Page 16 of Her Tiger of a Duke
“Thank you,” Beatrice said gently. “But I am more than capable of doing that myself.”
“Of course, but if you do everything then you shall have no use for me.”
With that in mind, Beatrice did not intercede again and allowed Ella to continue with her work.
“Do you know much about His Grace?” Beatrice asked. “I suppose that you have only just arrived in the way that I have.”
“Indeed, although I have heard from the other servants that he is a good man. You likely know that for yourself, though, or else you would not have married him.”
Beatrice agreed aloud, but she knew the truth. It did not matter what the Duke was like; after her antics, she would have had to marry him regardless.
“He is also generous,” Ella continued. “And from what I can tell, that is because he wishes to be different from his father. I cannot be certain of that, though.”
“Do you know much of the Late Duke? Truthfully, I know so little about my husband and his family that you, having been here just a bit longer, will know more about him from spending five minutes with Mrs. Forsythe than I do having married him.”
She had meant for the comment to be light-hearted, but even she heard the melancholy in it. She was married to a stranger, and there was no changing that fact when he wished for them to remain separated.
“I have not asked about him, and I have not been told anything, either. You shall have your tour tomorrow, though, so I amcertain that you will have the chance to ask plenty of questions then.”
Ella slid a comb through Beatrice’s hair until it was free of the tangles of the day. With that, she was ready for bed, though suddenly she did not feel like sleeping. She thanked Ella, who slipped out of the room after assuring her that she would help her with anything that she needed, and lay on her bed with a deep exhale.
Her first day was done, and the next would come soon after she closed her eyes to rest. She let herself fall asleep, her body far more tired than her mind.
She awoke as sunlight streamed through the window, and she stretched beneath the bedcovers before pulling them off herself. She considered dressing herself but decided against it and instead called for Ella. If it was what was now expected of her, she would go along with it. Her lady's maid arrived quickly, dutifully helping her into her gown for breakfast and fixing her hair into place.
Beatrice looked in the mirror hoping to see a duchess, but it was still just her. Round faced and plain, childlike in spite of her age. She frowned, wishing that she could do something to fix it.
“Is it not to your liking?” Ella asked. “I am more than happy to do it again.”
“No, it is beautiful. Thank you, Ella.”
She went to breakfast with the sound of her skirts echoing in her ears. She was wary of seeing Owen again after she had left him unceremoniously at dinner, but when she arrived in the dining room, he was seated at the head of the table smiling at her.
“I was hoping that you would join me,” he greeted. “You look nice.”
Nice.It was how everyone described Beatrice. Never pretty, nor interesting, nor even good. She was simplynice. It kept her from desiring a match for the longest time, because in comparison to her bright and beautiful friends, being nice simply was not good enough.
Emma was bold, fiercely protective of her sister. Dorothy was intelligent, fascinated by plants. Cecilia was outspoken, a bluestocking who wore the name with pride rather than shame. Beatrice was the fourth friend, quick with a joke or some advice but never the center of attention. It did not matter how many times she claimed not to care about that, she did. She did, and it burned in her chest.
“Are you all right?” Owen asked, bringing her attention back to the breakfast table.
“Yes, yes I am,” she said quickly. “I am simply still rather tired from yesterday, not to mention the week as a whole. It has all been so sudden, and though I am pleased that it has happened,I am also happy to leave all of it behind and continue alone just like you said.”
“I did not say that you would be alone; I said that we would lead separate lives, and I did not mean to upset you.”
“You did not.”
“You left the room, Beatrice. Do not feign nonchalance when it is so alarmingly clear that you do care. What I meant yesterday was that you are under no obligation to behave like a good little wife under our own roof. You were Beatrice before, and you are still her. You have not become someone else simply because there is now a ring on your finger.”
“And you are certain that is what you meant, and you are not merely trying to appease me?”
“I would not do that.”
She twisted the ring on her finger, looking at her empty plate. A servant came and began offering her pieces of meat and fruit, and she accepted them happily even though she could not taste anything.
“When were you thinking of using the kitchens?” he asked. “They are often in use, you see, and so we would have to make the time.”
“It is all right. I will not be using them for a while. I should like to adapt to my role first and then reintroduce my interests.”
