Page 19 of Her Duke’s Secret
CHAPTER 18
T he sound of violin music filled the halls of Ridlington Manor later in the week as Harry made his way from his chambers to his study. A smile curved his lips as he paused at the music room door and peered inside. Arabella was standing by the window, her eyes closed, the violin resting under her chin. Her hand glided over the strings as she played, while the most revered tutor stood before her, giving instructions.
This was her second lesson that week, and Harry had to admit she was far better than he had thought. He hadn’t attended any of the lessons, though she hadn’t invited him. He had listened and had even thought about bringing out the harp and playing with her, but he had decided against it because it would only encourage her to think that there was something more between them.
It was becoming exceedingly difficult to stay away from her, he had to admit. He had given in to dining with her once this week, and it had been a pleasant experience. However, he realized he was enjoying her company too much, and therefore declined further invitations to dine or breakfast together.
They had taken rides around the estate together, accompanied by Brandon and Mabel, so that she could meet the tenants. But he had made sure to keep his distance, either riding ahead or making sure that Brandon rode between them to avoid unnecessary conversation. This troubled her; he knew it from the way her expression changed whenever he made a conscientious effort to keep his distance.
He didn’t want to be cold or distant, but he couldn’t help it. If they grew too close, there was a chance that she might unravel his secrets. And then, what would she think of him?
He stepped into his study and sighed. He left the door open on purpose so he could continue to hear the music—there was something soothing about it. He was supposed to be preparing the ledger because his uncle was due to call in the next day or two to discuss the business, but he didn’t feel like it. Instead, he went to the chest by the window and opened it.
Leather binders stood against the back of the chest, and he picked up one, undoing the carefully knotted loop. The binder fell open, and a selection of sketches spilled out. The drawings were rendered in graphite pencil on parchment. Some of them were older, the parchment already yellowing and the drawings faded, but others were new. He smiled as he saw himself in a number of the sketches.
He smiled, though melancholy filled his heart when he came upon some that showed reflections of his parents when they were alive, and himself as a boy. He sighed deeply as he glanced at the artist’s signature. They lacked a full name and had only the initial ‘H’ in the bottom right-hand corner.
“Those are beautiful!” a voice came from behind him, and he jerked backward.
“Arabella,” he said, startled. “I didn’t know you were here.”
He quickly began gathering the drawings, which he had placed on the floor.
“Did you make these?” Arabella asked as she stepped closer.
He felt sweat bead on the nape of his neck as he swiftly returned the drawings to the folder, tied it, and carefully dropped it back into the chest. Then he rounded on her.
“Arabella, it is impolite to simply appear in a man’s study. I could have been working. I could’ve been with one of my business partners.”
She blinked, the color draining from her face as she stepped backward. “But you were alone. I… The door was open. I could see you. Pardon the intrusion, but I don’t think I did anything wrong.”
“At Hayward Manor, was it permissible for you to sneak up on your father in such a manner?” he barked.
However, when he saw the way her shoulders jerked and her eyes widened, he recognized the fear in her expression. He’d seen it too often in his life.
“I beg your pardon, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You startled me, that’s all. These drawings are personal. I didn’t make them, but they are of my family.”
She raised her hand. “You owe me no explanations. I must be away.” She turned, but he followed her into the hall.
“Arabella, please. I do beg your pardon. I heard you practice. You play beautifully.”
She crossed her arms. “I play tolerably . And it is rude to listen in on someone’s music lesson.”
“Touché, touché,” he conceded. “I deserved that. In any case, you played beautifully, not tolerably. You must’ve inherited the skill from your mother.”
At this, she smiled a little. “Perhaps. I plan to practice this evening. If you like, you could join me.”
He wanted to say yes. He always found music to be terribly relaxing, but he hadn’t had anyone to play with him or for him for so long. But then, he reminded himself of the way she had looked at him so fearfully just moments ago, and he knew that he had to step back. The more time he spent with her, the more likely it was that he would say something to hurt her. She might discover things that would make her even more fearful of him.
“I cannot tonight,” he replied. “I am busy. I have to prepare the ledger. My uncle is coming later in the week to review it with me. He will expect to have dinner with us.”
“I suppose I will see you at that dinner, then. It seems there is no hope that I will see you before then. Very well. I will keep myself company,” she said and then walked away.
He wanted to stop her, to explain, but he knew there was no point. It was better this way for both of them. But he couldn’t deny that it hurt him not to be able to share their love of music, to be in her company. How strange it was that he should own a home as large as Ridlington Manor yet find himself and Arabella so alone. But such was life, and there was nothing he could do about it now.
Arabella stormed up the stairs, her gown billowing behind her as she rounded the corner and made her way down the hallway to her chambers.
“How dare he?” she muttered under her breath. “How dare he speak to me like this, then act sweetly and reject me? What am I to make of him?” She yanked open her bedchamber door.
However, the moment she stepped inside, she froze. Her bedchamber was in disarray. The canopy above her bed had been dismantled and lay on the hardwood floor. Likewise, the curtains that surrounded her four-poster bed, matching the hunting scene of the canopy above, were gone. Folded-up pieces of fabric lay on her bed. The ties that had held them together were scattered across the floor.
She hurried to the bell pull and tugged it, feeling the rough rope scrape against her palms. Moments later, Mabel burst through the door, and Arabella let out a little yelp. She had not expected the maid to arrive quite so soon.
“Your Grace,” Mabel said, a little out of breath. “I thought your music lesson was going to last a little while longer, so I wanted to take advantage. I do beg your pardon about the disarray.”
“What is this disarray?” Arabella asked, gesturing across the room.
Behind Mabel, she saw three footmen waiting to enter her bedchamber.
“We were working on putting up your new canopy.”
“My new canopy?” Arabella repeated.
“His Grace bought the material from town a few days ago and asked that we turn it into a new canopy for you. I was missing the top piece, and so I went downstairs to search for it. That is why your bedchamber is in such a state.”
“A new canopy?” she asked, aware she was echoing Mabel’s words.
“Yes, Your Grace. His Grace mentioned that you enjoy looking at the stars, so he ordered us to put up a canopy that looks like the night sky. We’ve been working on it below stairs for the last few days, fixing yellow and silver fabric to the blue to look like stars.” Mabel then walked over to the bed and unfolded the material, spreading it over the bedsheets. “You see?”
Arabella walked up to the bed and stared down at the fabric. It was a dark navy blue velvet, and sewn on it were hundreds of gold, silver, and yellow stars in different shapes and sizes. Harry had done this for her? He had ordered this for her?
She thought back to their walk in the garden at night. She had told him the story about the canopy Alexander had sent, which her father would not allow her to hang. She had known that he had paid attention to her, but that he would do this for her?
She ran her hand through her hair and shook her head. “His Grace did this for me? I don’t understand why. I didn’t think he cared for me very much.”
Mabel wet her lips. “His Grace is a difficult person to know. But he is not a bad person. He expresses his feelings in different ways, and I dare say if this is what he gifts you, then he is positively disposed to you.”
“Positively disposed to me? I wish his interactions with me would reflect this.”
As she looked down at the fabric in front of her, Arabella felt more confused than ever. Harry did all he could to stay out of her way, to reject her and keep his distance, and yet at the same time, he had found London’s premier tutor to teach her the violin, ensured that all her favorite meals were always served, and now he had done this.
Certainly, there was more to him than met the eye. But what was it that kept him from acting in her presence in a way that reflected these acts of kindness toward her?
Or could it be that all these acts were meaningless, and he only saw them as his duty as a husband to provide for her?
She exhaled sharply and shook her head, now more confused than ever.