Page 35 of The Beastly Duke's Christmas Bride
While he had been able to put aside the sound of her fear on that night they met when she was attacked, by some mild miracle, Sebastian was haunted that night in bed with her voice refusing an offer.
An innocent-sounding offer that was clearly anything but.
Thomas Ravenshaw.
Seeing as he hadn’t been brave enough to face his wife over unspoken topics that eventually needed to be addressed, Sebastian told himself a temporary reprieve was permitted. Besides, she needed some time to herself after a busy few days after her friend’s visit, surely.
“Mrs. Maple?”
The housekeeper jumped, shrieking. He winced as she turned around to stare at him with wide eyes. Stepping out of his office onto the carpet hadn’t caused a sound when he called to the woman.
“Your Grace.” She swallowed hard. “My… my sincerest apologies.”
“It’s entirely my fault,” he reassured her with a shake of his head. “I merely wanted to inquire if any old newspapers might be kept somewhere in the house.”
Straightening her skirts, the housekeeper took a few steps forward. Her shock from a second ago was momentary. By the time she was near, there was that reserved smile on her face.
“Yes, I believe we keep most papers up in a storage room by the cellar.”
“That’s an odd place for paper.”
Her gaze skirted down. “The household enjoys reading the newspaper when it comes.”
After the lord has read it, she means. Everyone takes a turn. Have I been taking any of them with me? Best keep an eye on that so I don’t get in their way of reading.
“Very good,” he said, not wanting her to think there was any need for punishment. The smarter the staff, he liked to believe, the better they ran a house. “Could you perhaps deliver everything from this entire year?”
Those eyes of hers widened further. “The entire year?”
“Eleven and a half months, yes. There is no rush, but I should like them by the end of the day,” Sebastian added encouragingly.
“Very well, Your Grace. I shall see what we can do.”
Back into his study he went. It was growing more comfortable in there every day he spent inside. And he was spending more days here than expected. While tempted to return to London once again, Sebastian reminded himself of his decision when he had left last––he had to work on this marriage with Isabel.
And the best way to work someone is to know the person.
“Your Grace?” Once of the footmen appeared with a wooden box in hand. “You asked for the old newspapers?”
“I did, yes. Come inside.” Seeing the man struggling, Sebastian took the box from him with ease. They both ignored the young man’s reddening ears. Once the box was situated beside the two chairs by the fire, he waved to it. “Can you read?”
Fernsworth, he thought the lad’s name was. “I suppose so, yes. Yes, I can,” he added more confidently at Sebastian’s raised eyebrow.
“Close the door and join me, then. It’ll go faster.”
“Your Grace?”
“What is your name?”
Still bewildered and awkward on his feet, the footman glanced warily around the room before looking back at him. It seemed Sebastian was surprising everyone again. Or regularly. Did they keep expecting some specific behavior from him?
Sebastian nodded. “Well?”
“Todd. Todd Fernsworth. Your Grace,” the footman added.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Fernsworth. Please take a seat since you’ll want to get comfortable.” Sebastian pulled out what he assumed would be a third of the newspapers to stack them on the sofa just as the footman cautiously sat on the very end of the sofa. “Comfortable?”
Fernsworth eyed the papers beside him before looking up. It took a second, but then he finally shifted further back. “Yes, Your Grace.”
