Page 50 of From Unwanted to Duchess
“Your tenants seem content,” she observed as they rode on.
“They are good people,” he said. “Hard-working. Honest.”
“You care for them.”
“Of course I do. They are my responsibility.”
She nodded, understanding more about him in that moment than she had in all their previous conversations combined.
They continued riding until they had made it to the very edge of the estate, and then they turned back.
The ride was mostly silent, as their journey to Somerset had been. As most of their dinner had been.
It was odd. James wanted to be vexed with her for acting as though she were merely a guest in his house, even though she was now the Duchess. But at the same time, he was glad for the distance.
Three hours after setting out on their trip, they rode back in near silence. Once home, he handed the reins back to one of the grooms, and she did the same before they entered the house.
In the grand entrance hall, he looked at her. “Well, I suppose I shall see you at dinner.”
She shrugged. “I thought I might take dinner in my room tonight. I would rather save my voice and not shout across the dinner table again as we did last night.”
James coughed, feeling his Adam’s apple bob. “As you wish.”
He had also felt awkward the evening before. Having her sit so far away had felt strange, but it was how his parents used to dine and what he thought was the proper thing. And after spending much of his youth challenging the boundaries of the world around him, he had decided that it was best to stick with what was established. It would help him maintain control. And as the last two days had shown, he was in danger of losing that control around her. And that terrified him more than he cared to admit.
“Your Grace?” Franklin said as he joined him on his walk up the stairs. “How was the ride? The Duchess seemed engaged.”
“She was, and she has befriended all of our tenants already.”
“Well, that is good, is it not?” Franklin asked. “You seem out of sorts.”
“I am not out of sorts,” James replied. “I’m merely vexed. This is not what I wanted. You know this very well.”
Franklin fell into step with him as they turned onto the first floor and made their way down the hall toward the study.
“I do, Your Grace. However, it may be just what you need. Somerset Trust required you to have a wife. Now you have one. One who has shown interest in the estate.”
“She certainly has,” James agreed. “And she’s doing it more naturally than I am. You should’ve seen how the tenants reacted to her—smiling, offering her sweets, telling her about their troubles more than they do me.”
“And again I ask, what is the matter? This is exactly what you wanted.”
He shrugged. “I suppose. And yet it feels odd. She walks around the house as though she were merely a guest. We barely speak to one another.”
They entered the study, and James dropped into the chair he had custom-made in London, replacing the one that had borne his father’s silhouette.
“And is that not your doing as well?” Franklin asked.
“You know me too well, old chap. I suppose it is my fault. I have not spoken to her much since the wedding, but I have a reason. She has already concluded she will be miserable here. She told her father as much.”
Franklin remained standing, but tilted his head to the side. “Do you not think that perhaps such harsh words were only meant to hurt her father? It is true that she did not want this marriage any more than you did, but she must know that her life will not be miserable here. And, if I remember correctly, you often said harsh things to needle your father.”
James sat back. It was true. He had often said things he didn’t mean only to set his father’s bristles up.
“Perhaps you should speak to her,” Franklin suggested. “Begging Your Grace’s pardon, but you’re making a mull of things. You’re being a nodcock about this, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“Perhaps,” James relented. “In any case, I suppose things cannot go on the way they have been. Otherwise, we will both be miserable.”
A knock sounded at the door then, and Harken walked in with a silver tray and several letters on top.
“The mail has arrived,” he announced and bowed slightly so that James could take the letters from the tray.
He looked through them. A letter from Somerset Trust, announcing a visit from their representatives, which he had already anticipated. Another letter from his former steward with recommendations for a new steward. And another letter that had him sitting bolt upright.
He tore the seal, unfolded it, and then smiled.
“Well,” he drawled, “regardless of my situation with the Duchess, I daresay the immediate future looks brighter, indeed.”
