Page 39 of The Scottish Duke Tames the Bluestocking
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Ainsley said in surprise when she made her way to the kitchen the next morning. “How can I help you?”
Harriet looked at the older woman earnestly, trying to hide how out of sorts she felt. “I... Well, His Grace and Abigail both told me that you are the one running the household and that... well, I suppose I ought to learn how to do that,” she managed to ramble out and Mrs. Ainsley nodded, a proud grin appearing on her face.
“Indeed, Your Grace,” she agreed with a gentle smile. “The most important thing to start doing is manage the servants - we have quite a few of them, but His Grace didn’t want too many. All in all, we have eleven people working in the manor. Treat them with care, but be stern: remember, you are the one in charge here.”
There was a lot to learn, Harriet found quickly - though her favorite of the tasks was, without doubt, the choice of menu each week.
This was something, she learned, that was done every Sunday morning - and on her first day to join the cooks, Harriet was out of bed early, eager to share ideas.
They had barely started reviewing the menu when a familiar, deep voice interrupted her thoughts. “Good morning, Harriet.”
The voice startled her and she jumped, nearly upending the inkwell on the table. Hugh stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame.
“I dinnae mean to startle ye,” he said, a hint of amusement in his tone. Harriet could feel the heat creeping up her neck.
“Not at all,” she muttered and fixed her eyes on the table. “I was just finishing up here.”
She gathered the papers, careful not to meet his eyes. “Was there something you needed?”
Hugh cleared his throat. “I thought... it is Sunday and I daenae have a lot of work to do. I thought perhaps we could take a turn in the gardens together. It is, after all, a lovely day.”
Panic fluttered in Harriet’s chest at this. Spending time alone with Hugh was the last thing she wanted - she couldn’t risk it. “Oh,” she said, keeping her tone light. “I am afraid I can’t. I... promised Abigail I would help her with embroidery this morning.”
She mentally reminded herself to ensure that Abigail heard of this. Hugh’s brow furrowed slightly.
“I see. Another time then.”
Harriet nodded, and relief washed over her as she turned to leave. She hated the deception - in truth, her entire being yearned to take this walk with him. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t risk losing her heart to him.
And so, she made her way to Abigail’s bedchamber hurriedly. Of course, she reckoned, it was vital that Hugh believe her story about helping Abigail with embroidery - which was how she found herself sitting next to her sister-in-law, doing exactly that for the rest of the day.
Being a duchess, Harriet found soon, was far busier than she had imagined: especially one that had far fewer servants than most. This, Harriet had found out, was a choice made by the old duke, and both Hugh and Abigail had been taught to be far more hands on than Harriet ever was.
That was why Harriet found herself measuring out dried herbs for sachets. The housekeeper had taught her how a well-placed sachet could not only keep linens fresh, but also discourage pests - and in another desperate move to avoid her husband, Harriet had quickly decided that this was a task she would take upon herself. It helped, of course, that she found the work quite soothing: finding her frayed nerves calmed by the earthy scent of lavender and rosemary.
“There you are.”
A sachet dropped to the ground, her peace shattered by the sound of Hugh’s voice, and Harriet blushed furiously as she glanced at him where he leaned against the doorframe, a half-smile playing about his lips. “I feel like I have hardly seen ye since our marriage,” he teased.
Harriet shook as she filled the next sachet with herbs, nearly scattering more of it across the floor. “I... I’ve been busy,” she muttered, her words sounding strained. “There is a lot to learn about running a household.”
Hugh hesitated at this. “I am sorry,” he said carefully. “Perhaps I ought to have warned ye about the way me household is run. It is a bit more hands-on here than most manors, but I hear ye’ve not only learned that - according to Mrs. Ainsley, ye have taken to running the household quite splendidly. She sings yer praises.”
Harriet smiled rather proudly at this, though she averted her eyes in an attempt to hide this from her husband. In truth, it was harder work than she was used to. But she quite liked it.
“I’m just trying to do my part,” she said at last, her voice soft. At this, Hugh took a step into the room and Harriet fixed her gaze on the table.
“I admire yer dedication,” Hugh said softly. “But I do hope ye know ye can always depend on me as well. I daenae ken all about runnin' a household, but... we are a team, ye and I. I hope that... that ye will talk to me if ye need help or anythin'.”
Harriet looked up quickly, her face flushing when her eyes met his. The idea of going to him for help sent a shiver down her spine. She could not deny that the idea of being vulnerable in front of him was a terrifying one indeed.
“I... thank you,” she said at last. “I do appreciate it. But if you’ll excuse me, I really must see to the linens.”
Armed with the sachets of herbs in her hands, she tried to brush past him - though he caught her wrist and looked down at her earnestly.
“I know the manor is fairly large, lass,” he whispered. “But ye cannae keep running from me. Sooner or later, we will have to face one another.”
The words sent a shiver down her spine. She knew that he meant it rather innocently, but still... the thought of having to face him was one that she was not quite up to.
