Page 13 of Once Upon a Winter's Tale
But why?She had no social rank. She was no one special, and her mother had asked her not to draw attention to herself—although she had never explained why.
A sniffle drew her attention to her mother, who had obviously been crying. “Why are there tears, Mama?”
Mama sniffed. “I received a note with sad news, is all. Someone very special died, and I feel conflicted over not having been there. One day, I will explain it to you, but not today. I cannot talk about it right now.” Her voice sounded strained. “You are a beautiful young woman, and the duke is quite taken with you. Jane will chaperone, and even though she won’t dine with you, I have perfect faith in your abilities to carry on a delightful dinner conversation with His Grace. It would not be right to ask you to stay.”
Her mother had never spoken thus about her. “You’ve changed your opinion of him? Earlier, you didn’t want me to draw attention to myself…”
“I think that is my anxiety speaking. Your company will delight the duke over dinner and in a brief excursion to the village. He will soon be on his way,” Mama answered.
There was so much to ask, but Brianna chose not to. “Yes, Mama. I will do my best and keep the conversation trivial.”
Her mother nodded, barely picking her head up as she shifted her position on her couch. “I will be better by the time you return. Please forgive me for not going, but I need some time to adjust. There is nothing for you to be concerned about, Bree. I will be fine.”
Jane stepped into the room with a small bowl of warm, rolled towels. “My lady, I brought wet towels for your head. They should help.”
“Thank you, Jane. If you can accompany Brianna to dinner, I would be most appreciative.”
“I will be happy to go with her, Lady Thomas,” Jane returned, and looked at Brianna. “I will be ready in a few minutes, Miss Brianna.”
Brianna leaned over and kissed her mother on the forehead. “Feel better, Mama.”
“I’m sure I will. I just need a little while,” she replied. “Go to dinner and relay my regrets to His Grace.”
*
Brianna arrived andwas escorted to the dining room, where the duke awaited. “Your Grace, my mother sends her regrets. She was not feeling well and took her meal in her room.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” he said. “In that case, you won’t be upset if we shuffle things up a little, would you?” He gestured toward where her place setting was in the middle of the table. “I will be more comfortable if you would sit next to me. Would you mind?”
“No, Your Grace,” she replied. Of course she did not mind.
“Terrific,” he said, holding out a chair for her. He waved off the footman, and she stepped in front of her chair before the duke carefully slid it to the table and took his seat next to her.
This was not what Brianna had envisioned when she accepted the invitation to dine with the duke, but found she liked it—very much! It warmed her heart to realize he did it to make her more comfortable. She had dreaded the possibility of eating at the very long table, unsure of where they would place her.
“What do you like to do when you go into town?” he asked, redirecting her attention. “I’m counting on you to show me around. It’s the first time I’ve ever been here. Father visited periodically, often with my mother. She enjoys the seaside. This is my first trip to Devon that I can recall. And I’m eager to see everything the village offers, so I will have a good idea of how to help them.”
Brianna couldn’t miss the sad look that passed over his face when he mentioned his father. The man had last been here three years ago and seemed so robust and full of life. It had excited him that his sons were coming home. On every trip, he mentioned his family and told special stories about them, making her feel as if she knew them. She tried to recall what he had said about his eldest.
“I knew your father,” she said instead. “He was always very kind. He hired Mr. Benson and his son to care for the livestock and the stables—after Mr. Peters died, of course.”
“Do you ride?” he asked.
That was it! His father had mentioned his eldest son loved his horses and was always working with the new ones. “I do, Your Grace, although not enough. Mr. Benson and his son Roy, our stable hands, taught me.”
“From what I hear, Mr. Benson is a pretty learned fellow,” he said, before carving a piece of his quail and popping it in his mouth.
“Very. He’s taught me a good deal of his mother’s remedies, as well as some herbal medicine. It’s helped a great deal with the kittens and other small animals,” she said.
“That’s fine, but you use a physician if you become sick, I assume,” he said, looking concerned.
“Oh yes! But for small matters, knowing about herbal remedies helps. A doctor is a nice person, but he always wants to bleed a body. I don’t think that’s necessary,” she said, realizing she had probably said too much.
He smiled. “I see. Well, don’t worry. I’m not a supporter of that either. I think it weakens the body and the spirit. My brothers fought on the continent, and they returned with tales of wartime medicine—things they had seen and, sadly, experienced. I think things will change.”
“You must be proud of them,” she said, suddenly feeling a little shy.
He looked at her plate, which had been untouched. “You should eat! Cook has your favorite dessert coming!”
