“Just give her one or two things to change, so she knows you are taking on your role.”
“I’ll tell her that the eggs are too runny. Will that do?”
He looked down at the remains of his breakfast. “They are somewhat, aren’t they? See, you do have things you want changed.”
He finished his meal, then gave her a long and rather arousing kiss. “I will be back in several hours,” he said as he left. “I want to write to Haversham this afternoon to reassure him that our war is over.”
Haversham? He intended to inform the king’s man before he told his own friends, it seemed. Only it was not Haversham who would benefit from this sudden marriage. It had been most convenient for the king he served, however.
Quite convenient for the duke, too, if she wanted to face facts squarely, which, despite the mysteries unfolding at night, she could not help doing in daylight. Oh, he would help her learn the truth about her family, and he would see that the lands were returned to her, but it would not cost him anything at all. He would still ridehisestate and collecthisrents and rebuildhismanor house. A parliamentary action returning these lands to the baron’s descendants would change nothing for him now. Indeed, it would signify so little that she would not be surprised if such a bill were introduced and passed even if no more proof were found.
She let herself out into the library. She knew even less about decorating than she did about running a large household. It seemed eggs and drapes, however, were duchess duties.
Chapter Twenty-Two
She did not know how to ride, but she could walk the estate. The next day she did just that. While Brentworth and Roberts sequestered themselves in the library with ledgers and paper, she donned her half boots, tied on a bonnet, wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and carried her father’s bag out of the house.
She had indeed sat with the housekeeper, Mrs. Ross, yesterday afternoon. Not to give lists of commands, but to learn something about the people here. First, she encouraged talk about the servants, because that sounded like something a new lady of the manor would want to know. Then, as Mrs. Ross became more comfortable and loquacious, she asked about the tenants.
Thus had she learned about Mrs. Drummond. “Dying she is, poor dear. Belly large with something. Stopped eating, I’m told, and in terrible pain. Her man has been staying by her side and his fields were not harvested, so no telling what will become of them.”
Her spirit lightened as she trod up hills and down dales. Not because of Mrs. Drummond. She knew the sad news she might find there. Rather, it had been too long since she had put her knowledge to good use. She had helped a few poor people in the city, but mostly there she tutored. Education was a noble calling in itself, but her heart would always be in medicine. Even carrying her father’s bag, heavy though it was with his bottles and instruments, gave her satisfaction. She had brought it for a reason, and this was it.
The land was beautiful in its wind-torn way. Few trees broke the view of the heather-strewn land swelling up and down all around her. She passed a few farmhouses and thought they appeared in decent condition. At least Roberts had not neglected them, even if his master had.
The Drummonds lived almost a two-hour walk away, but she barely noticed the time pass. Eventually, she found the farm she thought might be theirs and presented herself at the door.
A gaunt, graying man of middle years opened the door. He looked tired and worried and already in mourning. He looked her over from head to toe. “Who might you be?”
“I am the Duchess of Brentworth.”
He almost laughed. He looked past her. “Where is your carriage?”
“I walked.” She held up her bag. “I have come to see your wife. I hear she is very ill.”
“Nothing to help her.”
“Perhaps not, but let us see if we can’t make her more comfortable at least. Will you invite me in?”
He stood aside. “I heard he’d just married. The duke that is. My friend John was by with some food from his wife, and she’d heard from her sister who lives near the church, who’d heard that he—you—just showed up two mornings ago and asked to be wed.” He kept examining her, as if he expected something else. Something more.
“Where is your wife?”
“Back there.”
“I will see her alone, if you don’t mind. While I do, I want you to sleep. Even if it is only for an hour, it will do you much good.”
Mr. Drummond did not argue. He let her go into that back chamber alone. As soon as she opened the chamber door, she knew that her long walk had probably been in vain.
* * *
“I think we’ve an excellent and practical plan, Your Grace.” Roberts smiled in a self-congratulatory way. “Should be a fine new wing in a couple of years. There’s plenty of men in these parts who will be glad for the work too. Not masons proper, but with good supervision they should be able to do some of it.”
“Use the locals whenever possible.” He looked over the black stones one last time. He might have never taken on the rebuilding if not for Davina. He probably never would have come back here. Or stayed here. He certainly would never have married here. Now this property represented more in his life than it ever had before. This wing stood now for nothing more than a ruin that a negligent owner had not dealt with for a decade.
“We can probably get the walls down before spring, and start new foundations once the ground thaws.” Roberts spoke thoughtfully, working out the battle strategy, eyeing those burned walls like an enemy he would vanquish. “Need proper masons for those. Men around here will be busy with their sheep and crops then anyway.”
“I will leave it all to you. As for the new wing, I will seek out an architect to plan it.”
