Page 15 of A Duke Under Her Spell
“She is resting comfortably now. The tea is working,” she reassured him.
“Thank the heavens that you were here to aid her in her time of need.” The gratitude he felt for her healing skills was plain on his face for all to see. “I do not know what we would do without you.”
“You would have found another healer, I suspect,” Marybeth humbly replied.
“Doubtful, Miss Wright, entirely doubtful.”
The Duke moved to sit on the edge of the bed, taking his mother’s hand in his own. His touch was so gentle that he did not wake her or even cause her to stir. Marybeth sat in the chair next to the bed and studied his face. He was a kind and loving man. That was made evident every time he came to visit his mother, as well as in the hours he spent in his workshop creating devices to make the Dowager Duchess’s life easier and more enjoyable.
At present the Duke was planning a trip to Bath so that his mother might take in the waters there. He had invited Marybeth to join them. She had never been to Bath and did not know what to expect, but she was fascinated by the idea of the ancient Roman baths and architecture. She wondered if the waters truly helped to restore health or if it was all a matter of wishful thinking. Either way she was excited. The Duke had told her of the city’s history and current culture, leaving her in a state of anticipatory curiosity.
“When do you hope to depart for Bath?” she asked quietly.
“Within the fortnight, Mother’s health permitting of course.”
“Of course,” she nodded her head in understanding.
The worry on the Duke’s face was heartbreaking. He released his mother’s hand, straightened her blankets, pulling them up over her chest, and then moved to the open window. He stared out across the grounds. “When I was but a boy, Mother would chase me around the gardens playing various games. My governess thought it to be most undignified and attempted to put a stop to it, but Mother would have none of it.”
“She sounds lovely, your mother.”
“Yes, she is,” the Duke agreed. “When all other ladies were sitting inside of their drawing rooms only seeing their children during certain hours of the day overseen by a governess, I was out playing with mine. She is my best friend. A better companion no man could ever ask for, but lately there has been a barrier between us.”
“A barrier?” Marybeth asked against her better judgement.
“Yes, she wishes for me to wed the Lady Cordelia Weatherton.”
“I see.” Marybeth did not know the lady in question, but her first impression at tea had not been a good one. She could not imagine a worse fit for the Duke.
“Our estates abut so it makes a great deal of geographical sense,” the Duke reasoned.
“Love is not a matter of geography, Your Grace,” Marybeth answered before she could think better of it.
“There is the familial alliance of two great houses as well.”
“But do you love her? Is she kind, caring, intelligent?”
The Duke looked at her curiously. “No, I do not love her, and I do not know if she is any of those things. If she is, she has yet to exhibit such qualities.”
“Do you not care about the lady’s character?” Marybeth knew that many men did not care if what her grandmother had told her bore any merit at all, but she could not imagine a man such as the Duke not caring.
“I care very much, but for me to wed Lady Cordelia is my mother’s last dying wish and I dare not disappoint her. If she were to die unhappy, I would never forgive myself.”
“You would throw away what remains of your life and any chance of future happiness simply to make your mother happy in her last days?”
“Yes, I would,” the Duke answered without bitterness or malice. Marybeth shook her head in sorrow for him. “You disapprove?”
“It is not my place to approve or disapprove of a Duke’s marriage plans.”
“But?”
“But since you desire my answer, I will give it. Yes, I disapprove. I believe that you deserve so much more than that, Your Grace. You are a man of heart and intellect. You deserve to wed someone with the same.”
“An unlikely find among the ton.”
“I think you sell my sex short, Your Grace.”
“No, not your sex, Miss Wright, but my class and station.”
