Page 55 of From Unwanted to Duchess
“Yes. And if they have elected Sweeting by then, have him come too.”
He leaned back as Franklin made his way out of the his chamber.
If Frances was going to assert herself, he was going to give her a chance to do so properly. And by God, she was doing itmagnificently.
Frances stared at the note.
What in the world did he want now? For her to come and join a meeting?
That very morning, she had sat in as the farmers who had decided to join forces elected Ernest Sweeting as their spokesperson. He seemed capable, much more so than she had first thought when his wife had described him while getting the plow out of the mud.
But was he ready for what would be required of him tonight?
“Pray, who is Morrison?” she asked Lizette, who was busy arranging her hair in a simple updo.
“He is the new steward.”
“Yes,” she said, having heard of the man. “And he’s coming today?”
“Yes, in the late afternoon. I believe it is for tea. He and His Grace are going to talk about the farmers and Mr. Morrison’s impression of what needs to be done.”
“I see.”
Frances wondered what the man would make of her decision to insert herself into estate matters the way she had done.
And what did James make of it? He hadn’t really said anything to her about it.
“Would you send a message to the Sweeting household to let them know that I require Mr. Sweeting’s presence, and find out exactly what time this meeting is?”
Lizette nodded and hurried away.
Her hair coiffed now, Frances stood up and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like a duchess; that couldn’t be denied. Aunt Eugenia had sent a trunk full of clothes the previous week, items that she had ordered when she still thought Frances was staying with her for some time.
They were regal enough for a duchess, she supposed. Not that she and James ever went anywhere that would require more formal attire. They had been invited to a ball at Marianne’s home a fortnight from now, and she hoped that by then, she and James would have found a better footing.
She still remembered his words when he had caught her chastising his valet. He hadn’t been angry at all. If anything, he seemed amused. And Franklin had treated her with far more respect since.
Who knew? Perhaps all that was needed was to assert herself more to gain the respect of both her husband and his valet.
That evening, at five to five, she went downstairs to greet Ernest Sweeting. He was dressed in a tweed suit and a hat that could only be described as threadbare. But he looked well put together, even if his attire was not of the highest quality.
Still, he looked at her like a cornered animal. “Your Grace, I have only just been elected spokesperson. I do not know that I am ready to meet the new steward.”
“You were going to meet the new steward regardless,” she said. “In fact, I believe you already have?”
“I have,” he confirmed. “He stopped by the farm a few days ago and asked questions. Whether growing corn, when two others are growing the same thing, is the best use of our time and space. He is the haughty sort, as though he knows better. He’s from the north.”
“Hmm.”
She knew very well that many of the southern farmers did not think much of gentlemen from the north, and even farmers from the north. And the reverse was true as well.
“You need to project confidence,” she told him. “Just think of the fact that everybody on this estate has elected you as theirspokesperson. They think highly of you, and you must protect that.”
He nodded right when the door to the study opened and James stepped out. “There you are. Both of you,” he said. “Come in, Mr. Morrison is already here.”
Frances did not like that James had welcomed the steward without including her, but since he was the Duke and she was merely his wife, it was his prerogative.
She stepped into the study and sat in the armchair, before remembering that, as a duchess, it was her duty to serve tea.
