Page 37

Naturally, his want for her was forbidden, so how could he want more? He could not allow himself.

As he approached the window, his eyes surveyed the intricate dance of the servants below, each step a well-rehearsed routine in the grand symphony that was life in the manor as they went about cleaning, setting things right, and just existing.

Matthew’s brow furrowed. Did they see him as a true duke, a leader worthy of their respect, or merely a commoner who stumbled upon nobility by chance?

As Matthew brooded over the dualities of his existence, a polite knock sounded at the door, and he turned toward the sound.

He knew who it was. Gabriel, his valet.

“Good morning, Your Grace. May I enter?” Gabriel’s demeanor exuded both respect and familiarity.

“Of course, Gabriel. What news do you bring this morning?” Matthew replied, gesturing for him to proceed.

With a deferential nod, Gabriel entered, bearing a basin and washcloths. “For your bath, Your Grace. I hope your night was restful.”

Matthew, in the process of contemplation, acknowledged, “As restful as it can be.” He watched as Gabriel arranged the essentials for his bath, the water reflecting the morning light. “Thank you, Gabriel.”

Gabriel nodded again, and Matthew proceeded to have his bath, thinking of his valet, who had been with his family since his father became a duke.

Gabriel had never acted sly or different with him. The man was almost like a lifeless doll, but even at that, Matthew could not help but think of what Gabriel also thought of him.

In a tone he hoped was casual and a bit uncaring, Matthew spoke up. “What do you reckon people think of me, Gabriel, as a duke?”

At first, Gabriel was quiet, too quiet, and the only sound in the room was of Matthew washing his face as casually as he could.

Why is he so quiet?

“I can’t say I know what the people think, Your Grace,” Gabriel finally said.

It was a lie, Matthew knew it. But before he could call him out, Gabriel continued, “Your Grace, may I offer my thoughts?” He unfolded a fresh towel with precision and passed it to him.

“Please, Gabriel. Your insights are always valued.” Matthew patted his face dry.

“I might not know what others say, but I know what my family and I think of you,” Gabriel said.

Matthew paused. “Oh? And what’s that?” His throat bobbed. He looked away.

“We think you are one of the best dukes we have had in such a long time. You care for the people, you listen and act accordingly. You are a great and deserving duke. Huntington has progressed so much since you became our leader, and we are grateful for you,” Gabriel said, and Matthew fought so hard to not smile, his heart soaring.

If someone at least felt this way, he was all right. The rest would come around.

“Thank you, Gabriel. I appreciate that.”

Gabriel nodded, the room lighter now.

As the valet busied himself, he skillfully wove their conversation into the fabric of the morning ritual. “Farmers from the estate have gathered in the hall. They await your guidance on the matters concerning the harvest.”

Matthew, momentarily diverted from his musings, sighed. “Very well. We cannot afford to keep them waiting.”

Matthew donned the garments befitting his title—a tailored coat of deep indigo, a waistcoat adorned with subtle embroidery, and a cravat expertly tied to convey an air of sophistication.

As he descended the grand staircase, the echoes of his footsteps mingled with the whispers of the manor’s history, a reminder that each stride carried the weight of tradition and the burden of legacy.

* * *

“If you go according to my instructions, things will definitely improve,” Matthew said as he passed the paper he had stamped. “Give this to the distributors, they will cooperate.”

The farmers, grateful for the Duke’s intervention, expressed their thanks with a mixture of relief and admiration.