“How does it look?” she asked quietly, her tone serious but her face still bright for those who were watching.
“It will hold, assuming the rain continues to taper off like it has at last,” he signed, unable to hold back an exhausted sigh.
Her shoulders slumped slightly and a look of relief passed over her face that he would have expected if her own home were being threatened. But of course she would have such empathy. She was Charlotte.
“Shall I tell them?” she asked.
He nodded. She linked her arm with his and drew him forward to the group of women and children. “The duke says that they feel the lessening weather and the strength of the dam will keep the flooding from getting worse.”
One of the women began to cry as the rest gathered close. The children jumped with pleasure. Ewan’s heart swelled with it all. He had good people in his care. He took their well-being seriously.
He signed letters and words at a breakneck speed and Charlotte translated to the group, “His Grace still believes the Nickel, Swanright and Beckham families should take to the shelter tonight. It’s the big hunting lodge where the items have been taken and there are comfortable beds, as well as a feast that will be sent down from the big house.”
“Our tarts?” one of the boys called out.
Ewan shot Charlotte a look. “Tarts?” he signed.
“I promised tarts to the boy and girl who helped fill the most sandbags,” she explained. “Though I think there should be tarts for everyone!”
He nodded. “I agree. Tarts and pheasant, vegetable stew, bread and cheese and wine.” The eyes of the families boggled, and he smiled. “The same will be sent to the homes of the families who were not evacuated as a thanks for all their help today.”
The door to one of the cottages higher on the hill opened and a lady hustled out with a huge teapot and a plate of simple cakes and breads. It was Mrs. Boyd, whose home was not threatened by the flood.
“For you and the men, Your Grace.” She bustled and another of the tenants rushed to help her pour cups. The men were coming up the hill behind him and they gratefully took the warm brew to take the chill from their bones. Ewan took his cup last and drew in a breath of the fragrant tea.
As he took a sip, Mrs. Boyd smiled at Charlotte and handed her a cup. “It will be a fine thing to have a new duchess on the estate.”
Ewan just barely kept himself from spitting his mouthful of tea across the worn grass at the assumption. Charlotte shot him a side glance before she smiled kindly at Mrs. Boyd.
“Oh, gracious, I am not to be the new duchess,” she explained gently. “The duke and I are…we’re simply old friends. We’re awaiting the arrival of family when the bridge opens to have a holiday celebration. I couldn’t let him come down here to all of you and not offer to help.”
Mrs. Boyd blushed. “Oh, there I go putting my foot in it. I just assumed—”
Charlotte reached out and placed a hand on hers. “There’s no harm, of course. If today I stood well in the place of the Duchess of Donburrow, I am happy for that.”
Ewan swallowed as conversation passed to other things. He hardly attended to any of it. All he could do was watch Charlotte. Even wet and dirty, she was lovely. She could put any person at ease—she did it without even trying. And it was clear by the way the ladies of his estate cooed over her that she was instantly adored by all.
He shifted slightly, trying to keep his mind from turning to thoughts of her truly as his bride, his duchess. She would make things so much easier, especially since she had clearly established relationships with his people in just a few short hours. And the idea that she would be at his side always, in his bed always, in his arms always…
He shook his head and stepped forward to return his empty cup to Mrs. Boyd. He signed and Charlotte translated, “The carriage to take us back to the estate is coming, it seems. The men will keep watch on the barrier we built, and if anything changes or worsens, please don’t hesitate to send word. We can evacuate even more.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Chadworth said, reaching out a hand. Ewan shook it, and then the hands of all the men who he had worked side by side with today. Charlotte hadn’t been with him then, but he hadn’t needed to speak to communicate.
That was a big reason why he liked doing physical labor. He could find respect with his body without needing someone to decide if he had a mind at all.
The ladies were saying their goodbyes to Charlotte and he waved off his footman and waited by the carriage door. When she at last turned toward him, she smiled.
“I am to be helped into my carriage by the Duke of Donburrow, himself,” she teased softly. “What a great honor.”
He shook his head with a laugh as he took her hand. Her fingers flexed through her gloves and his heart jumped to life. Even in the cold and the rain he reacted to her. Nothing could stop it, it seemed.
She settled into her seat, and he climbed in after her and pulled the door shut behind him. It was more than twenty minutes back to the house from this part of the estate, and he settled in for a cold ride.
“I thought a carriage back would be better than horses,” he explained through sign.
She nodded. “Yes, I admit it’s nice to sit and let someone else do the work after such a long morning.”
“You were good with the tenants,” he signed. “You helped calm their fears.”
