Abruptly, she called for Jane, who arrived promptly, almost as though she had been waiting for the summons.
“Would you like some dinner, ma’am?” Jane asked.
“No. No, I—” Aurelia frowned, having briefly forgotten she hadn’t eaten. “No, thank you. That was not why I brought youhere. Find me the names of all the people in the village I might invite to Ravenhall Manor for a dinner.”
Jane’s eyes widened in surprise, but she merely bobbed a curtsy. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“I will write the invitations once you have the names, and you can organize sending them. Then,” Aurelia decided, thinking aloud, “we will go into the village and make some preparations. Perhaps I can order a new gown.” A village dressmaker would never be as good as a London one, but no matter—she would go to show her willingness. “I should also visit the poor. Have a basket made up tomorrow, and we shall go together.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Thus dismissed, Jane left the room, and Aurelia sat back against the pillows, her humiliation fading in the face of her resolve.
The duke might have been intent on making her life here as miserable as possible, but she would prove him wrong. She was not the quiet, meek little miss he no doubt thought he had married.No.She would not be trampled underfoot in his effort to keep her small.
She would carve out her place in this house as a powerful duchess—with or without his permission!
CHAPTER SEVEN
Afew days and a great deal of effort later, with invitations sent and the preparations in place for a grand dinner well underway—Aurelia had informed Cook tospare no expense—she set out for the village.
As she was a duchess now, she did not walk; it was not considered appropriate for a lady of her station to walk the three miles to the local village, Jane had provided helpfully.
As was becoming customary of her only real ally in Ravenhall.
The carriage ride took very little time, and she arrived at Swanstone, a small village perched on the cliff above the roiling sea. To one side stood a large, imposing lighthouse, and the moment Aurelia dismounted, she found her gaze drawn to it. The structure had evidently been recently built, and she had never seen one so large. The rounded walls were constructed from gray brick, and there were windows at the very top to allow ships to sight the enormous lamp warning them away from the rocks.
The village itself was larger than she had hoped, and she spent some time walking about the streets with Jane half a step behind her, exploring their surroundings. There was a market filled with fish and vegetables, the scent of raw fish almost overpowering. Stalls selling fresh bread shouted their wares at her. Nothing about Swanstone was as intimidating as London markets, which were rife with pickpockets, yet the noise stirred the same restless edge beneath her skin.
Cook would be handling all the purchasing of food from the local markets and butchers, so Aurelia passed through the market to the other shops, glass-fronted windows glittering and reflecting the light.
Whispers followed her. She glanced behind a few times but didn’t quite understand why.
Until the door before her face slammed shut.
A few people stared at her from across the street, their faces a mixture of disdain and pity. When she smiled at them, they turned their backs.
Sudden embarrassment flooded her. Did they think she was unworthy of being the duchess?
She moved on to the next shop—a haberdashery—but a man inside hurried to lock the door. Stomach squirming, Aurelia rapped on the glass.
“Hullo?” she called. “Are you not open? You were a few moments ago.”
The man stepped back, markedly embarrassed at having been caught in the act. “I—uh...” He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid we’ve just closed.”
“At this time? Why has everywhere else also closed?” she asked in exasperation. “Is it because I am the Duchess of Ravenhall?”
In the way the man’s face slackened, that had been entirely the reason. The only question waswhy. “Good day, Your Grace,” he said, backing away still further.
With a sigh, Aurelia turned and came face to face with a plump lady, a basket in her hands and her lips pinched tight. “Excuse the people of this village, ma’am,” she crowed. “You must be new here.”
“I am,” Aurelia replied, voice steady. “I’m the Duchess of Ravenhall.”
“We know who you are. All of us.” She nodded at her compatriots across the street and at all the other shut-up houses. “Here’s a tip, dear, if you wish to stay unnoticed, don’t show up in the duke’s coach with his bloody crest gleaming in the sun. No one will miss that, and news travels fast here.”
Aurelia furrowed her brows. “Why are you telling me this? Why is the duke so unpopular?”
The woman’s face twisted into a frown. “You don’t know, do you?”
