Two windows, both with drapes that must be centuries old.
Sitting up, she dangled her feet over the edge of the tall bed. The carpet looked even older than the drapes.
Personal objects of her husband’s lured her to lower her feet to the floor so that she could examine what he felt necessary, or precious enough, to keep close at hand.
She smiled at the strands of his curling blond hair left behind in a well-used brush. And at the razor and comb he left casually strewn atop his bureau. The thought struck her that he did not keep a valet.
Perhaps another item to add to her list.
Trailing to the desk, she sat down and picked up an unfinished document he’d been writing. Supplies to be purchased. Printed in an almost child-like script. A few other notes that she didn’t understand about sheep in the third quarter… repairs.
She did not open the drawer.
On a small table beside the bed was a small jewel box. Inside, a ring with the same faded crest that had adorned the door of their carriage.
Why did he not wear his ducal ring?
Sounds at the door had her hastily replacing it and turning around.
“Fran!” It seemed as though a lifetime had passed since she’d seen her dearest maid and companion. She flew across the room into the older woman’s arms and squeezed her with all her might.
“No tears, then? He has treated you kindly?” Fran stood back and examined her closely. “His Grace asked that I did not awaken you, but that I assist you in dressing so that he can show you about the estate.”
“No tears.” Lila sniffed. “And I believe he is a good man.”
So far. Unless her instincts were wrong. He’d been kind.
He’d been more than kind.
He wanted to spend the day with her. Showing her the estate. Her new home! He was not going to turn back into the sullen stranger she married.
“There’s a room across the way where he told me to unpack your belongings. What kind of duke is he, that he doesn’t have a proper chamber for his bride? Anyhow, come along with me, dearie, and I’ll get you prepared for the day. You look as though a rat has been sleeping in your hair.” Lila followed the energetic woman across the hall into the other room.
“We’ve a good deal of work to do,” she told her cheerfully.
And for one of the first times in her life, she felt she might have something to offer this world.
* * *
“Come in.”Vincent barely glanced up from the journal of transactions as he bid Calvin to enter.
Only it wasn’t Calvin.
The first day, his wedding day, his wife had deliberately chosen unflattering garments in some rebellious gesture against her father or him or both of them. The second morning, his wife had dressed without the assistance of her maid.
Today, she appeared every inch a duchess.
So much so that he wondered how on earth he was going to manage to keep her satisfied. Two people could not spend all of their time in the bedchamber, after all.
She wore her silken strands of coffee-colored hair in a braided coronet wound about the top of her head. Her skin glowed and the vibrant azure gown she’d chosen matched her eyes almost perfectly.
Vincent awkwardly pushed back his chair so that he could rise. “Your Grace,” he addressed her.
A secret light danced behind those eyes. Ah, she might look the duchess, but this was the same woman he’d had writhing and bucking beneath his mouth the day before.
“Your Grace.” She dipped into a graceful curtsey.
For all of thirty seconds, Vincent seemed to lose track of any intelligent thought. He’d sent her maid up when he’d discovered the luggage coach had arrived early.
