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Chapter Twenty-One

“ W here are they?” Marianne asked, breathless from holding her breath for most of the wait.

The weekend had finally arrived.

Marianne had explored nearly every corner of Oakmere Hall by now—its shadowed corridors, its quiet attics, its sunlit gardens. She’d even amused herself by making changes just to see how far she could push the Duke’s patience.

That, admittedly, had been the most fun of all.

But today, she couldn’t be bothered to care what he thought. For her sisters were coming.

She stood at the front entrance, hands clasped behind her back, neck craned as she stared down the long drive. The gravel was still and silent for a moment, and then— at last —a carriage appeared through the trees, rumbling closer with every turn of the wheels.

Her heart leaped.

The vehicle drew to a halt a few feet away. The door opened.

First came Wilhelmina, poised and solemn in a deep purple velvet cloak. She was on the cusp of womanhood now, with the kind of regal bearing that turned heads. Though Marianne knew that beneath that serene exterior was a tongue as sharp as cut glass.

The twins tumbled out next. Victoria, in a forest-green gown, wrinkled her nose as though the country air personally offended her. Daphne, ever the contrast, wore a pale pink frock and beamed with open delight, already turning her head to take everything in.

Behind them trailed an exhausted governess, her bonnet askew and her shoulders sagging under the weight of responsibility and motion sickness.

But one figure was missing.

Marianne scanned the carriage again, her brow furrowed.

No Elizabeth.

“Where’s Lizzie?” she asked.

“Father insisted that she went to London with him to attend events,” Wilhelmina explained. “We tried to convince him to let her come, but he would not be dissuaded.”

“She was left alone with him?” Marianne asked in complete disbelief.

“Yes,” Wilhelmina confirmed. “We tried to argue with him, but to no avail.”

Marianne pursed his lips. She had hoped that all her sisters would be together even during the weekends. Keeping them safe for only a few days would be some sort of consolation. But Elizabeth remained with Lord Grisham, and it felt like a deliberate plan on his part.

Suddenly, Marianne felt a slender pair of arms wrapping around her. Of course, it was sweet Daphne.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered.

Marianne hugged her sister back, pulling some strength from the affection and warmth Daphne wanted to share with her.

Meanwhile, Victoria still watched the estate in disdain. “Huh! This place smells like sadness. And why is it so quiet?”

“What a curious thing to say,” Marianne said.

Even though she’d resented being at Oakmere Hall, it had started feeling like home. Perhaps her efforts were not that wasted, she had thought.

“It does have that dreary, brooding air,” Wilhelmina observed, her eyes sweeping over the hall’s stone facade.

“But then we’re hardly strangers to the countryside.

No, it’s the architecture—that Gothic melodrama.

Honestly, I half expect a ghost to drift past or someone to jump from a window at any moment. ”

Marianne smiled and shook her head in disbelief. Her sisters had been there for mere minutes and they had already managed to amuse her.

“Come inside. We have tea waiting for you.”

As soon as they reached the foyer, she heard footsteps echoing from above.

The Duke.

He stood at the top of the staircase, his hands tucked behind his back while he observed his visitors.

It hurt Marianne to see how disinterested he looked.

He could have at least feigned warmth. After all, he expected her to behave properly in the presence of company. Shouldn’t he at least do the same?

“Your Grace, these are my sisters. You met them at the wedding. Wilhelmina, Victoria, and Daphne, and this is their governess, Miss Clara Aldridge.”

The Duke acknowledged them with a nod. “Ladies.”

“Your Grace.” Daphne immediately bobbed a curtsy.

A flicker of something—amusement, maybe—sparked in his eyes. His lips twitched, barely holding back a smile as he straightened just a fraction, clearly taken aback by the unexpected grace coming from someone of her kin.

Well, there was Elizabeth, but she wasn’t here.

And Victoria? Her arms remained crossed in front of her, her lower lip curled, her stance defiant as usual.

Wilhelmina managed a polite nod. “Oakmere Hall is, er, grand for someone who lives on their own, Your Grace.”

“I am no longer living alone, Lady Wilhelmina. Your sister, my servants, and the dogs live here as well. Speaking of, the dogs don’t like loud noises,” Dominic explained. He’d finally reached the bottom of the stairs. “Please keep that in mind.”

“Oh. You have dogs!” Daphne exclaimed, her eyes widening with excitement. “May I see them? What are their names?”

“They’re hunting dogs, not pets, Lady Daphne,” the Duke replied in a flat, cold voice.

Marianne clenched her hands into fists as she saw Daphne’s shoulders drop.

“Achilles and Beowulf are domesticated,” she chimed in, rubbing her sister’s back. “They are large, but I believe they’d be happy to see you.”

Dominic turned his gaze to her, narrowing his eyes in warning, but she lifted her chin in response.

These were her sisters, and no one had the right to be this curt with them.

“Does Your Grace always glower at people, or is that hard expression only reserved for people who ask to see your dogs?” Victoria asked boldly.

Dominic blinked, caught off guard by the twelve-year-old’s pointed question.

Marianne glanced at Victoria with a fond yet wary smile—her sister’s boldness was admirable but occasionally reckless.

“I merely expect respect, Lady Victoria. Especially from guests in my home.”

With that, he gave them another nod and turned around, seemingly headed for the library.

“He looks like a villain,” Victoria grumbled.

“Victoria,” Marianne chided.

“At least we know what kind of story we’re in,” Wilhelmina muttered, her eyes darting from one intricate detail of the house to another.

Mrs. Alderwick arrived to assist, bobbing a curtsy.

Marianne heaved a long, deep sigh, grateful for her presence. They helped each other direct the girls and their harried governess to their rooms.

Oakmere Village was modest but carried its own quiet charm. Narrow cobblestone streets wound between small, tidy shops, each boasting bright flowering window boxes that added color to the stone facades.

Marianne knew Dominic’s insistence on an escort wasn’t mere fussiness over titles—it was the weight of appearances in a place where every glance held judgment.

As she strolled with her sisters that afternoon, mindful of the watchful eyes of neighbors, she felt the delicate balance between tradition and warmth that defined Oakmere’s village life—much like the life she was learning to embrace.

Curious eyes followed their movements, but they tried their best not to act too self-conscious. At least Marianne did. She was more used to not being noticed at all. Now, she missed the benefits of being a spinster.

“Is that the new Duchess? She looks… older than I expected,” one woman murmured.

Marianne could hear them well enough because they weren’t even trying to lower their voices. She tried her best to grin and bear it.

“Who are those little ones? Perhaps her nieces?”

“Oh, bother,” Victoria muttered.

Marianne tried not to chuckle. She was still trying to ignore everyone near them. Daphne held onto her hand, glancing at the Duke with wide eyes.

“He does not bite, Daphne,” Marianne whispered playfully. “Probably.”

Hearing the whisper, Victoria snorted.

Meanwhile, the Duke seemed focused on their surroundings. Marianne wondered how much he’d heard. People were speculating about them, but he had not even reacted. He carried on as if he never heard, but that could not be the case.

“Well, it looks like our brother-in-law is well-respected, Victoria,” Wilhelmina commented. “Didn’t you notice how everyone steps aside when he passes by?”

“They’re just afraid,” Victoria muttered.

“Do you really think so? Somehow, I doubt it. You are not one bit afraid of him,” Wilhelmina reminded her. “Or you would have worked on your manners.”

“Daphne is afraid,” Victoria volunteered. “She’s always shaking around him.”

“Oh, Daphne,” Wilhelmina sighed. “We know our Daphne well enough. She’s afraid of several people.”

Speaking of Daphne, the girl currently didn’t look frightened at all. Her eyes had widened and her face split into a grin when they neared a quaint, little shop.

“Is that a bookshop, Marianne?” she asked excitedly.

“It is,” Marianne responded with a smile. “Let’s have a look.”

Inside the little shop, Daphne was immediately drawn to the rows of bookshelves, her fingers grazing the spines as if she could taste the stories hidden within.

Marianne inhaled deeply, catching the faint, comforting scent of ink and aged paper—a fragrance that seemed to whisper promises of adventure.

Wilhelmina deftly reached for a leather-bound volume perched high on the top shelf, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of discovery.

To her surprise, Marianne saw the Duke examine a few titles, his features soft, no doubt imagining how they would fit among the vast collection in his library.

Only Victoria remained unmoved, her arms crossed and her nose slightly wrinkled as if the entire bookstore were beneath her.

Marianne watched quietly from the doorway as Daphne stepped forward, her eyes wide with curiosity.

The shopkeeper, a kindly older man with spectacles perched on his nose, smiled warmly at the young girl.

“A lady of twelve with such a fondness for reading,” he said. “What sort of stories do you enjoy, little miss?”

Daphne’s face lit up. “I love fairytales. Something like One Thousand and One Nights , or The Tales of Mother Goose . Stories full of wonder and adventure!”