Page 45 of The Duchess Audition

“I think ladies don’t like climbing trees,” he replied, as he pulled himself up to the next bough and leaned against the trunk, his legs swinging.

“You must not have met many,” she teased. “I love it. There is not a single tree on the Stadley Estate that I have not climbed.”

To prove her point, she quickly tied up her skirts until they resembled a peculiar pair of short trousers, and began to make her ascent. She pulled herself easily from bough to bough, her hands and feet finding secure holds, until she ended up on the same bough as her stepson, facing him.

“Impressive,” he chuckled.

“It is good for the muscles,” she told him, smiling. “One should never be too sedentary.”

The boy cocked his head. “What does that mean?”

“It means someone who does not exercise much and spends most of their time sitting,” she replied. “They do not move often.”

“Ah, so Father is sedentary.”

Marina hesitated. “I do not know. Is he?”

“He spends all day in his study and all evening in the drawing room. When he is in London, he spends some nights at the gentlemen’s club, but I believe that is mostly sitting too. And drinking.” The boy shrugged. “He never wants to play.”

Feeling like she was subtly getting to the meat of William’s earlier comment, Marina shuffled forward slightly on the bough. It was not so comfortable without the trunk to lean against, but she trusted in her balance.

“You would like him to play with you?” she said.

A shy look fell across the child’s face, his shrug a little more petulant. “I suppose.” He paused. “He doesn’t do anything with me. He doesn’t teach me to ride or shoot, he doesn’t walk with me, he doesn’t like to talk to me, he won’t play any game though I’ve tried a thousand different ones.”

Her heart ached for the boy, hearing the deep-running sorrow in his voice, seeing the shame in his inability to meet her gaze. The poor child probably did not understand why his father wanted to spend so little time with him.

Marina could not understand it either; William was a lovely boy, well-spoken and sharp of mind, with a liveliness that certainly brightened her spirits.

“Is that why you think he does not like you?” she asked.

He nodded. “He is always cold and dismissive. I think he’ll be his happiest when I am at Eton and he doesn’t have to consider me anymore.”

She wanted to tell him that she was sure that was not true, but she could not. She did not know what Anthony’s thoughts about his son were. Maybe he did not like the boy for some reason. Maybe he just did not know how to be a good father. Like becoming a duchess, there was no manual for parenthood; it was mostly instinct and observation.

“He is rather grumpy,” she said in a conspiratorial voice. “Maybe, when my greenhouse is ready, you can help me make a tonic for grumpiness. A tonic that will make him want to play.”

William eyed her suspiciously. “There’s no such thing.”

“My dear boy, there is a medicine for everything,” she told him. “It is just that not every medicine has been concocted yet. Yes… I think a little St. John’s wort for mood, some blue vervain for raised spirits, and… I can think of a few other herbs that improve vigor and vitality. A few sips of a tonic like that, and he would be unrecognizable.”

A small smile began to creep onto William’s face. “You’re teasing me to make me feel better.”

“I would not use teasing as a medicine,” she replied, grinning. “But I can make something. It would not hurt to try, and I shall show you how I make all of my remedies, if that would interest you?”

The boy’s smile widened, his blue eyes shining with sudden excitement. “I’d like that.” He paused, thinking. “Can I make medicines of my own?”

“Of course,” she said. “I shall teach you. Now, I cannot promise that your father will allow you to be a doctor, but at least you might become a healer like me.”

He seemed puzzled. “How are you any different to a doctor?”

“I am a lady,” she said simply. “I am not allowed to be a doctor, but I have yet to let that stop me from healing people. And we should not let your father’s grumpiness stop us from having fun and learning new things.”

“Teach me something!” William said eagerly.

Marina let her gaze wander across the shady woodland, trying to think of something that might interest an eight-year-old boy. Of course, she could have told him about some gruesome medical cases that she had read about, or how to set broken bones, but she figured she would leave that for a moment when he really needed cheering up.

“Ah, do you see those flowers over there?” She gestured to a veritable wall of little white flowers, swaying in the summery breeze.