Page 24 of Duke of Silver
And yet, despite her best efforts to prepare herself for his absence, a small part of her had held onto hope. Hope that perhaps this morning, he might surprise her, join her at the table, offer some gesture that they were more than just strangers bound by duty. But as she sat there, the hope faded, leaving behind a familiar ache of disappointment.
She straightened in her chair, forcing herself to maintain the composure expected of her new title. She was a Duchess now, and if nothing else, she would carry herself with the pride and dignity of one. Her emotions—whatever they might be—had no place in this moment. She took a steadying breath and resumed her breakfast.
At least there was cheese, she noted with a small, bittersweet smile. A familiar comfort in an unfamiliar world. She savored the rich flavor, using it to distract her from the hollow feeling growing inside her. If nothing else, she could count on the small pleasures of the morning meal.
The day would be a busy one, she reminded herself. Mrs. Ryton was due to give her a full tour of the house after breakfast, acquaint her with the daily workings of her new home. There would be no time to dwell on her husband’s absence. She had duties now, responsibilities that required her attention.
But before she could finish her meal and move on with her day, the butler appeared in the doorway, his expression composed as always. “Your Grace,” he began with a bow, “a caller has arrived.”
Elizabeth blinked, surprised. “A caller?”
“The Viscountess Compton,” the butler announced, his voice measured and polite.
Elizabeth set her fork down and stood, smoothing the front of her dress as she mentally prepared herself for an unexpectedvisit. She had heard of the Viscountess—a woman with a reputation for gossip and an insatiable curiosity. What could she possibly want so early in the day?
When Elizabeth entered the drawing room, the Viscountess was already standing, her round face flushed with excitement. She was a short, plump woman, her mass of red curls bouncing as she curtsied deeply, though her expression remained gleeful rather than respectful.
“Oh, pardon my manners and unannounced visit, Your Grace,” she exclaimed, her voice practically dripping with enthusiasm. “But once I heard the news of the new Duchess of Sterlin, I simply couldn’t stay still until I came to see for myself!”
Elizabeth offered a polite smile, though she could feel her patience already thinning. The Viscountess seemed to devour every detail of her appearance with eager eyes, her gaze lingering in a way that made Elizabeth feel like she was being inspected rather than greeted.
“And my, you are as beautiful as they say,” the Viscountess gushed before Elizabeth had a chance to respond.
The Viscountess was, Elizabeth was quickly coming to realize, a woman impatient with her words. There was a certain charm in her lack of restraint, and Elizabeth found herself amused by the unguarded nature of her guest.
“Oh, how flattering of them to say. And of you to agree,” Elizabeth remarked, offering a light chuckle as she motioned forthe Viscountess to take a seat. With a graceful gesture, she rang for tea, maintaining the poise expected of her new title.
“Oh, no flattery on my part whatsoever!” the Viscountess blurted, her stubby fingers shooting up to cover her mouth as her eyes widened in a comical display of belated self-awareness. “Oh, excuse my tongue again, Your Grace,” she added hastily.
Elizabeth felt a soft chuckle escape her before she could stop it, the candidness of the Viscountess catching her off guard in the most pleasant way. It was rare to encounter such openness, especially in a world where politeness often masked true thoughts. There was something refreshingly honest about Lady Compton’s unpolished nature, and Elizabeth found herself warming to her company despite the abruptness of her visit.
“I think there should be no shame in honesty,” Elizabeth said, her tone gentle yet thoughtful. “If anything, it ought to be appreciated.”
The Viscountess, if possible, turned an even deeper shade of red, her round cheeks nearly glowing against the vibrant hue of her hair. Elizabeth wondered if the woman’s complexion was naturally flushed or if her own words had caused such a reaction.
“Oh, finally, someone who agrees!” Lady Compton exclaimed with a sigh of relief. “When I talk, people just think I have too many words to spare.”
Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile more broadly. It was clear why people might feel that way—the Viscountess seemed tobe positively overflowing with conversation. But there was no malice in her words, only an enthusiasm that bordered on endearing.
“I felt it was only proper to call personally and give you a formal welcome, of course,” the Viscountess continued, her hands fluttering as she spoke, as though the force of her words needed physical accompaniment.
“And I do appreciate it,” Elizabeth replied, offering a gracious nod. There was a genuine warmth in her voice, even though the visit had been unexpected. It was a small reprieve from the silence of the morning, a silence she had not quite grown accustomed to yet.
“I was going to bring you some delightful biscuits my cook bakes,” the Viscountess added, her voice rising with excitement. “He makes the best in the village, you see. But my curiosity overthrew my generosity, I’m afraid, and I simply couldn’t wait for the batch to bake before I saw the new Duchess.”
Elizabeth’s smile deepened as she listened. Every word that fell from Lady Compton’s lips was spoken with such earnestness that Elizabeth couldn’t help but be charmed by it.
Perhaps life at Sterlin House wouldn’t be quite as miserable as she had initially feared. Not when there were entertaining visitors like the Viscountess of Compton, who seemed more than willing to fill her days with gossip—and even biscuits, once she finally brought them.
As if summoned by her thoughts, the butler entered just then, wheeling in a silver tray laden with tea and a variety of delicate pastries. Elizabeth offered a small smile as the teapot was set down, the warm, familiar scent of shortbread wafting through the room.
“Ah, perfect timing,” Lady Compton exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she reached for a piece of the crumbly confectionery. “My, these shortbreads rival cook’s!” she added with a delighted sigh after taking her first bite.
“I shall be sure to pass your compliment along to the cook,” Elizabeth replied, pouring the Viscountess a cup of tea with a smile. It was a small gesture, but she found herself grateful for the company, however unexpected.
The Viscountess took the tea eagerly, her words flowing as easily as the tea into her cup. “Oh, thank goodness for you, Your Grace. God knows this family deserves some light after that awful tragedy.”
Elizabeth’s hand paused for the briefest moment, the teapot poised in midair. Tragedy? She blinked, confusion flickering across her features. The Viscountess’s tone had shifted, the air growing heavier with the weight of something unsaid.
