Devil take it, had it really been that long?
Reaching for his paper knife, a sleek piece of silver inscribed with his initials, Ambrose sliced open the wax seal and removed the folded piece of paper within.It smells like her, was his initial thought. Lilacs in bloom.
Mara had always smelled like lilacs in bloom, even on the night they met.
Then he read the actual letter, and his second thought wasthe fuck she is.
It started benignly enough. Pleasant, even.
My Lord Duke,
I do hope that this letter finds you in good spirits and even better health. The estate is doing well, and spring crops have been planted with high yields expected. Come summer and autumn, we should have a wonderful harvest season.
In a different vein, I feel compelled to be forthright with you in a matter that I never planned to become public knowledge. As you may or may not have heard, I will be traveling to London for the upcoming Season. You needn’t worry that I’ll encroach upon your privacy; I have already made arrangements to stay with my sister and her husband, Lord Wycroft, at their townhouse in Mayfair. But I must confess, that is not my sole reason for putting ink to parchment.
After much consideration, I have decided to take a lover.
As someone who has undoubtedly enjoyed the company of paramours, both before our marriage and during it, I hope this does not offend or cause you a great deal of shock. On the contrary, I should like to believe this will be a relief in that you needn’t concern yourself with enduring my company, something that you have made clear is disagreeable to your constitution.
Naturally, I shall employ every act of discretion at my disposal. It is not my wish to cause you embarrassment or harm.
I should like to thank you in advance for your understanding.
Respectfully,
Marabelle Southwick
“HUMPHREY!” Ambrose roared, slowly crumpling the letter into a ball.
Accustomed to being summoned via bell, his butler of half a decade almost tripped over a scullery maid in his haste to reach the study.
“Your—Your Grace?” he said, presenting himself in the open doorway. “How can I be of service?”
“Have my valet pack me a traveling bag, Humphrey, and have the landau brought round.”
The butler’s quick blink was his only sign of surprise. “I take it you’ve chosen between Portugal and Albania?”
“Neither,” he said shortly. “I’m traveling to Southwick Castle.”
“Southwick Castle, Your Grace?” This time, Humphrey didn’t even attempt to disguise his astonishment. It was well known, at least among the staff, that the duke detested his ancestral family home. During Humphrey’s five-year tenure, he was able to count on one hand the number of times Ambrose had visited the 500-acre country estate. “But... why?”
“Because,” Ambrose began, his voice quiet and all the more dangerous for it, “the duchess and I need to have a conversation. See to it that my belongings are prepared and the carriage is readied with all haste.”
“Right away, Your Grace.”
“Excellent.” He opened a gold inkwell and reached across his desk for a blank piece of parchment. “Oh, and Humphrey?”
The butler straightened. “Yes, Your Grace?”
“Don’t ask me a personal question ever again, or it will be the last time you do so under my employment.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
*
Blissfully oblivious tothe storm that was on its way to her, Mara was onherway to the house of a local farmer whose wife had recently given birth.
Kitty, staying through the end of the week, had chosen to remain behind in the parlor with the gossip papers while Mara filled a basket with honey, bread, and cheese before heading out.
