Page 5 of Her Lion of a Duke (Dukes & Beasts #3)

Cecilia wanted to enjoy her new life, but she could not.

She wanted to trust her husband, to believe that he had her best interests at heart, but after all the time they had known one another, he had never hidden anything from her. Now, she had proof that he had kept something from her, and on their wedding day, of all days.

She had not wanted an animal in the house, and if she were being honest, Brutus frightened her a little. But after throwing a stick several times, she found that she was warming up to him.

Leonard was right; the dog would not harm her. He was simply a very large dog that believed he was very small, and it made him rather clumsy. She enjoyed her time in the garden with him in the end, and when she returned inside, with him at her heels, she thought he was quite the welcome addition.

Playing with him had also been the perfect way to relieve some of the stress that had been building within her of late.

“I see His Grace has brought his little friend.” Mrs. Herrington smiled. “I hope that he did not give you too much trouble.”

“Not at all! He is a very friendly little thing, even if he cannot help but bound rather than walk.”

“He is very excitable. His Grace has had him since his brother’s death. He needed a companion, you see, and at least a dog does not talk back.”

Cecilia chuckled and followed the housekeeper through the hallway and into the drawing room. It was unchanged from her last visit and was the most homey room of the estate.

“I suppose it is strange being here,” Mrs. Herrington commented. “You were a guest before, and now you’re the mistress.”

“It certainly feels bizarre. It is as though it is not my home at all and I am only visiting.”

“You will get used to it in time, though His Grace has said that he is more than happy for you to change everything. We would all be perfectly happy to see some changes.”

“I shall see to it soon. For now, I would simply like to adjust to my new role. I did not expect to be a duchess.”

“Believe me, you may take all the time you need. We have been running the household for years, and we will gladly continue to do so while you learn. We are simply pleased that His Grace has taken a wife he likes.”

“Has he told you that?”

“It is quite evident. He keeps to himself, usually, but while you have been here, he has been wandering the halls, as though he is looking for you.”

Cecilia sat down on the blue settee, deep in thought. Leonard had never been known as a recluse. He was very sociable, even if he preferred to keep his circle small. She never would have assumed that he spent most of his time alone.

“Do you suppose that he misses his brother?” she asked absentmindedly.

“He most certainly does. Why do you ask?”

“Well, for a start, I have known him for several years, and he has never once mentioned him.”

“Is that to say that you did not know Lord Henry existed?”

“I knew he existed, but only because of the circumstances under which His Grace and I met. It was at a ball, and all the young ladies swarmed around his brother. One even accosted him to secure an introduction. I remember feeling great pity for him at that time. However, had I not been in attendance that evening, I never would have known. His Grace never talks about him.”

“I… I did not know that.”

“Did they dislike one another? I wondered if that was why he never spoke of him.”

“On the contrary, they were very good to one another. I will not pretend that their bond was perfect, but it was good. Leonard—His Grace, I mean, had begun to envy the late Duke before he passed. Lord Henry was always the perfect little boy and then the perfect duke. It is no surprise to me that they had their issues, but His Grace would never have caused any harm to his brother. I know that much.”

Cecilia shifted in her seat. It was a strange thing for the housekeeper to say. There had been no suggestion from her that Leonard had done anything to his brother, and she had refuted the claim regardless.

“I know what they say about him,” Mrs. Herrington continued, looking her in the eye.

“It was all I heard in the year following Lord Henry’s death.

His Grace was envious. He wanted the life of a duke: power, money, and the ladies.

He was desperate to have his brother’s life and was willing to do the most awful things to obtain it. Truly, I heard all of it.”

“And?” Cecilia prompted, feeling rather foolish.

“And none of it was true. I know it must have been awful among the ton, given how the scandal impacted us servants. I suppose you heard much of it yourself.”

“I did not,” Cecilia admitted, shaking her head. “I do not engage in gossip very often. It is not conducive to intellect, nor is it very interesting for the most part. Not only that, but I spent most of my time out in Society avoiding the gentlemen.”

She had not expected to spend the afternoon with the housekeeper, but Cecilia remembered her from her visit and liked her a good deal. It was nice to have a friendly face nearby, and she was grateful that she had been so readily accepted.

Brutus entered the room, thumping down ceremoniously at Cecilia’s feet. He looked up at her with big brown eyes, and she could not help but smile.

“We do want you to feel at home here,” Mrs. Herrington said gently. “I understand that it is a lot of change, and I will not pretend not to know your reasons for marrying His Grace, but I hope that in time, you come to appreciate your new life.”

“I shall do so rather easily, I believe,” Cecilia murmured. “My husband has told you why we got married, then?”

“A mutual agreement. He is protecting the family name, and you are helping your cousin. That is all we said to one another. Strangely, he had made his decision not long after protesting that he did not want to marry.”

“It was the same for me. I did not want to marry at all, and I was perfectly content with being a spinster, but then I thought of Clara and how I was hurting her prospects, and I had to change my mind.”

“What would you have done had you not married? I assume that you had given some thought to that, for you do not strike me as a fool.”

The truth was that Cecilia had had an income for years, but she could not reveal that.

It was improper for her, as a young lady, to provide for herself, and she could not risk telling the housekeeper in case she told Leonard.

He was an understanding man, but she did not want him to take offense.

He might assume she would continue to work because she did not think he had enough money.

She worked to maintain a semblance of freedom, after all. The small fortune she had accumulated did not matter half as much.

“I should have liked to be a governess,” she explained instead.

“I may not always have adhered strictly to the rules of Society, but I know what they are. I also would have been able to teach children, and offering them guidance would have given me a sense of purpose. Being a wife… it simply is not the same.”

“It might not be the same, but you will at least have children of your own to care for,” Mrs. Herrington reminded her. “There are many ladies like you who see marriage as the end of their lives, but that is not the truth. You will find your purpose outside of your role, Your Grace. Believe me.”

It pleased Cecilia a great deal to know that she was supported, but her heart ached regardless. She wished to continue her work, which she just realized would have to become a secret.

She did not want to keep secrets from Leonard, for he had been good to her, but she had no other choice. He could not know what she did, so she would do everything in her power to hide it.

It would have been easier to forget about that part of her life and live in luxury and pretend she was nothing more than a wealthy duchess, but the thought of it made her nauseous. Her work was all that she had had for the longest time, and she could not give it up, not for anything.

Not even for her husband.

Leonard spent the rest of the day in his study, and she did not see him at dinner. She would have been grateful for that; it gave her time alone, but she could not help but wonder why he had so willingly left her without his company.

It made sense for her, for she was keeping secrets, and it was easier to do so when not in his presence, but what was his reasoning? She could only assume that it was because he was hiding something from her, too.

She felt like a hypocrite for that, but she did not care very much. She pierced a potato with her fork and held it near her lips absentmindedly.

Her husband was not a stranger to her; he was her friend, but they had never been so distant from one another as they were now, now that they were married. She almost regretted the decision she had made, but then she thought of Clara and knew that she could not.

As long as Clara married well, then it would all have been worth it.

The following morning, she received a letter. She quickly recognized the handwriting as that of her cousin, and she unfolded it excitedly.

My dear cousin,

I know that it is not customary to write to someone on their honeymoon, but I cannot help it. I have thought about you since the wedding, and I am more than happy to wait until you come back to London to receive my response.

I realized as you were leaving that I never thanked you properly for what you have done for me.

I know that we cannot say it in so many words, and that if anyone asks, you are in love with your husband and living in bliss, but I know you.

You did all of this for me. I was hoping that I was wrong, but then I heard my mother telling her lady’s maid that she was grateful for your sacrifice.

I know that you had ambitions, and I can only hope that you have not lost the ability to attain all of them for my sake. I would have been fine, I think. Then again, I will not pretend that you have married for nothing. I have had no end of suitors since word of your marriage spread.

I hope to see you soon. I spoke with Lady Beatrice at your wedding breakfast, and I know that your friends will visit you soon. I envy them, for I cannot leave London. I have far too much to do here, and though I am enjoying it, I must admit that I wish you were here to help me with it all.

I will see you when you return to London. I shall be counting down the days once I know how many remain.

Sincerely,

Lady Clara Punton.

Cecilia smiled as she read the letter, then refolded it neatly and placed it in a drawer. It gave her the reassurance she needed to know that she had married for a good cause. Clara was at last receiving the recognition she deserved, and that was something to be happy about.

It made greeting Leonard much easier, at least. Cecilia found him in the parlor, sitting on the settee with a drink. She hovered in the doorway for a moment, not wanting to intrude.

“I shall invite my friends to visit soon,” she explained. “Shall I tell Emma that she can bring Levi with her?”

“That would be wonderful. Dorothy may bring her husband, too. Their children also, if you wish. Will it be for a day or a week?”

“A week would be nice. How long are we supposed to wait? I do not know how long a honeymoon should last.”

“Ask them to come visit next week. I could invite them for you, if you wish.”

“Oh, no, that will not be necessary. Thank you, though. I will also invite my cousin, but that may have to wait for a while. She is too occupied with the gentlemen throwing themselves at her.”

“Wonderful. If she has too much to do, we could always return to London. I certainly would not mind leaving this place.”

Cecilia could see in his eyes that he did not want to remain there for too long.

It was strange, for it was his family home.

If anything, she should have been the one longing to leave, as it was not her real home.

However, she was quickly adjusting to her new life while he seemed desperate to escape it.

“May I ask you something?” she asked, moving to sit beside him.

“Of course.”

“Why do you hate this house?”

“I do not hate it.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, and he smiled sadly.

“Very well,” he sighed. “I do not like being here. I know it could be a beautiful home, and it once was, but now I look at it and remember my family. My mother died here; I was in the room with her when it happened. My father was the same.”

Cecilia gasped softly, biting her lip. “I am sorry. That must have been awful.”

“We knew that it was going to happen. They were unwell. My brother carried on as though nothing had happened, and he encouraged me to do the same, but I could not. I would look into their rooms and remember everything, and it would paralyze me. I hated it, and in turn, it made me hate this house.”

They both fell quiet for a moment, Cecilia not knowing what to say. Then, she tentatively reached out a hand to tap his thigh, smiling at him sympathetically.

“We could leave,” she suggested, “if you do not have any good memories of this place.”

“No, it is our home,” he replied firmly. “I just need to find some good in it.”

“We can arrange that,” she promised.

And, despite everything, she meant it.