Page 23 of Her Lion of a Duke (Dukes & Beasts #3)
Leonard was rather hoping that Cecilia would not want to attend the fair. It was not an unpleasant day, and he had often enjoyed attending, but he wanted to stay home with her.
Everything had happened at once, and he wished to take some time to simply exist. As a duke, however, there were duties that he had to fulfil. So if his duchess wished to attend, he could not argue the contrary.
Once they had arrived, his wish to stay home quickly dissipated. The village had come alive, decorated with bunting and filled with treat-laden tables. Children were playing, and it was impossible not to feel the atmosphere when they were greeted every minute.
“This is wonderful,” Cecilia gasped beside him. “Is it like this every year?”
“It is similar,” he replied, looking around, “though I have never seen them make this much of an effort.”
Cecilia did not seem to understand what he had meant. The villagers had done this for her; he did not doubt that.
The first game was tug-of-war, which Leonard always watched.
The strongest men in the village assembled to take part, and it was entertaining to watch the losing team fall into the mud.
Onlookers would cheer incessantly, and the winners would receive a bottle of brandy each that Leonard had donated.
It was good brandy, and so the game was ferocious.
“Will you be joining them?” Cecilia asked expectantly. “It appears that they are missing a man on one side.”
Leonard looked at the men and realized that his wife was right. There were six on one side, but only five on the other. He looked back at Cecilia, who was gesturing for him to join them.
“I cannot,” he replied. “I do not want to ruin my clothes.”
She raised an eyebrow, laughing. “You have never cared about such a thing. What is stopping you from taking part?”
The truth was that Leonard took great pride in his physique, but he was no laborer.
The men in front of him were stocky; they must plough fields or carry heavy materials every day.
They were far more fit for the game than he was, and if there was one thing that a duke could not do, it was to appear weak.
“Would it entertain you to see me fall in mud?” he asked.
“Greatly.” She smiled sweetly. “I have never seen you do anything like this, and now that the opportunity has arisen, I am intrigued.”
He smiled, shaking his head, and went to join the men. The team of six looked at him, startled, and he raised his hands reassuringly.
“There will be no consequences if you win.” He chuckled. “Give me everything you’ve got.”
That was all they needed to hear. They took their places, and the game began.
Leonard had expected great strength, but what those around him had not expected was for him to match their level. He pulled hard, his muscles straining against his shirt as he did so. He tensed, leaning back and widening his stance.
The audience cheered, and he could distinctly hear Cecilia’s voice above the din. She was egging him on, and he found himself using even more strength than he thought he had.
The game lasted for what felt like hours, but he knew it had only been minutes.
“Pull them over, Your Grace!” Cecilia called. “Show them what a Kingsman is made of.”
That was what he needed.
Without thinking, he mustered more strength and tugged the other team to their knees. Dirt splattered around them, and as his team stumbled backward, he felt something hit his trousers. But he did not care. Cecilia had encouraged him, and it had helped his team win.
He gave a bottle to each player and a second to his teammates, as he felt it unfair to participate while also being the one to give away the prizes. When he returned to Cecilia, he saw the smile that he had been missing for the last two days.
“Did you enjoy that?” he asked.
“Tremendously,” she gushed, wiping a smear of dirt from his cheek. “I did not know that you could be so strong.”
“Didn’t you? I thought it was well known that I am a dangerous and frightening individual.”
“Yes, well, I do not tend to gossip.”
They weaved through the crowd and soon found themselves in the archery field. Leonard felt Cecilia stiffen beside him when a round was announced, and he saw the way her eyes lit up.
“Do you want to participate?” he asked.
“I cannot,” she replied, suddenly bashful. “It would be improper for a duchess.”
“On the contrary, I believe they would all love to see it. Nobody will say a word against you, remember? If you wish to take a turn, then you are more than welcome to.”
She nodded firmly, then left him where he was.
She joined the gentlemen waiting for their turn, and Leonard watched as she laughed and joked with them. She had always been a good conversationalist, had always been noticed in a way he was not.
He did not know what it was about her that made people like her so much, but he knew that he was just as affected by it.
She was the last to take her turn, and as she watched each man miss the target, Leonard could see her begin to doubt herself. He had never seen her loose an arrow, nor had she mentioned it before, so he did not know what to expect of her.
When her turn came, he watched as she straightened up, took the bow and arrow, and approached the firing spot. She had watched the other men and copied their stance perfectly. If she was uncertain of herself, she was not going to let anyone see it.
She drew back the arrow and loosed it.
And she hit the center of the target.
The applause was riotous, and when she turned to the audience and curtseyed, it only grew louder. Leonard could see the blush in her cheeks, and his heart soared when she turned to look at him.
He wanted her to look at him always.
“How did you know to do that?” he asked when she rejoined him.
“You must not laugh at me,” she warned. “I used to accompany my father on his hunting trips. I hated it when they found a deer and shot it, so my father taught me how to use a bow and arrow instead. When they went on their hunts, I used to stay home and practice firing arrows at the apples in the orchard instead.”
“It was wise of him not to arm you with a pistol,” Leonard drawled, grinning.
“As if I am any less lethal with arrows.” She laughed softly. “Truly, they wonder why I was never meek and demure. This was all their fault, if you ask me.”
“Then I know who to thank.”
Cecilia smiled, and they continued on their way through the village. One woman, one of the cunning folk, was reading fortunes, and when she saw the two of them, she rushed to join them.
“Come with me,” she said. “I insist. No charges.”
Leonard turned to Cecilia, who merely shrugged and followed the woman. He did the same, sitting beside Cecilia while the woman read their palms and drew cards.
He had never believed in anything of the sort, but he had to admit that there was a strange energy surrounding the woman. Cecilia, on the other hand, was completely invested, listening intently.
“The two of you are happy,” the woman said with a smile. “I see long life lines in your palms, so you will have so many good years.”
As she continued reading the cards, however, her brow creased.
“Interesting,” she murmured.
“What is it?” Cecilia asked.
“Deception,” the woman replied. “Though you are both kind to one another, I see lies and secrets. This could be anything. Perhaps one of you has been sneaking scraps to your dog?”
Cecilia chuckled nervously, while Leonard wondered just how the woman knew about Brutus.
“Whatever is being hidden must come out,” the woman continued. “That is the only way to find true contentment.”
They left quickly after that.
“How strange,” Leonard said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing.
“Indeed. Do you have anything to confess?”
He did, of course. He needed to tell Cecilia about Henry’s appearances, and hearing that it was a deception ate away at him.
Suddenly, Cecilia nudged him playfully.
“Come now,” she quipped. “Such things are not real. It was an excellent guess about Brutus, though.”
Leonard let out a laugh, but he could not shake the woman’s words from his mind.
By evening, he could see that his wife truly needed to return home. She was stifling her yawns, but when nobody was looking, she allowed a few to escape. As they said their goodbyes, however, an older lady approached them.
“Before you go, Your Graces,” she said quickly, a bundle in her arms, “the villagers would like to give you this gift. It took the women weeks to make it.”
Leonard thanked her and took it, unraveling it to reveal a delicately embroidered quilt. Each square looked slightly different, meaning that every lady had made a square in her own way.
“Oh,” Cecilia gasped. “This is beautiful! Thank you.”
They returned home, Cecilia holding the quilt to her chest the whole ride.
“This is truly exquisite,” she noted. “Where should we keep it?”
“You may keep it in your room, if you wish. The women made it, so while they claim it is for us, it is more likely meant for you.”
“Do you think so? I cannot believe it. It is so beautiful.”
She turned to the stairs excitedly, but Leonard cleared his throat, halting her. She turned back with a curious look, and he asked a maid to take the quilt to her room.
“I need to speak with you about something.”
She paled, and he knew that it was going to be a difficult conversation.
“Shall we go to the study?” he asked, and she nodded.
Once there, he slumped in his chair, but Cecilia paced. He could see the tremors in her hands, the discomfort in the way her eyes darted around the room.
“There is nothing wrong,” he began, trying to soothe her. “Not with you, at least.”
Her shoulders relaxed, and she took a seat, but her gaze was still wary.
“It is me,” he continued. “I have been trying to tell you, but I did not know how. The fortune teller made me realize that I cannot wait any longer, however.”
Already, he could see Henry out of the corner of his eye. He willed him to disappear, just this once.
“What is it?” Cecilia asked, following his gaze.
“It is Henry. I… I see him sometimes.”
“In your dreams?”
“In my study.”
Cecilia looked around, but of course, his brother was not truly there. She looked back at Leonard, confusion flickering in her eyes.
“I am a madman.” He laughed bitterly, raking a hand through his hair.
“It has been like this since his death. He comes to me, and I talk to him. I know I am imagining him, and I am crazy for it, but I do not know how to make it stop. It does not matter what I do, or how I try to distract myself, he is always—he is always there. The only time I have any respite is when I am with you.”
She remained still for a moment, and then she rose from her seat. Leonard wondered if she was going to leave the room, pack her belongings, and make good on her promise to her parents by returning to them.
Instead, she rounded the desk and lowered herself on his lap, holding him close.
“You never got to say goodbye, did you?” she asked. “He simply disappeared, and you never got to say anything to him. It is no wonder that you cannot let him go.”
She had seen right through him once again.
“I want to. I want to make him go away, but he will not leave. I do not know what to do. If I tell anyone, they will lock me away. They probably should.”
“That is nonsense. He was your older brother, Leonard. You needed him then, and you need him now. It is your way of still having him to guide you, and there is no insanity in that. Believe me, I do not see you any differently.”
Of all the reactions he had expected, understanding was not one of them. Accepting, perhaps, or resignation, but not that.
“I should not need him. I am a man, and I am now older than he ever was. I should know far more than him.”
“Perhaps you do, but you still need him. I am older than Beatrice, and still, there are times when I need her. If this is something you cannot rid yourself of, why are you trying so hard to fight it? If you ask me, it is wonderful that you can remember him so vividly after all this time. He would be proud of you, you know?”
Leonard chuckled sadly. Henry would not have been proud of him. If he were still alive, he would find fault with everything he was doing.
At least, the version of Henry that he imagined did.
“Have you always been spiritual?” he asked.
“I have, yes. Many people think it is the work of the devil, but I do not see how our own palms could be anything like that. If they are, then surely we are all demons, no?”
She raised her palm, and he pressed his own to it. Her hand was small, dainty, but it burned into him. He relished her touch, which was why he did not point out that she was still sitting in his lap. They remained there for a while, neither saying a word.
For the first time in years, Henry disappeared without Leonard having to walk out of the study.
“Are you certain that I am not mad?” he whispered into her hair.
“We all are,” she murmured, “but that is nothing new to me. I think that we are all the better for it.”
Leonard chuckled, and eventually he could feel Cecilia grow heavier against him. She had fallen asleep, and he did not dare wake her. Instead, he carried her to her bedchambers, gently laid her in her bed, and kissed her forehead.
He could not believe his luck.