Page 30 of An Accidental Bride for the Duke
For now, it was companionable. They spoke kindly to each other. They no longer fought and argued. They both seemed to be of the mind that this marriage, for how it had started, might lead to so much more and if there was a chance of such a thing then it needed to be explored. A chance taken that neither thought they wanted but were now edging closer toward with each passing day.
Did Iris miss the arguing? Yes, only for the most obvious of reasons. But she was determined not to focus too much on that, figuring that for now being kind to one another and treating this relationship with respect was what mattered most.
With that in mind, what might have appeared as nothing more than a casual visit to the local village was so much more than that.
Despite everything, this marriage is starting to feel like it has real promise. And if I want such a thing, which I think that I do, I need to prove it. No more half-measures.
Iris was a duchess now. This village was a part of her realm. No doubt its villagers had known the duke his entire life, as he had known them. It was time they got to know her as well.
Finishing with her breakfast, Iris washed herself, put on her day wear and left the manor in her rear. Philip was out for the day, and she was excited to see him this evening and tell him where she had been. Further proof, she believed, that she was taking this marriage seriously. Hopefully also, it would give the duke permission to do the same.
“I really do wish you would reconsider,” Mr. Tibbitt urged her as he followed Iris from the front of the manor. “Just until His Grace returns.”
“Nonsense,” she said and waved him down. “If he arrives home before I do, tell him I should be back well before evening.”
“How about I join you? A lady should not be?—”
“I will be fine,” she sighed. “I do not need to be watched like a helpless child.” She folded her arms and cocked an eyebrow at Mr. Tibbitt.
He grimaced. “As you say, Your Grace.”
She sighed again and shook her head at the theatrics. Where Iris appreciated his concern, she also found it a little annoying. Having spent her entire life being looked after like a baby bird, now that she was married, she was eager to assert herself and prove that she was as capable as everyone else.
And that is exactly what she did.
The half mile walk into the village was pleasant and without incident. A straight path, the road did not bend or rise, and soon enough she spied the little village which sat in an open glade and spread back for half a mile toward the horizon. It was just a few streets, a few dozen homes and storefronts, and scores of villagers already well into the throes of their day.
“Good morning,” Iris beamed as she entered the village’s main square. There were a young man and his son walking together, carrying between them a pail of water. “It is a lovely day, this one.”
The young boy’s eyes widened, and he almost dropped the pail.
“Y—Your Grace!” The young man moved to bow but Iris held out her hands to stop him.
“Please, no need for that.”
“It is not a problem!”
“It is for me,” she said with a smile. “Truly, I just wanted to say good morning.”
The young man and his son could not have looked more surprised. They stammered their thank yous and were quick to hurry away. She watched them go, confused but also amused. Iris had never visited a small village like this one and she had heard that folk such as these were friendly but a little wary of strangers.
I suppose I am about to find out.
Word of her arrival soon spread through the village. Not a surprise, as she was dressed finely and far cleaner than most she walked by. And with a population as small as this village, she stood out like a sore thumb. But with word of her sudden visit came whispers of who she was and as everyone knew their Duke had recently married, it stood to reason that they would welcome her with open arms.
It helped also that Iris was as friendly as they came and happy to show it.
She spent the morning wandering the markets. It was a small affair, just a few stalls selling fruits and local produce. But she spoke to each owner, even promising that from now on the duke would buy his wares from their stalls.
“Are you sure, Your Grace?” the owner of a vegetable stand, an older farmer, asked in shock. His wares were mostly potatoes, nothing particularly exciting, but she could tell how much it meant to him.
“Of course,” she assured the farmer. “Truly, I am surprised he doesn’t purchase from you already.”
“Oh…” the farmer blinked awkwardly. “As I understand it, His Grace orders most of his wares from London City—not that we mind. I don’t want him thinking we’re complaining…”
“And you aren’t,” she assured him. “Surely, he will be happy to. In fact, I know it.”
From there, Iris found herself at a small modiste, which itself was a surprise as she did not think a village like this one would have such a shop as that. But seeing an opportunity, she decided to take advantage.
