Page 52 of The Duchess Audition

What gives her the authority to judge me as a father? What does she know about the bond between a father and son?

He was still simmering now, her rebuke repeating over and over in his mind. It did not help matters that she had so skillfully struck a sore point that he had not known he had.

A boy does not need to be close to his father, he told himself as he wandered down the last few steps. Does he?

As long as there was respect, surely that was all that mattered?

He was about to turn left to head to the breakfast room, assuming that his wife and son would already be finished, when the front door burst open. As if summoned, Marina and William came rushing inside, both of them holding a stack of books in their arms.

Anthony froze, noting the bright smile on his son’s face, and wondering if he had ever seen such a smile there before.

“Ah, just the man I need!” Marina cried, spotting him. “My books have arrived from Stadley. In truth, far more than books. Come and help us, or we shall be running back and forth for an age.”

Anthony looked at her as if she were quite mad. “Why are you bringing in your things at all?” He gestured vaguely. “Have the staff assist you.”

He was beginning to think he ought to send a letter to Marina’s uncle, to ask just what sort of bizarre life they had been leading. First, she had insisted on making the cordial herself, scratching up her hands to pick the ingredients; then, she had made them both a sandwich last night though the cook must have been around somewhere; and now, she was carrying her own belongings.

It was not normal, not for those of station.

“William, set those down,” he instructed.

But the boy did not, holding his cargo all the tighter. “Marina asked me to help. I want to help.”

“This will not do,” Anthony muttered. “Where is Mrs. Havers?”

“Do not trouble her,” Marina insisted. “I would like to do this myself, so I can remember where everything is. If the servants help, it shall be twice the work for me.”

Anthony puffed out a breath. “How so?”

“I can put things in order as I go along, if I am the one bringing things in,” she explained cheerfully. “If the servants help, I will have to put everything in order afterwards. These books are very precious to me; I do not want them being handled improperly.”

“Are you saying my servants do not know how to handle books with care?”

She sighed. “Not at all. I am saying that I am very particular, and it is easier if I do it my way.” She lightly nudged William with her elbow. “This excellent young man has been granted the honor of aiding me, and I extend that honor to you.”

“I have things to attend to this morning,” Anthony replied, as he watched a book begin to slip from William’s grip.

“Well, might you at least show me to the room that is to be my study?” she asked, readjusting her own considerable stack of tomes.

Grumbling under his breath, Anthony walked forward and took the books from William before he dropped them. “You can use the old library,” he said, striding off down the left-hand corridor. “It was my father’s. There is nothing in it now, so do with it what you will.”

Marina and William followed after him, while his mind swirled: was that what she had meant last night about not being remembered? In the months after Anthony’s father passed, he had not hesitated to rid the manor of the man’s belongings. All of it superfluous, none of it having any meaning for him whatsoever.

I would like to continue to have meaning, even after I am gone.

The thought perplexed him as he came to the room he had not entered in years. There had been no reason to, for it was empty and he had his own study, as well as the main library.

“Will this suffice?” he asked, turning.

The look upon Marina’s face disarmed him completely. Her blue eyes flew wide, her lips parting, while she glanced this way and that, taking in the library.

It was a modest space, compared to the main library, with a mezzanine at one end that could only be reached by a ladder, for the most precious books. Bookcases formed three rows, the walls also layered with shelves. A desk and a high-backed chair were the only remnants of its previous owner, the rest bare and open to Marina’s tastes.

“You can do whatever you like with it,” Anthony told her. “Decorate it however you please.”

Marina said nothing as she wandered further into the room and set her first armful of books down on the desk. She walked toward the first set of bookcases, her fingertips trailing across the wood, and when she reached the ladder at the far end, she climbed right up to the mezzanine.

Instinct urged Anthony to go to her, to ensure she did not hurt herself or fall, but he held back; he had learned his lesson after observing her scratched hands in the kitchen. To get that close to her was to put himself in danger, just not of the physical kind.