders of why you married me,” he added, daring to be a bit cheeky. Then he came up to take her hand on his arm. “Mrs. Waverly, do as my dear wife says. She does know all, as you might have suspected. Shall we in to supper?”
Genevieve started to nod but then paused. Her hand tightened on his arm. “Are you well, then?” Real concern sounded in her voice, albeit somewhat stilted. “How is your hand?”
Unable to help himself, Julian put his free hand over hers to sandwich her between him. “I’m going to live, which I’m sure is a great relief. But the great relief will surely be filling my empty belly. I can hardly wait to see what sort of meal you have helped prepare for us, my duchess.”
He tried to find the fine line between exaggeration and sobriety. Seeing the twitch on Genevieve’s lips left him hopeful.
“Then do let us go in,” she murmured.
And to supper the two of them went, pretending all was well.
CHAPTER 17
At the end of their first fortnight would be a ball at Lady Penbury’s estate. While it wouldn’t last all day into the evening, such an affair required mental preparation for Genevieve.
Her walk that morning was short as she needed the time in her parlor to practice movements with her fan. Pulling in Elodie, the two women practiced fluttering and snapping and waving until the maid swore that she was certain to have broken her wrist through exhaustion.
This prompted Genevieve to practice a little longer before collecting a few books. “Do help me put those on my head, would you?”
Elodie frowned at the notion and then obeyed. There was a clear question in her eyes as she scooted backward against the wall to stay out of Genevieve’s way.
“Shall I follow you to catch the books, Your Grace?” The maid asked tentatively when Genevieve took a cautious step forward.
“Please don’t, that shall make me too nervous. It’s been too long since I did this and I can’t…” She couldn’t get her mother’s voice out of her head on days like today. But she didn’t want to admit that. After all, this wasn’t the first time she’d roped her maid into helping her practice her social mannerisms. “I cannot disappoint His Grace.”
The maid gave a short nod. They’d never really talked about the duke in the past, which Genevieve supposed was for the best. And while the two of them talked about much, there was certainly a vague uncertainty about everything happening at the moment.
