Page 71 of The Duke and the Lady in Red
The duke didn’t like her feeling beholden to him. Harry found that interesting.
“You are welcome to spend time in any of the rooms, as often and as long as you like,” the duke said. “Except for my bedchamber.”
“Harry has difficulty traversing stairs,” Rose said.
“I assumed as much, based upon the current arrangements in your residence. I’ve had one of the rooms on the lower floor converted into a bedchamber. You should find everything you need, but don’t be shy about asking for anything you might require. I don’t mean to come off as vulgar, but money is no object.”
Beside him, Rose stiffened. She didn’t like it when people took coins for granted. “Take advantage, Harry. It may be the only time in our lives when money is no object.”
But it came with a price, of that he knew. He also knew Rose would never tell him the cost.
The coach pulled off the street and onto a cobbled path. Before them lay Buckland Palace. Harry knew his eyes were widening, his mouth was agape, because Rose was correct.
It was a palace. For a while, he would live here.
Rose clung to Harry’s arm as he used his walking stick to transport himself from the carriage to the residence. Avendale was near her, carefully watching as though he feared her brother might topple her over. But when they went through the door, stepped into the foyer, she felt the excitement and wonder thrum through Harry as he took in the high ceiling, the sweeping staircase, the paintings, the glamour of it all.
Two footmen were already scurrying down a hallway, Harry’s trunk in tow. If they had caught sight of him beneath the hood of his cloak, they gave no indication. But the morning was only just beginning, the fog hampering the arrival of sunlight. Perhaps they hadn’t gotten a good look.
Thatcher stepped forward; a young footman—whom she had never seen—stood at attention slightly behind him. She suspected Avendale had a good many servants she’d never set eyes on before.
“Your Grace, all is prepared as you requested,” Thatcher said, before turning to Rose. “Welcome back, miss.” He shifted his gaze slightly. “Welcome to Buckland Palace, Mr. Longmore.”
Harry pushed back his hood. “I’m pleased to be here.”
Neither Thatcher nor the young footman indicated anything amiss. No gasps, no widening of eyes, no stepping back. They both reacted not at all.
Twisting slightly, Thatcher said, “This is Gerald. He’ll be attending to your needs while you’re in residence.”
“Thank you.”
Rose was amazed that there was no awkwardness. She wondered precisely what Avendale had told his staff. She doubted he’d tell her if she asked.
“Harry, would you like a tour of the place before we sit down to breakfast?” Avendale asked.
Harry nodded slightly, and Rose fought not to be nervous. Everything was going splendidly well, but she had come to expect that trouble rested just below the surface.
“Shall I take your cloak, Mr. Longmore?” Gerald asked, stepping forward, hand extended.
Shifting his cane to his bad hand, Harry managed to loosen the button on his cloak with his good hand. Rose wanted to help him, but she understood his pride, so she waited patiently while he awkwardly removed it and held it out to the footman.
Gerald took it, draped it over his arm. “While you’re touring, I shall see to putting your things away if you’ve no objection.”
“Thank you.”
Gerald exchanged a nod with Avendale before heading for the hallway that led into the wing where Harry would reside.
“I shall ensure that all is readied for breakfast,” Thatcher announced, then he, too, was gone.
“Let’s start to get you familiar with the place, shall we?” Avendale asked. “Although I suggest you keep Gerald near should you decide to go wandering. It’s quite easy to get lost in the maze of hallways.”
He led the way with a leisurely gait that didn’t leave Harry behind. He explained things as he went, much as he had with her. As Harry walked beside her, Rose was very much aware of his awe and wonder. She wished she could take him on a tour around the world.
Then they entered Avendale’s library. Harry gasped. Rose realized that within the pages of all the books here, Harry would travel farther than she could ever take him. Cautiously he approached the shelves, placed his good hand on the leather spine of several books.
“Look at them, Rose.”
“They’re yours to read while you’re here,” she assured him.
