She understood why the Duke had had to give himself clues to find his way around. She let her fingers trace along the carved stars and then pulled her hand back.
“Now is not the time for dancing,” she muttered.
Her stomach fluttered as she walked toward what she hoped was the dining room. She was right, and as she entered the room, she found it empty. She could not tell whether she was relieved, disappointed, or some combination of the two.
She moved to what she believed was her seat and waited for her husband to arrive. As she did, she wondered how many more surprises the day would bring.
CHAPTER 6
“Why did you not tell me I had a wife, Mr. Wilkins?” Alaric arched an eyebrow at his butler.
They were standing in his antechamber, waiting for his valet, Mr. Greg, to return with the shaving equipment. Alaric had waited for the man to leave before asking Mr. Wilkins the question; he had no wish to bring anyone else into this.
Alaric watched the muscles in Mr. Wilkins’s throat tense and relax, saw his shoulders stiffen. The man was nervous, which was understandable. Since the accident, Alaric had come to depend on him to help fill in the gaps in his memory. He trusted him, and he felt disappointed.
“I had not realized that your marriage was among the memories you had lost, Your Grace,” Mr. Wilkins said.
“You were not surprised that I never asked after her?” Alaric frowned.
Mr. Wilkins shook his head. “It seemed in keeping with your arrangement, Your Grace. I assumed you had other, more pressing worries.”
“While I understand your reasoning, I do not appreciate the situation it has led to.” Alaric sighed. “Though I suppose it cannot be helped now. It is impossible to expect you to know what I remember and what I do not when I myself have no idea. I take it that is why Mrs. Danvers is in the London house?”
“Yes, Your Grace. I did not want to arouse suspicion by requesting she join us, and I did not feel that it would be wise to bring another member of staff into the house until you were better recovered.”
“A prudent decision. Though if the Duchess is to remain here for some time, we should have Mrs. Danvers join us. Having a housekeeper would be useful, and you are right. Hiring new staff seems like a risk not worth taking.” Alaric ran a hand through his hair. “Though do not close the London house. Leave some staff there.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
“Having some of the Duchess’s clothes sent here will give you a perfect excuse to summon Mrs. Danvers.” Alaric glanced toward the door and leaned toward Mr. Wilkins. “What was Catherine talking about when she said that she had to change for dinner?”
“It is customary for lords and ladies such as yourselves to dress in evening wear for dinner,” Mr. Wilkins explained.
Alaric arched an eyebrow at him. “And yet this is another thing you did not see fit to remind me of?”
His butler swallowed. “I had assumed that you had decided to eschew that particular part of propriety, Your Grace, given your health. And it did not seem like my place to question your decision.”
I suppose that is the difference between a servant and a friend.
Alaric bit back a sigh. “Well, whilst it makes no sense to me, it is clear my wife expects such things. And at some point, I will no doubt have to rejoin society, and they will expect the same thing. So I will change for dinner once Mr. Greg has returned.”
The door opened, and Mr. Greg appeared with a basin, a brush, and a razor. Alaric sat on the stool, and Mr. Greg placed a cloth around his neck and began to lather and dab the suds against his stubble.
“His Grace will require his evening attire for dinner, Mr. Greg. I trust they are ready.” Mr. Wilkins inclined his head toward Alaric’s dressing room.
“Yes, Mr. Wilkins.” Alaric thought he heard a hint of reproach in his valet’s voice. “And there will be plenty of time to have you read before dinner, Your Grace.”
“Excellent,” Alaric murmured, trying to move as little as possible with the sharp blade pressed against his neck.
“If you have no more need of me, Your Grace, I will take my leave of you.” Mr. Wilkins gestured toward the door.
Alaric made a gesture of dismissal with his hand and watched his butler disappear. The smell of the shaving foam was overpowering and made his head ache, but that was nothing new. Since the accident, smells had been particularly irksome for him.
It was a relief when Mr. Greg washed it all off and set about dressing him for dinner. Alaric chose a sky blue cravat that reminded him of Catherine’s eyes. It seemed like the sort of thing a woman like her might appreciate.
“Thank you, Mr. Greg. That will be all.” He dismissed the man, waited until he was sure he had left, and turned to look at himself in the looking glass.
It was the first time in months that he looked at his reflection and felt a sense of recognition. He ran a hand over his freshly shaved face and smiled. The movement felt odd, but he thought it looked normal enough.
