“I will come to Ashbourne,” he conceded as he put the cup back onto the tray. “We can call at the Albany for my things on the way.”
A visit to Ashbourne Castle was certainly easier to countenance than going back to Rose at Ravenhill House…
“Your Graces,” the venerable white-haired butler greeted the two dukes when they arrived at Ashbourne Castle’s front door a few hours later. “Shall I arrange some food in the library where there is already a fire burning? The rest of the household ate luncheon at the usual hour.”
“Yes, if you would, Chiverton. Have my valet draw a bath for the Duke of Ravenhill too, and bring the shaving kit up to his room.”
Dorian himself was not sure he could eat anything yet but Cassius spoke very certainly and he knew he should try to keep his friend and host company in any meal. It might assuage Cassius’ stated worries about Dorian too.
“Very good, Your Grace,” nodded the dignified manservant. “Will that be all?”
“Yes, for now. Is everyone else in the drawing room?”
“The ladies went out for a walk in the grounds after luncheon. Her Grace’s sister Lady Elmridge has come for the afternoon. The Duke of Hawcrest is attending them.”
Cassius Emerton thanked and dismissed his butler, satisfied with this report. Dorian too was glad not to have to face anyone but his friend just yet. While not vain, he had always considered deliberate dishevelment only a different kind of conceit and was keen to restore himself to his normal order before greeting.
“Dorian, before the ladies return, I should tell you…” Cassius began to speak carefully but the Duke of Ravenhill cut across him, pleased with the butler’s report on Ashbourne’s other present guests.
“So, Levi Collins is here and we need not wait to meet until he is in London next week,” Dorian commented as Cassius led him into the library and gestured him to a comfortable seat before the fire. “Very good. Is he staying long?”
“Only a day or two. He mainly wanted to consult me about a new steward for his estate and see how we manage things here in practice. The old steward at Hawcrest has apparently been fiddling the books and mismanaging the rents. Levi has rightly given the man his marching orders but the Dowager Duchess of Hawcrest and her clan are up in arms all over again.”
“They were happy for the old duke and his tenants to be robbed blind, were they?” Dorian asked contemptuously. “Well, I wish the new Duke of Hawcrest luck in his dealings with them.”
“I’m sure Levi will manage well enough, with or without luck. Once he has set his mind to something, he tends not to stop. All the Dowager Duchess of Hawcrest’s needling and insults about his low birth slide off him like water. No one will stop him putting Hawcrest into good order.”
“He sounds like a man after my own heart,” commented Dorian with a smile. “I look forward to making his acquaintance.”
When an Ashbourne Castle maid brought in a tray piled with freshly baked bread, cheese and ham, Dorian suddenly realized that he was very hungry after all.
When the food was gone and a footman came to announce that his bath was ready, Dorian rose and stretched.
“There is one more thing I should tell you, Dorian, before the rest of the party return from their walk,” said Cassius, his expression growing serious again as he accompanied his guest to the library door.
“Let it wait until I am an entirely civilized human being once more,” put in the Duke of Ravenhill, politely but firmly, smiling but taking hold of the library door handle. “Then you shall have my full attention.”
“Be it on your own head,” warned the Duke of Ashbourne, letting him go.
Already knowing the house well, Dorian went upstairs to his usual room as Cassius looked after him with folded arms and a meditative expression.
An hour later, washed, shaved and dressed in clean clothes, Dorian felt almost restored to normality. He could almost imagine that he was still at the Ashbourne Castle house party last autumn and everything since then had been a peculiar dream.
What if he had never met Lady Rose Williams, never married her against both of their inclinations, and certainly never bedded her with such extreme pleasure?
Descending the stairs with this conceit in his mind, Dorian was briefly free again. He found, however, that this imaginary state did not bring the expected relief. Instead, the thought of a life without Rose was stagnant and empty. It felt like a hackneyed and repetitive play where the cast was only going through the motions, again and again, without real feeling or creativity.
This realization that he did not really wish to live without his wife baffled and unnerved him for a few moments. Then, on turning to the last flight of stairs, Dorian saw a sight in the hallway below that stopped him dead and wiped all such theoretical musings from his head.
Three women and one man in outdoor clothing had just come in from the gardens, evidently Josephine and her guests returning from a long post-luncheon walk. The single man in the party supported a young blonde-haired woman on his arm, his attitude solicitous and her face very pale and tired as though the exertion had exhausted her more than the others.
Dorian had known or guests at the identities of all the party at a single glance but his attention was all for the blonde woman who should not have been there at all. His blood flooded with welcome for the sight of her but also concern, and an immediate resentment for the man at her side.
“Rose!” he exclaimed, hastily descending the stairs. “What are you doing here?”
Was she ill? Had the fall from Clio been more serious than Dorian had realized after all, and Josephine had brought her here to convalesce? The guilt that question could arouse was almost crippling.
“Dorian!” Rose responded to his call in equal surprise, her large blue eyes opening wide at the sight of him, quickly filled with welcome and relief. “You’re here. I did not know. How good that you are here!”
