Page 10 of The Duke Who Loved a Widow
Absolutely ridiculous, he told himself. I’ve only just met her, and have no desire to ever set eyes on her again. Except he knew at some level, deep down, that this was not the case. He felt a strange desire to stay close to this young woman.
Telling himself not to be so fanciful and get a grip on his reaction to this woman, Robert became haughty and condescending.
“I bid you good day and trust you will instruct your son not to put himself and others in danger in future.” He turned his back on her, walking towards his horse and needing to distance himself from this incident. His body ached as he mounted the mare and clicked his heels to walk on up the track.
He felt a strange compulsion to look around and take a final glance at the willowy figure with the startling jade eyes, but he willed himself to keep looking forward.
As the turrets of Castle Montbury loomed closer, he put the dog incident from his mind. His bruised body ached, and hewas not in the best of tempers. It seemed a long time since he had left the Talbot Inn early that same morning.
A groom ran out to take his horse as he rode into the stable yard. “Welcome home, Your Lordship,” came the warm welcome. “We expected you to arrive by carriage.”
He explained the mishap with the barouche carriage and informed the groom that the others would arrive either later that day or in the morning. Robert also told the groom about the horse bolting and to make sure to settle it and care for it before arranging to return it to the coaching inn in York.
As he strode towards the entrance to Castle Montbury, he marvelled, as he always had since being a boy, that he lived in a fairy tale medieval castle with turrets, battlements, and even a drawbridge over a moat, with a working portcullis from those ancient days.
He stepped into the great hall; its austere limestone walls must have been the same several centuries earlier when the castle had been under siege. In the Civil War, it had escaped demolition by Oliver Cromwell and somehow survived to be one of the finest castles in the country.
Mr Chalston, the butler, greeted him, noticing his dishevelled condition, soaked to the skin and covered in mud.
I must look a sight. If I were anyone else, I’m convinced Chalston would not allow me in.
Suddenly, there was a shout, and a small boy raced towards him. Robert reached down to hug the little boy and swing him high into the air. The child squealed in delight. “Uncle Robert, Uncle Robert, you’ve come home.”
“Frederick Rathby, you’re growing too quickly … but I can still swing you round and round.”
“You’re all wet and muddy,” called Frederick.
Robert turned to see his sister, Elinor, standing smiling at him, delighted to see him. He realized then that he had missed his family after his self-imposed exile, coping with Rosalind jilting him.
He took Elinor’s hands in his. “You’re well, sister?”
She nodded warmly. “Someone is glad to see their uncle.”
“And the colonel?” he asked. Although Napoleon was defeated, Elinor’s husband, Colonel Rathby, remained in Belgium with the Duke of Wellington.
“Well, brother. Still in Belgium, but he hopes to be released from duty to return next year.”
His heart sank as he heard his mother’s voice. He’d hoped to be upstairs before she saw him and commented on the mud.
She stood quietly, waiting for him to acknowledge her formally. The Dowager Duchess Helena Montbury believed in formality and tradition.
He bowed his head. “Mother. I trust you are well?”
“Well, and glad to see you, my son.” She peered at him, noticing the state of his clothes and hair. “What on earth happened to you? You’re filthy. I hope you don’t plan on appearing at dinner in that state?”
“Of course not, Mama. I’ll explain later. I’ve a few stories to tell you and Elinor about my journey north.”
“I’ll get Ben Jackson to fill a bath for you. He can valet for you while you’re here. And yes, I know you look after yourself in town, but under this roof, you need to behave as a duke and have a gentleman’s gentleman to help you dress and care for your clothes.”
Later, while soaking in a steaming hot mustard bath, he felt relief from the aches and pains in his bruised body. Heclosed his eyes, inhaling the steam, feeling the day’s tension dissolve.
His thoughts drifted to the forest path and a small boy, a spaniel, and a woman with a fair complexion and the greenest of green eyes.
He felt a pang of guilt at the way he had spoken to her. She had flinched from his words as though they hurt her physically.
All I was trying to do was make her realize how dangerous it can be and to stop her child sitting in the middle of the cart track.
But she showed genuine concern when she had knelt beside him, her skirts in the mud. He remembered the fragrance of her perfume, an attar of damask roses.
