“Actually, sir,” Townson interrupted. “I told the staff to be discreet and stay out of your way. I wished to give you time to adjust to being back in town.”
“That is his polite way of saying he wanted to see if I would still be drunk and wandering the halls scaring the maids with my unkempt appearance.” Hart’s wry half smile was in place but behind it she could see regret in his eyes.
Townson for his part remained silent and stoic. Always the utmost professional.
Lucy clapped her hands together. “Well, there will be none of that when I am here. I will keep my husband far too busy to be roaming the halls at night.”
Hart made a choked sound from next to her. She turned to see what the problem was and caught him covering a grin with one fist as he coughed. Strange.
“Mr. Townson, could we have some refreshment set out? I’m famished. I spent too much time this afternoon talking and not enough time eating. And I know I did not see His Grace eat a single thing either. Perhaps just in the breakfast room?” She turned back to Hart. “I don’t think I am up for spending our first meal together as husband and wife at that large imposing dining table.”
“I have a better idea,” Hart said. “Why don’t you let Mrs. Hunt show you to your room to freshen up. And when you come down, I will have everything arranged.”
“What are you arranging? Where will we eat?”
Hart gave her a little nudge toward the stairs. “Just change into something comfortable for an evening in.”
Lucy couldn’t imagine what he had in mind, but she was grateful to go to her room for a few moments of peace. And to change from her silk gown with its five layers of petticoats and stiff-boned corset. The layers of undergarments had made the skirts look lovely and full, and the corset had given her small breasts a well needed lift to fill out the bodice. But as Helen helped her take off each layer, Lucy also began to shed the nerves she had carried with her all day.
She donned her more comfortable short stays over a fresh chemise, and then Helen held out her favorite cotton summer dress, the empire waist style comfortable and cool and the lilac color flattering to her complexion. She stared into the looking glass and felt like herself again. She needed to remember that even though the man downstairs was the Duke of Hartwick, he was also just Hart. There was no reason to be nervous.
She made her way back downstairs and found Hart standing at the bottom, waiting for her. He had removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal his forearms. One covered lightly in dark hair, and the other covered in smooth pink scars. Pleased that he felt comfortable enough to show her some of the scars he usually kept concealed, she gave him a bright smile as she descended the last few stairs.
He held out a hand. When she crossed to him, he tucked her arm through his elbow.
“Where are we going to eat? We are still going to eat?” she asked.
“Yes. You have often made sure I ate, and now it is my turn to feed you. This way.” He led them to the back of the house and out through French doors to the back garden. The sun low in the sky cast golden light over the lawn and pierced through the leaves of the great aspen tree, leaving patterns of dappled light on the grass underneath. Past the stone terrace, in front of the Koi pond, a blanket was laid out in the grass. A large wicker basket sat in the center.
“How about an evening picnic? It’s beautiful weather, and we have been cooped up inside all day.”
“I’ve never heard of having a picnic in the evening.”
“Welcome to my world; haven’t you heard?” Hart lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Dukes can do whatever they choose.”
She grinned and hopped off the terrace to make her way to the blanket. Settling herself as gracefully as possible, Lucy spread out her skirts. “It is lovely out here.”
Hart grabbed two lit lanterns from a table and came to join her. He set the lanterns at the far edge of the blanket. “These are for when the sun sets. Now let’s see what my cook has packed for us.”
He reached into the basket and brought out a small bouquet of daisies. He handed them to her with a flourish. “For you, Lady Hartwick.”
Their yellow centers were so cheerful and sunny that Lucy couldn’t help but smile as she petted the delicate petals with one finger. “How did you know what my favorite flowers were?”
“I know everything about you.”
“Ha! You’ve never paid an ounce of attention to me except when your father made you come fix things at the school.”
“You were a lot of trouble back then. But I admired your spirit. You didn’t let that finishing school mold you into some insipid debutant. And I do so know all about you.” He held up one finger. “You like daisies. You have them planted all throughout the garden at the house in Portman Square.” He raised another finger. “You never wear the color yellow. You dislike fish of all kinds.”
Lucy scrunched her nose and nodded her agreement.
“You never back down from an argument. You like to beat on bags of sand with a big staff, although that is a new discovery.”
Lucy laughed out loud at the last one. “I only fight the sandbag because it’s socially unacceptable to pick fights with people on the street. I could teach you some techniques, and then we could spar together. It might even be a good way to loosen up your shoulder.”
“I’m not sure my ego could take being taken to task by such a small woman.”
She laughed again because she absolutely could beat him in a match. He noticed more than she ever thought about her. “I concede, I am surprised at the things you’ve noticed.”
