The Duke sent the carriage back to fetch a trunk of his things, which Theo helped him to carry up to his room. He quickly wrote a letter and stepped out of the house to talk to the coachman. “Deliver this directly to Mortimer, and don’t let anyone intercept the letter.” He couldn’t entirely trust the coachman, either. Who was to say he wouldn’t open the letter and read it himself in the meantime? So far, he’d had no indication that the coachman wasn’t loyal to him. It remained to be hoped that he was right.
When he returned to the room, he found Lena in it with a rag, furiously wiping the top of the dressing table.
“I merely remembered that the room hasn’t been dusted in a while since Marie left, and I wanted to, you know, clean it.” She cleared her throat again. “I thought I could do it while you were outside. Marie is our servant, but she isn’t here because she’s with her father. He’s very ill. We don’t have any other servants, I’m afraid. We can’t afford them. Simon never had a valet. He could do things for himself. You know, shave, dress himself.” She blushed once more.
She certainly talked a lot. That was another thingthat was different from her former incarnation. She fiddled with the string of her apron. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here without servants. You must have many servants.”
“I do.” He thought of his valet, butler, two footmen, two chambermaids, a cook, a coachman, and his secretary. That was a total of nine people who saw to his daily comfort. “But never fear, I shall survive on my own. I am entirely capable of looking after myself.” He paused. “Although I may need help with my boots, as they are rather difficult to take off.”
Lena’s face brightened. “I’m sure Theo will be able to help. All you need to do is call. We have no bells or anything here. If you want to talk to one of us, just call us.”
He had some difficulty imagining himself opening the door and hollering into the hallway for one of them.
“It is a simple room,” she apologised. “The dresser is here, and the wardrobe is there.” She pointed to each piece of furniture as if it were not entirely obvious that they were there. “And well, that is all there is to it.” She opened a drawer to the dresser and found some clothes inside. “Oh! I’ll have it cleared out right away.”
“Leave it,” he said. “It doesn’t matter.”
She stood in front of him, not meeting his eyes. “Simon never spent much time here as he was out with his patients all day. Here is the study.” She opened an adjoining door and stepped inside.
The study was as masculine an abode as could be. There was a desk by the window and another bookshelf. The fireplace was cold since it hadn’t been lit in along time. There was a slight smell of tobacco. It would do.
“What kind of man was Simon Arenheim?” he found himself asking.
Lena thought for a moment. “He was first and foremost a doctor.” Lena went to the window and looked out. “He was a very talented surgeon. A good father. He loved music, travel, and learning new languages. He played the violin. He always said that if he hadn’t become a surgeon, he would have been a musician. The children adored him. Theo wants to follow in his footsteps and become a physician because of him.”
“I see,” Julius replied, wholeheartedly wishing this Simon Arenheim to Jericho. “When did he pass away?”
“Simon was not young, you see. He should have retired long ago, but he refused. He worked all night in the hospital, and he must have overexerted himself. I wasn’t there, but they said he just collapsed.” She swallowed. “His heart stopped.”
“I am truly sorry,” he said, and as the words came out of his mouth, he realised how absurd they were, that he was offering condolences to his wife’s employer? Friend? Lover?
The situation was, indeed, absurd.
Lena gave him a tremulous smile. “We all have to go sometime, and it was Simon’s time to go. We are glad that it was quick and without much suffering. It was what he would have wanted.” She hesitated before continuing. “But you have to understand, for the younger boys, especially Hector, this has been verydifficult. This is no doubt the reason why he is acting the way he is towards you.”
“I understand.”
This would be harder than he thought. He wondered what he had got himself into and whether he had made a mistake coming here.
“Your Grace,” she suddenly, hesitantly.
“Julius,” he said. “That is my name. I think if we are alone together like this, we can dispense with the formalities.” As he said these words, he remembered that Catherine had never called him Julius. He had no memory of her doing so. He had always been Your Grace and Aldingbourne.
“Julius,” she said, looking up at him shyly.
Something painfully tightened in his chest. It was as if an iron fist was clenching his heart and squeezing it dry. What the deuce was that? Sadness? Longing? Regret?
He clenched his hands at his sides to prevent himself from reaching out and crushing her to him.
“Yes?” It came out rather hoarsely.
“I wanted to ask you something.”
He cleared his throat, trying to steady himself. “Go ahead.”
She took a deep breath, as if bracing herself. “Were we…” She bit her lip. Then she drew in a big breath and tried anew. “Were we…very much in love?”
An awkward silence hung between them, heavy and uncertain.
