Page 15 of Duke of Emeralds (Dukes of Decadence #2)
“ T he rains are quite unpredictable this year, Your Grace. We may face delays in the harvests,” Mr. Bailey, the steward, remarked as they strolled along the estate, Thomas’ gaze drifting over the rolling fields that swayed gently in the breeze.
“Nevertheless, we shall proceed with the renovations of the storehouses as planned,” Thomas replied though his attention was soon drawn to a nearby group of men struggling to hoist heavy sacks of hay onto a cart destined for the far side of the farm.
A sudden sneeze erupted from one of the men, causing him to stumble and drop the sack, which tumbled to the ground with a heavy thud.
A frustrated groan escaped him as he hurriedly tried to regain his balance. “Are you taking that tea I gave you? It should help with your cold,” his companion urged, quickly moving to assist him with the fallen load.
“Yes, but that blasted roof is still leaking, I tell you. No amount of tea will keep me dry when the rain’s seeping through like a sieve,” the sneezing man replied, scratching at his nose with an irritated grimace.
“A leaking roof?” Thomas inquired, stepping closer, his curiosity piqued by their conversation.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Mr. Bailey answered cautiously, casting a wary glance at the workers.
But Thomas was already striding towards them.
The men hastily set down their burdens and removed their caps, their expressions shifting from surprise to apprehension as he approached.
“Your Grace,” they murmured in unison, bowing slightly.
“Did I hear mention of a leakin’ roof?” he asked.
The two exchanged furtive glances, and the man with the cold nodded slowly. “It’s nothing serious, Your Grace. Just a bit of wood and a good hammering should suffice. I can manage it myself soon enough,” he added, attempting a nonchalant wave of his hand.
“I thought you claimed the repair was beyond your skills?” the other man whispered, elbowing him gently.
“Oh, yes, right! I can handle it, of course,” he quickly corrected, a nervous smile flickering across his lips.
Thomas observed their odd exchange, noting the tension coiling between them.
It was evident they wished to shield him from the harsh truth of their plight.
“No, this will not do. I insist on repairs,” Thomas declared firmly.
“And not merely for this residence.” He turned to Mr. Bailey.
“Ensure all lodgings and tenant houses are inspected for any necessary repairs as well. The rains can be merciless, and the cold is even more unforgiving.”
“At once, Your Grace,” Mr. Bailey replied, nodding earnestly as Thomas turned back to the men, who now regarded him with a blend of gratitude and trepidation.
“You have my word,” Thomas continued, his tone softening just a fraction.
“No man should suffer under a leaky roof when I can do something about it.” He gave a reassuring nod, and the men exchanged relieved glances, their shoulders visibly relaxing.
The two workers shared wide-eyed looks. “Thank you, Your Grace! You don’t know what this means to us,” one stammered, his cap clutched tightly in his hands. “Yes, we thought it’d be ignored,” the other added.
Thomas waved a hand dismissively. “It’s only repairs,” he replied, a hint of a smile breaking through his seriousness. They were people under his care, and he was simply carrying out his own responsibility towards them.
He turned to head back to the castle, and he had only taken several steps when he heard one of the men say, “See, the Duke’s a good man. We should have told him sooner, and your Louisa would not have caught that horrible cough.” Something tightened in his chest, and with it came a harsh memory.
He was sixteen, and his mother had been home with a fever that had been brought on by working in the rain while Thomas was out in the same precarious position, so they could eat.
He staggered under the weight of heavy logs piled high on his back, the sky rumbling ominously above him.
The scent of damp earth filled the air as he rushed toward the shed, desperation fueling his movements.
Rain began to fall, each drop a sharp reminder of the urgency to get the wood inside before his employer returned.
He slipped on the slick soil, the ground betraying his hurried steps, and a log pressed painfully against his ribs as he tumbled to the ground with a grunt. As he struggled to regain his footing, a sharp kick landed against his side elicited a gasp.
“Get up, fool!” his employer barked, the words sharpened with impatience. “Finish yer work before the rain soaks me wood!”
As he pushed himself upright, another kick landed, this time more forceful, but Thomas gritted his teeth and stood tall, determination igniting within him.
He resumed hauling the logs, the storm’s fury matching the relentless demands of his master.
Each step felt heavier, yet he persevered, driven by the fear of failure and the need to prove himself.
Thomas shook his head to dismiss the thought. No one should work in the cold such that it hurts them, no matter how low in status they were.
Back in his office, Mr. Bailey cleared his throat, the sound echoing like a warning bell in the stillness. “Your Grace, I must confess, the late Duke had little regard for the plight of his tenants.”
“Pardon?” Thomas’s brow knitted in surprise, the words striking him like a cold wind.
The steward’s gaze held steady, unflinching. “I could not help but observe your reaction to the workers’ gratitude earlier. They are wholly unaccustomed to their master displaying such concern for their welfare. Your kindness was as astonishing to them as their astonishment was to you.”
Bailey’s expression darkened further. “In truth, the late Duke would have viewed any request for assistance as an affront, punishing those who dared to ask for help. He regarded his tenants and laborers as little more than cogs in a machine—mere instruments for profit.”
A chill crept through Thomas at this revelation, each word a bitter reminder of the man he had inherited from, a legacy he wished to distance himself from.
“We are all human beings, Mr. Bailey, deserving of dignity and compassion. It is our duty to look out for one another,” he declared, his voice steady.
Bailey’s lips curled into a satisfied smile, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Indeed, Your Grace. Lushton truly has a duke now.”
With a nod, Thomas issued further instructions, his heart swelling with a sense of purpose. He understood the weight of responsibility that came with his title, having toiled himself to make ends meet.
As he exited the office, Thomas caught the sound of lively chatter drifting from the hallway leading to the Duchess’ study. Intrigued, he followed the noise, discovering Hester amidst a flurry of activity, directing maids and footmen as they rearranged furniture with a practiced efficiency.
The moment he stepped into the room, the servants paused, casting quick, apprehensive glances at their mistress.
“A gathering in my own house, and yet I was not informed?” Thomas remarked, an eyebrow quirking playfully.
“Would you have volunteered for the heavy lifting, Your Grace?” Hester shot back, a teasing glimmer lighting her eyes. “Pray, what would you like moved?”
Thomas rolled up his sleeves with a grin, ready to lend a hand.
Her laughter rang out, bright and infectious, warming him from within.
He let his gaze roam the room, taking in the organized chaos.
Hester appeared to be crafting an embroidery station on the left side, surrounded by vibrant fabrics and spools of thread that spilled across the table like a painter’s palette.
Amongst the disarray, one item stood out—a canvas bearing an unfinished tapestry, adorned with intricate Celtic designs, far more elaborate than the delicate handkerchief-sized pieces he had previously admired.
“Close your mouth, Your Grace. You’ll catch flies,” Hester chided, a playful smirk dancing on her lips as she caught him staring.
“You said you merely dabbled, but this is truly magnificent, Hester,” Thomas replied, awe evident in his eyes as he stepped closer to admire the artistry.
“Merely magnificent?” she countered with mock indignation.
“Indeed, it is a marvel,” he insisted, his eyes sparkling with genuine admiration. “Ye possess a rare gift, my dear.” Hester’s cheeks flushed a delicate rose, and she busied herself with a spool of thread though the smile threatening to break free revealed her delight.
“Well, I do hope to craft something worthy of your praise,” she replied, glancing up at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“I have no doubt ye shall,” he answered, feeling the burdens of the day lift as warmth enveloped them.
“I see ye’re beginning to forget yer humility as well,” Thomas teased, a playful grin spreading across his face.
“Living with you? It scarcely stands a chance,” she laughed.
As he surveyed the study, now transformed, a thought ignited in his mind. “Perhaps I could arrange for a proper workspace for ye, a surprise to unveil later,” he mused.
Just then, as she reached for a box perched precariously on a nearby shelf, her foot snagged on a pile of fabric, sending her into a stumble.
In an instant, Thomas stepped forward, catching her before she could fall. Their bodies pressed together, her back against the cool wood of the shelf, and he felt a familiar rush of warmth at her closeness.
“Do ye ever look where ye’re going?” he murmured, his breath mingling with the scent of her hair, the moment echoing memories of their wedding night when he had caught her in a similar embrace, both of them collapsing onto the sofa in laughter.
She fit perfectly against him, and he found himself reluctant to release her.
Just as he leaned closer, a sound from the hallway broke the spell, causing Hester to perk up, her cheeks blooming that delightful shade of pink once more.
“Oh, I best have this all finished before dinner,” she said with a sheepish chuckle, her eyes sparkling with mischief as Thomas gently released her.
“Very well, I shall leave ye to it,” he nodded, lingering at the door a moment longer.
He strode down the hallways toward his sports room, a need for an outlet consuming him.
Boxing seemed a fitting remedy for the restless energy surging through him.
However, upon entering the room, he was reminded of the broken training dummy he had neglected to replace during his last visit to the country.
“Leighton!” he called for his butler as he stepped back into the hallway. “The sooner I procure a replacement, the better.”