Page 55 of Duke of Storme (Braving the Elements #4)

“ G ood morning,” Mrs. Alderidge greeted. “How are you feeling this morning, Your Grace?”

Irene considered her answer and concluded it was better to lie to the housekeeper than cause her to fuss. “I’m well, thank you. I slept very well again.”

“I’m glad.” Mrs. Alderidge was fussing over some linen, taking one sheet at a time and working her fingers around the edges to check the stitching before placing each sheet in one of two piles.

The sleeping well part was not a lie. It was the only time Irene didn’t feel alone. Even when she was alone in her dreams, there was not the same feeling of loneliness that came when she was awake. But now, even as she conversed with the housekeeper, she felt alone.

“Was the breakfast satisfactory?” Mrs. Alderidge asked, not looking up from the linens.

“It always is.” Irene licked her lips as she remembered the feast that had been laid out for her. She wanted for nothing when it came to food. “Four mornings, I’ve sat and eaten the best breakfast of my life. Do you know what time His Grace takes his breakfast?”

Mrs. Alderidge finally looked up. She stopped what she was doing and placed her hands on her hips. “It’s never the same time every day, and he usually breaks his fast in his study anyhow. You’re not planning anything, are you?”

“No, no at all.”

The last time Irene had interacted with the Duke was in his study, where he’d made several demands.

They had not started off on the right foot, and it was clear they would never see eye to eye, but his anger toward her was far better than his indifference.

She’d rather feel something than nothing, even if that something was his wrath.

“His Grace does not like his routine to be disrupted,” Mrs. Alderidge cautioned.

“I don’t intend to do that at all. I only wish to know a little more about him so I can act accordingly.”

Mrs. Alderidge studied her. Irene might be the lady of the manor, but it was obvious the servants’ loyalties lay with the Duke.

“You are acting just fine,” Mrs. Alderidge assured her. “It is welcome to have another person in the manor, and I urge you to continue in the way you have. Keep to yourself, and you will have no quarrel with His Grace.”

“And if I have to be around him?” Irene questioned. “What is the best way to deal with him so the interaction is nothing but pleasant?”

Mrs. Alderidge held Irene’s gaze much like the Duke had previously. Yet, the looks were different. The Duke’s look was stern, while the housekeeper’s was curious.

“What are you planning?” she asked.

Irene twirled a length of wool from the edge of her shawl around the fingers of her left hand. “It’s quite the opposite. I wish for no plans, no quarrels, and no mischief.”

Mrs. Alderidge’s lips curled into a sly smile that lit up her face. “No one mentioned anything about mischief.”

“No, of course not. But we don’t want any mischief, do we?” Irene returned a smile of her own.

Mrs. Alderidge sobered up. “We all have duties, Your Grace, and His Grace does not take kindly to any upset. I beseech you to keep that in mind.”

Just as she had matched her smile, Irene matched her seriousness, too. Her smile vanished, and her fingers started tugging at the wool. “I will keep that in mind.”

She knew it was wrong to be so defiant in his study, and his look had scared her, even though she was proud of herself for standing up to him like Cordelia might have.

“You must,” Mrs. Alderidge insisted.

There was a brief silence between them before she cleared her throat and said, “Now, is there anything else I can help you with, Your Grace?”

Irene nodded. “Yes, there is. That is why I came to see you, though I appreciate the advice regarding His Grace. As I already noted, I have been here for four days, and I need to put myself to work, or I might drive myself crazy. In fact, when I last spoke to His Grace, he informed me that I could run the household. Can you direct me where I might be needed?”

“Oh…” Mrs. Alderidge trailed off. “I manage the servants, and they do a fine job. I hope you don’t?—”

Irene raised her hand. “Please. I don’t want to step on any toes or get in the way, and I certainly don’t wish to take any work from anyone.

I am terribly restless, and if I spend my days wandering the halls with nothing to do, I will become positively bored.

There must be something I can take care of.

It will help me feel more at home here if I can be a part of the manor. ”

Mrs. Alderidge had a few stray grey hairs that were only visible in the right light.

“Yes, I have just the thing. The library could do some organizing. His Grace is a great collector of books and reads on occasion when he’s not busy, but the books are stacked on the shelves with no rhyme or reason.

If you wish to take on a project, you might arrange the books in a way you see fit. ”

Irene brightened. “That is just the thing! I shall put my mind to that and not dwell on other things.”

“Do you know where the library is?” Mrs. Alderidge asked.

Irene nodded happily. “The positive thing about wandering the halls is that I’ve learned where most of the rooms are.”

“You’ll have your work cut out for you,” Mrs. Alderidge warned. “I shall have some tea and cake brought to you for elevenses, so you eat if you lose track of time.”

Irene beamed at her. “I appreciate you so much, Mrs. Alderidge. Thank you again.”

“You are quite welcome, Your Grace.”

Irene walked off with a skip in her step. Her mood had been soured by her interaction with the Duke a few days ago, but if she could avoid him and put her mind to something, then there could be some happiness to be gained.

Still, it would be nice to feel something again. I was with my first husband for a short time, but I gained much more from him in that time than I ever will from the Duke.

She made her way to the library and entered it for the first time.

Rich mahogany shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, and books filled most of them. An ornate brass and crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the room.

Irene walked toward the window that was currently flooding the room with light, and her heart felt a little lighter in her chest as the rays warmed her body. There was still frost on the ground outside, but that would soon give way to the new growth of spring.

She thought about returning to her quarters to change into something more floral and flowing. She might have if she had been assigned a maid—something the Duke had forgotten.

Oh no, I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten at all. He has done it on purpose, to spite me.

She turned away from the window and walked to the rolling ladder, pushing it gently down the shelves. She was not brave enough to climb it just yet. Still, it was fun to push it back and forth on the rails.

I must cling to the tiniest pleasures in life.

The carved fireplace on the west wall cracked quietly, orange sparks jumping into the air like fireflies in the forest. On the mantelpiece stood a black bust, and upon closer inspection, she found it to be Samuel Johnson.

She rolled up her sleeves, both physically and metaphorically, and went to work. The first thing she had to do was check the books one by one to get a sense of the task she was tackling. Once she had an idea of the books in the library, she could begin to devise a plan.

Two hours later, when the footman wheeled in a cart laden with tea and cakes, he had to weave through piles of books to get to the armchairs by the table.

“Would you like me to pour you some tea, Your Grace?” he asked.

“No, that is quite all right.”

If I can dress myself, I can serve myself.

She brushed a lock of hair from her left eye and tucked it behind her ear. She would pin it back up with the rest later. Now that the tea and cakes had arrived, she realized how famished she was.

She went to the cart and poured some Earl Gary, then added two sugar cubes. She used to add only one back home, but it felt like a rebellion to add two.

Back home? That’s not my home anymore, is it? This is my home now.

Irene placed a lemon tart on the ornate plate and sat down, placing it on her lap.

She lifted the tart and bit into it. The tartness of the lemon overwhelmed her senses immediately, but only for a short time before the rush of sugar followed.

She sipped some Earl Grey, finding it sweet, but not overly so after a bite of the tart.

The desk to the right of the fireplace seemed to beckon to her, and something pushed her up from her seat to investigate it. She pulled open the top drawer to find a pile of letters. She took them out and spread them on the desk.

Some were addressed to her, some to them both, and one to the Duke. She took the letter addressed to her husband to the footman standing just outside the door.

“Will you please deliver this to His Grace?”

He took the letter from her. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Irene went back to the desk to study the letters addressed to her and them both. She began with the letters that bore a broken wax seal.

The first three were invitations to balls, dinner parties, and other events. The next two were congratulations on their marriage. The two after that were more invitations to events.

As she read through each one, she dreamed of attending them. She knew she had to pretend when she and the Duke were in public, but she would trade that for being around other people, for listening to music, for conversing and dancing, and perhaps for a good laugh.

As she went through the mail, she set aside the letters that had not been opened, only reading the ones that were opened and had her name on the envelope.

“What the deuce!”

Irene spun around to find the Duke in the doorway. He held onto each side of the door frame, blocking any exit or entrance. He looked like he might keel over if he let go of the wood. His eyes scanned the piles of books, of which there were many, before they landed on her.