Page 9 of A Duke Under Her Spell
“How long have your family lived there?” Oliver asked, as if he had never thought about it before that moment.
“Hundreds of years,” Marybeth answered. “As far as my grandmother knew, her family has always lived there since before the Norman invasion.”
“So, your family is as old as the Duke’s then, older maybe.”
“Yes, it would seem so.”
“I do not know anything about my family past my grandparents. My grandparents were in service. My mother was in service. Now, I am in service.” Oliver shrugged his shoulders as if that was all he needed to know. “My father was a seaman before he died.”
“I do not know who my father was. My grandmother refused to talk about him, and I was too young to remember my mother or my grandfather. Grandmother was all I ever had, all I ever needed really.” Marybeth shrugged her shoulders in much the same manner as Oliver had done. “’Tis irrelevant in the forest. You do not think it will cause difficulty at the manor house, do you?”
“The fact that you know not who your father was?”
“Yes.”
“As far as I am concerned it means nothing at all, but I know that most of society does not share my views on the subject. It shouldn’t come up, but if it does then you just ignore anything that those busy bodies say. The Duke and Duchess do not countenance gossip within their household and will not allow you to be mistreated for such a thing. If anything happens you just come and find me.”
Marybeth smiled and squeezed her arms around his torso a bit tighter in gratitude. “Have I told you lately that I love you, Oliver Singer?” she asked her friend, her good humor restored.
“Not since last week.” She could hear the grin in his voice even though she could not see it from behind him.
“That is much too long ago,” she proclaimed.
“Yes, I would have to agree, but now that we will be living so near one another you will be able to tell me every day,” he laughed, pleased with himself as if it had been he who had arranged her stay at Arkley Hall.
Marybeth laughed at his pleased tone. “With Grandmother gone, you are the only one I have left to say it to,” she sobered at the thought.
“I am honored, my lady of the forest.” Oliver picked up her hand from his abdomen and bringing it to his lips kissed it. “I love you too, Marybeth. Remember, my friend, you are never alone as long you have me.”
“Well then you had better live forever, hadn’t you?” Marybeth ordered.
“But of course,” he answered replacing her hand on his stomach. “What would all the ladies of Arkley Hall do without me?”
Marybeth chuckled. “Just the ladies of Arkley Hall?”
“Quite right, quite right. How could I have forgotten all of the other ladies of the county who depend so greatly upon the Singer charm? They would all most certainly be lost without me.”
“I am sure.” Marybeth leaned her head against his back, soothed by the sound of the horse’s hoof beats as they rode through the forest. She watched the forest pass them by, the leaves a brilliant green in the light, darker green in the shadows. The color reminded her of the Duke’s eyes. She had found them quite comforting, and yet disconcerting at the same time. She closed her eyes and could see him once again in the darkness behind her lids.
There is something about him, but I cannot quite say what it is.
She opened her eyes again and the image vanished, replaced by the wilderness she loved so much. She could not fathom being stuck inside of a grand house for months on end.
Perhaps I will return home twice a week instead of just the once.
The horse slowed as they approached the croft and Marybeth dismounted, walking into the house to gather all of the things that she might need. Oliver waited outside, allowing the horse to drink from the nearby stream. When she was done packing, she stood at the center of the croft’s main room and turned around in a circle, gazing at the remnants of the life she and her grandmother had once shared together.
I love you, Grandmother,her heart whispered to the specter of their shared past, then she turned and left the croft.I will return as soon as I am able.
Chapter 4
Felix pushed his masterpiece out onto the lawn and walked back and forth, testing the alignment and security of the wheels. The sound of a carriage coming up the drive interrupted his test as he realized that he had completely forgotten the Weatherton’s promise to call. He groaned inwardly at the thought of another tedious visit.
Perhaps if I could speak with Lady Cordelia alone, she might be a different person. She is certainly not Miss Wright.
The thought of comparing Lady Cordelia and Miss Wright caught him by surprise. They could not have been more opposite in character and demeanor if they had tried. One golden blonde and snobbish, the other wildly dark and caring. He found himself wishing that Miss Wright were a lady of noble birth. The maid’s words about Miss Wright’s conception flashed through his mind and he wondered if she was correct.
It is a marvel that such a tragic beginning could beget such a caring soul.He thought of the poor woman, her mother, who had been so violated as to take her own life. He wondered who the rapacious scoundrel was that could have done such a thing to her.Would I could run him through with my blade for his heinous deeds.
