Nicholas’s sharp intake of breath told Grace she’d caught him off guard, and she straightened, wanting nothing more than to wrap her arms around him. “Will you have breakfast with me?” she asked carefully, moving to the wardrobe that held her dresses.
The door closing behind her was her only response, and Grace pressed her forehead to the cool wood, her shoulders slumping. He had sought her out, but only to tell her to mind her own business and stay out of his way.
Well if her husband thought she was that much of a damn ninnyhammer, he was in for a grave shock.
∞∞∞
The discovery that her husband had left with nary a word spoken to her had her spitting feathers. For the first time since she’d become mistress of this mausoleum, Grace felt her anger begin to stir. She had done nothing for him to treat her so. His troubled mind did not give him an excuse for boorish behaviour.
He had intimated he wished her to stay out of his way. Well, disappearing to Scotland without telling her was certainly an excellent way to belabour his point. Well, two could play at that game.
Resolutely she put her ill-mannered husband out of her mind and determined she would learn everything she could about the house she was now mistress of, and mayhap learn a little aboutwhat was expected of her. For the next two weeks, she explored the house from top to bottom, seeking out all its hidden nooks and crannies. When she wasn’t exploring, she spent most of her time in the library reading about Blackmore’s history. Sections of the house were clearly very old, and it had more than its fair share of gruesome legends.
She also wrote to her husband, enquiring after his health and intimating she was missing his company.
After discovering everything she could about her new home, Grace decided to move on to exploring the grounds which were much more extensive than she’d imagined. Luckily, the weather remained warm and sunny, and she enjoyed many an hour wandering the formal gardens and learning about the herbs in the kitchen garden. When she wasn’t exploring, she spent her time reading under her favourite tree in the orchard.
She also wrote again to her husband, enquiring after his health and this time intimating her distress that he would stay away from Blackmore and his wife for such an extended period.
To both letters, she received neither reply nor acknowledgement, and by the time a full month had passed with no word, Grace had finally had enough. It had become abundantly clear that her husband held her in scant regard and was unwilling to show her even the slightest consideration or courtesy that was fitting as his wife and Duchess.
If Nicholas didn’t think she was good enough to be his wife, then what was the use in trying to be anything other than she was. She might now be the Duchess of Blackmore, but her husband clearly did not regard her as such. Well, she was still Grace Shackleford, and she’d be damned if she would continue to try and change herself to accommodate a man who plainly had no interest in her.
If and when he wanted her help, she would willingly give it, but until then, she was done trying to make herself into somethingshe was not.
Instead of looking to dress in something that would please her husband on the off chance he returned, Grace put on her most comfortable gown and went downstairs to pen a letter to her sisters.
Chapter Nine
Reverend Shackleford was a troubled man. He was very much afeared his eldest daughter had become completely addled. She appeared to have lost whatever small sense of decorum she’d possessed and was now running wild around the countryside as though she had nary a care in the world with her siblings in willing tow.
The Reverend was sure the absence of her husband was very much at the forefront of her riotous behaviour, and should the Duke ever decide to return, this wildness would cease immediately. The problem was, it might also result in his daughter being sent away in disgrace. Sighing, Reverend Shackleford saw all his aspirations about to be trampled in the dust. He couldn’t even reprimand Grace, since she now far outstripped him in rank.
This called for some kind of action. The problem was, he had no idea what action to take. Should he write a letter to his son-in-law urging his immediate return to Blackmore? Could a mere clergyman urge a duke to do anything at all?
Tare an’ hounds, he was in the suds and no mistake. So far, he’d managed to keep the sorry state of affairs from Agnes, which hadn’t been too difficult since she generally only moved from the sofa to her bed, and up to now she’d not questioned the reason why silence suddenly reigned in the house for most of the day. The problem was, in two days hence, little Anthony was duehis monthly ‘afternoon’ with his mama, and it was certain the catastrophe would then be out in the open. It was no good him trying to come up with some kind of cock and bull story – she could spot a Canterbury tale a mile away.
If Agnes found out, his life would truly not be worth living. Clambering to his feet, he resolved to seek out Percy. Two heads were always better than one, and he always seemed to come up with his best plans when prompted by his curate. The Red Lion would ensure complete privacy while they came up with a strategy. Calling Freddy to him, he hurried out of the house before Agnes could ask for her salts.
Two hours and three tankards of ale later, neither man had come up with anything remotely useful. The Reverend was beginning to think his only option was to lock all eight daughters up until Grace’s husband decided to come home. However, that wouldn’t stop the gossipmongers from having a field day the minute his grace stepped foot back in Blackmore. That was providing the sordid details hadn’t already reached him in Scotland. The Reverend felt his collar tighten uncomfortably at the notion of what the Duke would do once he found out.
What they needed was something to replace the gossip. Something that would overtake the current preoccupation with the Duchess of Blackmore’s scandalous behaviour.
“We could pay someone to kidnap her?” Percy offered desperately when the silence became too oppressive.
The Reverend paused with his ale halfway to his mouth. Staring into its amber depths, his eyes narrowed in a way that curdled the recently consumed steak pie ominously in the pit of Percy’s stomach.
∞∞∞
Grace retied her long hair in its ribbon as she hurried roundthe side of the house towards the kitchen. She was hot and tired and was hoping the cook, Mrs. Higgins, had made some of her delicious lemonade. She was looking forward to spending a peaceful half hour in the sanctuary of the kitchen before dressing for dinner – a custom she still found tiresome in the extreme. Especially when she spent every evening meal alone in the silence with only a book for company.
While the housekeeper had initially voiced her disapproval at the idea of a duchess spending time in the kitchen, Grace knew both Mrs Tenner and Mrs Higgins secretly enjoyed her company, and over the last two months, she’d spent many an hour learning how to both cook and look after a house. While the latter was certainly a desired skill of a chatelaine of such a large mansion, as a duchess, she didn’t need any of the former skills. That said, at least if she managed to persuade her husband to banish her, she would be able to look after herself and her sisters. The thought of having a small house somewhere with her siblings was becoming more and more appealing. Much more so than living a lonely life in solitary grandeur.
As the weeks went by with no word from Nicholas, she had finally accepted that her husband had no intention of making her his wife in the fullest sense of the word, or indeed allowing any closeness between them. If she was to be denied the solace of children, she had decided she would do her utmost to ensure a future for herself elsewhere. She knew the Duke of Blackmore would be very unlikely to divorce her given the scandal it would cause to his family name, but if she continued with her current course of action, he would be certain to wish her out of his sight.
So, she’d enlisted the willing help of her siblings, and together, they had occupied themselves in all manner of dubious activities as publicly as possible in the hope that word of their conduct would reach her husband’s ears. Today had seen all nine of them hiding in a hay cart, jumping out and nearly giving the unsuspecting farmer an apoplexy as hebegan to unload.
So far unfortunately, while they were clearly the talk of the village, the gossip didn’t appear to have travelled any further, and Grace had no idea what else to do to get her absent husband’s attention.
