Page 13 of Her Wily Duke

Which meant that, regularly, Frederick sent Wiggins to withdraw funds from their bank, which was in Trenton, money which should have purchased food and other items for Foxridge Park, but which, in large amounts, was then collected or sent by messengers representing those Frederick had bet with, and lost to. It made Adam gnash his teeth in anger.

At least the stables buildings were still in good repair – both the smaller one some distance away, where his stallion was kept, and the larger one close to the house, where the mares and geldings were located, next to the carriage house. That was one cost he did not have to worry about yet. But having enough feed for the animals was another matter.

As was having enough food for the people.

There was no choice, he thought, as he rode back from another depressing conversation with a farmer, he would have to take action on his most desperate plan, for he would not see anyone starve, if he could prevent it.

*****

Things went on much as they had been, with little changing, as the weather became steadily colder. Emme found herself always watching, hoping to see Lord Whitewell, whenever she came to Foxridge Park. Internally, she chided herself for a fool - but still, she looked.

On this particular day, as the end of October neared, she had hurried up the path towards Foxridge Park, walking quickly to keep warm, for the wind was crisp. Fortunately, it was early in the day, so at least there was a little pale sunshine. Once inside, she was glad of the old stones of the house, and of the fact that the previous Duke had chosen to spend money on having the shutters maintained, and even having some windows glassed in. It made the place far warmer than it might have been.

Lady Caroline greeted her in the Music Room, as cheerful as always, and Emme smiled at her, glad to have such a pleasant person to teach. They began the lesson, and, as happened almost every time, a few minutes after they started, the Duke appeared in the doorway. He stepped just into the room, and simply stood there, watching, with a smile on his face.

Emme found that smile odd, for he rarely said anything, and she did not really see what there was about the process of her teaching Lady Caroline that he might smile so incessantly at. It was difficult to ignore him, yet she tried, for her task here was to teach Lady Caroline, and that required focus.

At the end of the lesson, the Duke indicated that he wished to speak to her.

She sighed, mentally, but kept a smile on her face. He quite often spoke to her, but rarely of anything significant. Lady Caroline bid her farewell, and hurried off about her own business, leaving Emme standing before the Duke. She would not speak first – if he wished something of her, let him break the silence. A few minutes passed, and then, as Emme was beginning to be most uncomfortable, the Duke finally spoke.

“Miss Mowatt, I would be pleased if you would come and take tea with me, in my study. There are things I would like to discuss.”

Emme was startled – that was very much not what she had expected. And she wasn’t sure that doing as he asked would be at all wise. After all, she would be alone with him, in a closed room – not that she was a Lady, to need to worry overly about propriety, but still… The silence was stretching, and she swallowed. She really could not refuse – after all, he was her employer, and if she wished to retain the position, then she needed to not offend him. She would just have to be careful.

“Of course, Your Grace.”

He beamed at her, which was most strange to see, given that his most common expression was a scowl.

“Follow me, then.” He turned and walked off, absolutely, arrogantly, certain that she would follow, so she repressed another sigh, and did just that. They reached his study, and he pulled the bellpull as he waved her to a chair. A maid hurried in to the room. “Tea, and some cakes, immediately.”

The maid nodded, and hurried off. The Duke left the door open, which made Emme feel somewhat better, and he went and settled himself behind his desk.

“Miss Mowatt, I… ah… don’t socialise very much, and I have had little chance to speak to anyone but the staff, and my sister, for a long time. So I thought that it might be pleasant to converse with you. I would like, if you will humour me, to hear something of your life. Do you teach many students, other than Caroline? Have you travelled beyond our village, and the local area?”

Emme was startled, and the arrival of the maid with the tea tray gave her a chance to steady herself, and think of how she might answer – for she must keep him happy – if the price of continuing in her position here was talking about her rather ordinary life, then she must do it. At least he did not, for today at least, seem to have any intentions towards her, beyond talking – and she was greatly relieved by that. Once she had been served tea and cakes, and the maid had left the room, Emme attempted an answer.

“I do sometimes teach other students, Your Grace, although not many. And as far as travelling… well, I’ve been to Trenton many times, but not much beyond that. I’d like to see London, one day, I think…”

He smiled, and she was startled again by how different it made him look – when he relaxed like this, and smiled, he was almost handsome. She wondered, then, what had caused him to be so angry and unpleasant a person, most of the time. They talked for almost an hour, about the village, about her life, and other simple things which she would have expected to be beneath the interest of a Duke, yet he appeared to actually wish to hear what she had to say. Finally, after it felt as if she might reasonably make her excuses, she smiled and spoke gently.

“Thank you so much for the tea, Your Grace. But I really must bid you farewell now – I did promise my father that I would be back before the light began to fade…”

For a moment, she thought that she had made him angry, for an almost bitter look crossed his face, but then he brought the smile back, and stood.

“Of course. I will not keep you from your father, and your duties. But I do hope that you will grant me the pleasure of another conversation like this, occasionally?”

Emme personally hoped not… It had not been the most comfortable of conversations, and, as she had listened to him espouse his opinions on the life of villagers, opinions which were not well founded in reality, she had found herself wishing that the man she was taking tea with was Lord Whitewell, not his brother the Duke.

But she kept her smile in place, and curtsied.

“Of course, Your Grace, if it would please you.”

“It would.”

He bowed to her, and she felt very strange, but he was the Duke – how he acted was entirely his choice, and if he wished to treat her like a Lady, then so be it. She curtsied again, and hurried away, the tension only leaving her shoulders once she was out of the house, had crossed the gardens, and stood on the bridge over the Foxrill stream.

*****