“After breakfast, my lord?” said Beth a little squeakily. “Half-pastnine?”
He inclined his head and, after a sardonic look at the duke, returnedto his book.
Beth looked around the room. The duke was glaring at the marquess as ifhe would demand something more. The duchess was glancing between herhusband and son with concern. The marquess was ostensibly absorbed in hisbook. Beth found the atmosphere in this family so hard to bear. Was itjust this marriage, was it the past infidelities, or had it always beenso? She was surprised to find she would like to help them in some way,then put the thought away. She had enough to do to save herself and had nostrength to spare.
She quietly excused herself and escaped to her rooms.
In bed she considered the next day, a day to be spent in the marquess’scompany. Her nerves were already jumping at the thought. But perhaps, shethought, she would find an opportunity to undo the damage her silly wordshad caused. Then at least they could start afresh and seek to build somebasis for an honest marriage out of all this.
Though she had found her way about the dozen or so rooms in family use,the next day Beth realized she had not grasped the scale of the enterprisewhich was the Duchy of Belcraven. The marquess, on the other hand, knewthe great house from cool cellars to dusty attics. Despite his apparentarrogance, he knew of and understood all the servants who maintained theplace, and even knew many of their names.
They spoke with the butler, Morrisby; and the senior housemaid, Kelly;the head laundress, Margery Coombs; and one of the stillroom maids,Elspeth.
In addition, there were the many anonymous workers, some clearlystartled to find themselves face-to-face with one of the family. There wasthe clock winder, for example, and two men whose sole task was to passthrough the house trimming and replacing candles. There were thecarpenters, painters, masons, and roofers who worked constantly tomaintain the great house, the home farm, and the myriad of attendantbuildings. In addition to the services for the family ? the food, thelaundry, the house-cleaning ? all this had to be done as well for thethree hundred people who kept the machinery running. There were servantsfor the servants.
There was a brewery, a bakery, a vast laundry, and a bevy ofseamstresses. Soap was made and vinegar, and all the produce of the homefarm was cooked, preserved, or used in some manner.
The higher servants ? the estate manager, the steward, the groom of thechambers, and the housekeeper ? supervised the machine and lived in thestate of country gentry.
As he guided her around and explained all this, the marquess waspolite, so dauntingly polite that Beth found it impossible to raise apersonal subject.
After lunch the tour continued. They progressed through the kitchengardens and the orchards, the herb gardens and the succession-houses. Theypassed by the kennels full of hounds and on, by way of the farriery, tothe huge stables which housed forty horses and could accommodate a hundredmore when there were guests.
Mentally and physically exhausted, Beth called a halt. The marquessobviously loved his home, and she felt he had relaxed a little during thetour. If she was to attempt an explanation it had best be now. She beganwith simple conversation.
“How do you begin to understand such a place?” she asked him.
He shrugged twirling a piece of straw in his fingers. “I know it as theplace where I grew up. I spent my childhood, when I could escape from mytutors, under the grooms’ feet, or sticking a finger into a cook’s mixingbowl, or wandering with Morrisby through the wine cellar looking at thewine laid down for my coming of age. But as for running it, I only knowhow to direct the people who run it. That is all you will need toknow.”
Beth could only hope the day was long distant.
“I never asked you,” the marquess said. “Do you ride?”
“No. I never had the opportunity.”
“We must get you a habit and I’ll teach you. It will give us somethingto do on our honeymoon.”
Beth stared at him in surprise and he stiffened, memory and coolnessreturning in a second.
“Surely you don’t want to spendeverymoment in bed?” he asked unpleasantly. “Even if you do, mydear, you must excuse me. No matter how lusty your previous lovers, I haveonly the capacity of a normal male. But I forget,” he added with a sneer,“you satisfied yourself with plurality, didn’t you? That I cannotaccept.”
Beth turned away to hide her burning cheeks. “I didn’t,” shemuttered.
“I beg your pardon?”
Beth swallowed hard and turned to face him. “I didn’t... what you said.I haven’t...”
He didn’t thaw a bit. “It’s a little late for maidenly modesty,Elizabeth, though I congratulate you on your acting. It relieves my mind.You will have no difficulty in persuading the local people we are inlove.”
“I am not acting, Lord Arden,” said Beth desperately.
He leaned against a stall door and studied her. “Let me understand you.You are now claiming to be what . . . ? Surely not a virgin?”
Beth felt as if she would be sick. “Yes.”
“Why?”
Beth shook her head in bewilderment. “Why what?”
