“Shall I have one of the staff escort you to the dining area?” the cook said, hesitantly.
“Oh, no. I… well,” Rachel bit down on her lip. “I’ve always thought the kitchen is the heart of a home. If I am to truly understand Everly Manor, then surely, I should begin here.”
The younger maid looked up from slicing vegetables, her curiosity getting the better of her.
“But… why would a duchess need to understand the kitchen?”
The cook shot the maid a sharp look. “Hush.”
“No, no, let her ask,” Rachel encouraged. “It is only natural, and I will address her curiosity. I wish to understand, as this is my home now, and I want to do more than simply live here. I want to make itbetter.”
Rachel wanted to convey that she meant no harm by intruding upon their space. If anything, she only wished for things to run as smoothly as they possibly could.
Slowly, she began to notice that the tension in the room was easing.
“Will you show me?” she said, smiling again.
“Of course, Your Grace.”
As the cook gestured her toward the pantry, Rachel began asking questions about the menu and their schedules.It took them a while, but Rachel could see their surprise giving way to curiosity. She hoped to transform it into acceptance soon.
“I have to say, Your Grace,” the head cook said to her as she concluded her little tour, “none of us expected to greet you formally for the first time in this manner.”
Rachel smiled to herself. “I suppose I have been told before that I have my own way of doing things.”
Her day was off to a good start. Now, she just had to keep the momentum going. So, she did the same, going to the staff whilethey were performing their duties. Their reactions were all the same. Surprised, then curious, and then finally accepting.
It was much later when she found herself in the gardens—speaking with the head gardener, Mr. Weston, about the estate’s grounds—that she stumbled on more information that she had not even been looking for.
The older man stood with his hands clasped behind his back, “Your Grace, the gardens are in good shape. The duke likes them kept neat and functional. No frivolities,” he noted.
That sounded like the duke. All the practicalities.
“A garden is meant to bring beauty and joy, Mr. Weston,” she answered instead. “What is so frivolous about a weed or a flower that is not meant to be where it ought? They are all a part of nature—each equally beautiful.”
Weston hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “The duke doesn’t care much for beauty, Your Grace…” he noted, and then, as if he had misspoke, he added hastily, “At least, not in the garden.”
Rachel tilted her head, curious. “And yet he keeps the grounds so well-tended. That speaks of care, doesn’t it?”
Weston’s lips twitched, “The duke’s a practical man, Your Grace. Everything he does has a purpose. So everything that happens in the estate must have a purpose, too.”
That sounded exhausting to think about, but Rachel had found an unexpected window of information about her husband, and she was not about to turn down the opportunity. Mr. Weston seemed more than willing to speak candidly—or at least as candidly as it could get between them—than the other servants.
“And what about the tenants?” Rachel pressed. “How do they feel about him?”
Weston’s gaze flicked toward the manor before returning to her.
”They respect him. He’s fair, but he doesn’t tolerate nonsense. When he inherited the title, some doubted him—said he was too distant a relation to understand the estate—but he proved them wrong.”
Rachel paused. Now this was something she had never heard before. “Distant relation?”
Mr. Weston nodded. “The duke wasn’t raised here. He’s not the son of the previous duke—he’s from another branch of the family.”
Rachel’s brows furrowed. “I see. And… he has no other family?”
Weston hesitated, clearly debating how much he should say. “Only Lady Jean, his aunt. She comes by every so often, but she keeps to herself.”
“Does she?” Rachel asked, intrigued. “And was she raised here, like the late duke?”
