Page 57 of A Duke in Her Fate
“Your Grace?”
“What?” Ronan snapped as he turned to Hobbes.
The older gentleman looked at him over his spectacles with an arched brow. “Is my work unsatisfactory?”
He huffed. “No. Why?”
“Then there is no need to take that tone with me,” the butler said mildly before sniffing. “As I was saying, the carriages have been inspected, the stables are clean, and a delivery of fresh hay should arrive before the end of today as scheduled.”
Shoving aside his files, Ronan forced a nod. “Very good then. Is that all?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“Your mood, I would suppose.” Hobbes gave him thoughtful sort of look. “I would think a newlywed such as yourself should be enjoying what they now call the honeymoon phase. Perhaps you and your bride need some time alone. Together,” he added pointedly.
The thought made Ronan’s heart beat stop. He couldn’t breathe. Together? Oh, he could imagine that. Just him and Isla, no one between them and nothing… Heat swarmed his chest so fast it made him dizzy.
Exhaling, he closed his eyes.
No. I do not want her in that way. I won’t. That is no longer… It is not part of the plan, and I am past those days. Besides, we already agreed this is merely a marriage of convenience.
Whatever his desires might be, they would go away. In time. Eventually.
“No,” Ronan forced the word out so they might both believe it. “That is not necessary. I prefer that we both settle into our life as it is meant to be. I have a duchess, and I have… my duties.”
“Even if it makes you unbearable?”
He opened his eyes to glare at the old man. “Is it your wish to retire so quickly?”
“I don’t mind either way. The question is, do you mind?”
The gall of the old fellow was ridiculous. And yet Ronan knew the right of it. They both did. How could he manage without Hobbes? They knew each other too well, and he permitted the butler to get the best of him.
Rubbing his eyes, Ronan stood. He couldn’t bear to sit at his desk any longer than he could endure Hobbes’ jibes. “Very well. Do as you will, old man, but leave me out of it, eh? I’m going for a ride. I promised I would check in on the vicar after the last rainfall. The fresh air should do me some good.”
“Very wise, Your Grace. Perhaps,” Hobbes said brightly as he trailed behind, probably very well knowing how it peeved him, “You can escort the duchess back after her own journey.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She’s in the village, of course. Visits every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon, you see,” the butler explained in a dreadfully cheerful tone. “She’s already well-loved about the area and is always making friends with passersby.”
Of course she is. Who wouldn’t wish to befriend a duchess? And why wouldn’t Isla be seeking friends where she could? It isn’t as though I have a problem about that. I wouldn’t dream of such a thing.
And yet… An hour later, he was sitting in the saddle on the edge of the lane as he watched his very own duchess laughing and smiling at a stranger. A handsome young stranger who had a carriage waiting for him, like he didn’t belong here. Like he was delayed simply for Isla.
Ronan growled at the sight. His horse shifted uneasily beneath him and only stilled once he gave a direct tug on the reins to calm the beast. This did little to soothe his own ire, however.
What was it about Isla that always had the young bucks and dandies looking her way? Yes, her auburn hair was bright and curled and very prettily framing her face like a Greek goddess. Her eyes certainly shined even on cloudy days. And her laugh was absurdly welcoming to all.
But it doesn’t mean give any man the right to look at her that way. Like he adores. Like he has any right to her. Blast it, man, stop smiling.
Ronan knew he should move on. It wasn’t as though he cared. Isla could do as she liked. She was clearly enjoying herself. Except he was frozen in his spot, hands gripping the reins, willing her to… to look anywhere else.
Then her eyes found him.
“Blast,” he murmured, his breath catching.
