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“Yes, your Grace,” Hunters said. “It will be the largest renovation made to the estate so far. Her Grace has spent many days planning it herself. Any architect would be impressed.”

Michael paused, glancing over at the butler. “You certainly are not one for handing out compliments, Hunters, and yet, I fear you are about to deliver another one.”

“As a matter of fact, your Grace, I find it hardnotto give Her Grace a compliment.”

Michael stared at him, eyes wide and surprised. “You can’t be serious.”

“Perhaps there has been an useless extravagance spent here and there,” Hunters continued. “But you cannot deny her ability to handle her role well. Her Grace has been a fine Duchess, despite not knowing the responsibilities well beforehand.”

“But you and Mrs. Bellflower -”

“Have been a helping hand, your Grace, but the rest was done through the Duchess, and the Duchess alone.”

Michael glanced out the window once more, his eyes caught on the gardens. If he stared long enough, he swore he fell back into a time he thought long gone, where his mother used to walk with him through the gardens. She’d always have a book in hand, reading some sort of article aloud to him as they walked. If he concentrated hard enough, her voice came back to him as a distant echo, as though she haunted him still.

He yanked himself out of the reverie. “However impressive Her Grace’s work has been,” he finally said, “You cannot deny their pointless extravagance.”

The butler sighed. “They were not pointless, your Grace.”

“Hunters.”

“Sooner or later, the work needed to be done,” Hunters said. “Not that I ever had the authority to deny Her Grace’s wishes, but if I did, I do not believe I would’ve done so.”

Michael stared at the side of the butler’s face with a slack jaw. To see the man so willingly respect her changes felt like a strike across Michael’s cheek, a turn of events he never once dared to imagine. His brow furrowed.

“I would like to see my chambers, Hunters,” Michael muttered irritably.

Hunters, the only man around who could possibly be amused around Michael’s annoyance, let out another smirk and continued the way through the halls. Sticking close behind the butler, Michael glared and smoldered relentlessly. He yearned for some solitude. After spending the years at the private estate, focused on his work upon the dukedom, Michael grew incredibly fond of his moments alone.

Now, at the estate, Michael remembered the reasons why he liked it so much.

Butlers pushed open the familiar door. For a moment, Michael felt at peace, stepping back into the place he cherished, the place he so easily called home. The second he stepped over the threshold, the feeling seemed to evaporate into thin air.

There was not a single thing he recognized. The bed, sitting on the eastern side rather than the western, was dressed with silk sheets, the comforter fluffed and high above the rest of it. The tapestries, which Hunters mentioned earlier, were no longer the deeply emerald green he remembered. Instead, the colors were pale and opaque, light and soaking in the sun. He squinted as the rays shot through the opened windows, curtains pulled and tied to the side. Whatever shower that had graced the hills before had slunk off into the distance, leaving an empty sky for the sun to shine in.

Michael turned. Behind the butler, a few staff lingered by, passing in front of the room. He sidestepped Hunters, and reentered the hallway. “You two!”

The servants froze, spinning around on their heels and balancing the trays they held. They bowed simultaneously. “Your Grace.”

“Fetch the original things that once belonged in my chambers,” he commanded. “I wish for it all to be returned to what it once was. Am I understood?”

They glanced at each other before bowing once more. “Yes, your Grace.”

Within an instant, the pair took off in the opposite direction.

“Do you despise it that much?” Hunters asked as Michael came back into the bedroom.

Michael sneered. “Must I enjoy it?”

“No,” the butler replied. “But you might consider it.”

Once again, the irritation of Hunters ability to so easily accept the Duchess’s changes came rushing back through Michael. He faced the butler, eyes narrowed in a deadly glare. “Haven’t you heard the rumors surrounding my wife? The woman you hold in such high esteem?”

Hunters eyed him. “I do not believe the esteem I hold Her Grace in has anything to do with it, your Grace. But rather, despite her hardships, the Duchess focused heavily on her duties. In fact, I say she might have exceeded all of our expectations.”

“The rumors -”

“Forgive me for interrupting,” Hunters said, “But those rumors are nothing but typical society, your Grace. I’m sure you know that as well as I.”