Page 11 of A Wife for the Beast (Scandals and Second Chances #6)
The morning after her wedding dawned grey and damp, with the sort of persistent drizzle that seemed to seep into one's very bones and emphasize the bleakness of the Yorkshire landscape.
Evangeline woke in the Duchess's chambers—a vast suite of rooms that had been aired and refreshed but still carried the faint mustiness of long disuse—feeling like an intruder in someone else's life.
The chambers themselves were magnificent, decorated in shades of blue and gold that must have been the height of fashion during the previous Duchess's tenure, yet every surface spoke of careful preservation rather than active occupation.
The furniture was exquisite but covered in protective cloths until the previous day, the windows dressed in curtains that had been closed against the light for years, the very air heavy with the weight of memories that belonged to another woman entirely.
Mary appeared with her usual punctuality, bearing hot water and the efficient manner that characterized all the Ravenshollow servants, though the maid's nervous energy suggested she was still adjusting to the presence of a new mistress in the household.
"His Grace requests your presence in the estate office at nine o'clock, Your Grace," Mary informed her as she helped Evangeline into a practical morning dress of dark green wool. "He wishes to acquaint you with the property's current circumstances."
The formal phrasing suggested that Lucian intended to treat their first morning as married partners with the same businesslike efficiency that had marked their courtship and wedding ceremony.
Evangeline found herself oddly relieved by this approach, as it postponed the awkward intimacies of learning to share domestic space with a man who remained largely a stranger despite their legal bonds.
"Thank you, Mary. I trust His Grace slept well?" The polite inquiry was automatic, though she found herself genuinely curious about how her formidable husband conducted himself when not maintaining his carefully controlled public facade.
"I wouldn't know, Your Grace. His Grace keeps to his own chambers in the east wing, and we servants do not approach. That is to say, he values his privacy most particular."
The carefully neutral response revealed more than Mary perhaps intended about the household's dynamics and their master's isolation from normal domestic intercourse.
Evangeline wondered if he took his meals alone, managed his correspondence without assistance, and generally conducted his life as though he were still a bachelor rather than a newly married man.
The estate office proved to be a businesslike chamber adjoining the library, its walls lined with maps, surveys, and ledgers that spoke of centuries of careful stewardship by previous generations of Hollowbridge dukes.
Lucian stood behind a massive oak desk covered with papers, his dark hair tied back in a manner that minimized his scars while emphasizing the strong lines of his jaw and the intelligence that burned in his remarkable eyes.
"Good morning, Evangeline," he said with formal courtesy, gesturing toward a chair positioned across from his desk. "I trust you passed a comfortable night in your new quarters?"
"Good morning, Lucian. The chambers are quite lovely, thank you for asking." She settled herself with dignity, noting that he had arranged the furniture to maintain physical distance between them while conducting their business. "I understand you wish to acquaint me with the estate's affairs?"
"Indeed. If you are to fulfill your role as duchess effectively, you must understand the scope of the responsibilities we share.
" He indicated the papers spread before him with a gesture that suggested frustration rather than pride.
"I fear you will find the current state of affairs rather challenging. "
"In what manner challenging?"
"The estate has suffered from considerable neglect during my absence at war and subsequent withdrawal from active management.
Tenant relations have deteriorated, agricultural improvements have been postponed indefinitely, and several properties require immediate attention to prevent further decay. "
His admission of inadequacy was delivered with the sort of bitter self-incrimination that suggested he took his failures personally, though he seemed determined to present the facts without seeking sympathy or understanding.
Evangeline studied the maps and ledgers he indicated, noting discrepancies between what should have been profitable holdings and the reality of declining revenues.
"The rainfall last autumn was particularly severe," Lucian continued, moving to stand beside a large survey map that dominated one wall. "Several tenant cottages suffered water damage that has not been repaired, and the winter crops failed due to poor drainage in the lower fields."
"And what measures have been taken to address these difficulties?"
"Very few, I am afraid. I have found it difficult to maintain focus on such matters since my return from the war."
The careful phrasing did not disguise the depth of his struggle with what she was beginning to recognize as a profound melancholy that affected every aspect of his life. Yet she sensed that direct sympathy would be unwelcome, so she focused instead on the practical aspects of their situation.
"Perhaps we might begin with a tour of the affected properties? I should like to see the conditions for myself before attempting to suggest remedies."
"If you wish. Though I warn you, the circumstances are rather more dire than these papers suggest."
***
They set out within the hour, mounted on horses from the Ravenshollow stables that had clearly once been among the finest in Yorkshire but now showed signs of the same neglect that plagued the rest of the estate.
Evangeline's mare was well-trained and gentle, though she noted that several of the stalls stood empty and the remaining animals appeared to receive only basic care.
The ride through the estate revealed the full extent of the problems they faced with devastating clarity.
Fields that should have been productive lay fallow or poorly maintained, their drainage ditches clogged with debris from the previous night's rain.
Tenant cottages bore visible signs of disrepair—sagging roofs, broken windows, gardens gone to seed—while the roads themselves were rutted and treacherous from lack of proper maintenance.
"How many families depend upon the estate for their livelihoods?" Evangeline asked as they paused to survey a particularly neglected section of farmland.
"Nearly two hundred souls, directly or indirectly," Lucian replied, his voice carrying a weight of responsibility that seemed to burden him physically. "They have been patient with my inadequacies but patience has its limits."
"They have been loyal, rather than merely patient. Loyalty that deserves better treatment than they have received."
Her observation was delivered without accusation, yet she saw him stiffen in his saddle as though she had struck him. "I am well aware of my failures, Evangeline. You need not catalogue them for my edification."
"I do not seek to catalogue your failures, but rather to understand the scope of the challenges we must address together. Self-incrimination serves no useful purpose in solving practical problems."
"How refreshingly practical of you."
"Someone must be practical, since you seem determined to wallow in guilt rather than take constructive action."
The sharp exchange might have escalated into open argument had they not been interrupted by a pitiful whimpering that seemed to emanate from a collapsed section of stone wall beside the path.
Evangeline's attention was immediately drawn to the sound, her gaze searching among the rubble until she spotted the source—a small, bedraggled puppy that could not have been more than a few months old.
The creature was in deplorable condition, its coat matted with mud and debris from the previous night's rain, its small frame shivering with cold and apparent hunger.
One leg appeared to be injured, causing it to hold the limb at an awkward angle, while its ribs showed clearly through its sodden fur.
The sight struck Evangeline with unexpected force, reminding her painfully of her own recent state of desperate vulnerability.
She found herself leaning forward in her saddle, every instinct urging her to dismount and offer assistance to the suffering animal.
Her hands tightened on the reins as she fought the impulse to abandon propriety and tend to the creature's obvious needs, her body language betraying her desire to act despite the restraint she imposed upon herself.
A duchess, she reminded herself firmly, did not leap from her horse to rescue stray animals, no matter how pitiful their circumstances.
Such behavior would be unseemly, inappropriate to her station, and likely to earn her husband's displeasure.
She was no longer free to follow her charitable impulses without consideration for the dignity of her position.
"Evangeline," Lucian's voice cut through her internal struggle with harsh impatience, "we have a schedule to maintain. I would prefer not to spend the entire day examining every corner of the property in exhaustive detail."
"Of course, Your Grace," she replied with careful formality, though she could not prevent herself from casting one final, concerned glance toward the injured puppy before urging her mare forward.
Lucian's sharp eyes, however, had not missed the direction of her attention or the way her entire posture had changed upon spotting the abandoned animal.
He noted with interest how she had fought against her obvious impulse to dismount and assist the creature, the visible struggle between compassion and propriety that played across her expressive features before duty prevailed over inclination.