A DUKE PROVIDES A SHOULDER
Meanwhile, at Ariley Place
When the knock came at her bedchamber door, Rose was sure it was her mother. She glanced at the clock, realizing exactly fifteen minutes had passed since her abrupt departure from the parlor.
Fifteen minutes of tears was to be her limit, it seemed. She hadn’t cried like this since the accident. Hadn’t dampened this many hankies since seeing the ugly scar on her leg when the physician removed the bandages. Even now, she winced every time she removed her stockings at night.
It will fade over time, she remembered the doctor saying the following week, as if it was no worse than a scratch.
If she’d been a giant, maybe.
What man would want a wife with such a hideous scar? At least she could hide it beneath stockings.
The knock came again, and before she could muster the energy to call out, “Go away,” the door opened to reveal the duke.
“Father,” she whispered in surprise.
“Last I checked I still was,” James said with a grimace. “Seems you took exception to something your brother said?”
From the manner of his query, Rose wondered if he hadn’t seen the decorative pillow fly through the air in all its golden glory. If he hadn’t heard what was said between William and their mother. He’d been sitting far closer to them than she had been, but she had also noticed that James Burroughs, Duke of Ariley, had been noticeably preoccupied during their time in the parlor. More interested in something in his mind’s eye.
“SomethingMothersaid, actually,” she replied as she waved him into the room. She hiccuped as he settled a hip on the edge of her bed. “At least, what I think she said.”
“The pillow didn’t hit you,” James stated.
She winced. So hehadseen the flying pillow. “No, but... it wasn’t like Waverley to do such a thing.”
“It wasn’t like you to tease him about his duties.”
Rose inhaled softly. “Duties?” she repeated after a sob briefly robbed her of breath.
“Duties, yes,” her father said. “Since you seem to not have noticed, probably because your nose is too far up in the air—”
“Father!” she started to say in protest. The duke’s raised hand had her clamping her mouth shut.
“—please allow me to inform you that I have essentially relinquished my ducal responsibilities to your brother. Several years ago now. He’s even accepted a writ of acceleration and will take a seat in Parliament starting tomorrow,” he explained.
“You’re giving up your title?” she asked in surprise.
“Not giving it up. I couldn’t if I wanted to. Just turning over thework,” he said. “Despite what you think, it is work to run a dukedom with as much land and as many buildings as the Ariley dukedom owns.” When he realized he had her attention, he continued. “There are reports that must be read and acted upon, invoices to pay, letters to write, ledgers to keep, and—”
“But you have a man of business to do all that,” she argued.
“Ah. So youhavebeen paying attention,” James remarked. “Well, my man of business sees to thepropertieshere in town,” he explained. “I have several foremen who oversee the farms, too, but they, like the man of business, must be managed. Investments must be tracked. The stables, the animals, the equipment... yes, I own it all. But that means I am responsible for it, and it is work to be sure it’s all sorted,” he went on. “Just as it is your mother’s responsibility to see to all the houses and the staffs of servants, to manage the menus and the entertainments. To be my hostess...” He allowed the sentence to trail off, unsure of what else his wife had been managing in the name of the Ariley dukedom. Unless she preceded him in death, he would probably never know the rest of what she did.
Rose sucked in a breath as another sob caused her to hiccup. “I suppose I owe him an apology.”
“Mmmm, probably not,” James said with a grin. At her look of shock, he said, “There was the flying golden pillow. I think you’re even.”
Displaying a wan grin, Rose sighed. “If I don’t marry—”
“Youwillmarry,” James stated.
Rose’s eyes widened. “Have you heard something?” she asked, not meaning to sound so desperate.
Caught off-guard, James dipped his head. “No. Not directly,” he admitted. “However, there are a number of young men who haven’t yet succumbed to marrying before their twenty-eighth birthdays,” he reminded her. “Most will be at the ball tomorrow night.”
Twenty-eight.
