Page 20 of His Extraordinary Duchess

Chapter Twenty

“W hat do you think?” Ben watched as Claudia studied his plans on the library desk the next day. He was ready to show them to the duke, but only if they met her approval.

“I think it’s very good,” she said. “You’ve made minimal changes to the character of the house, yet you’ve improved it a great deal. I can see where you’ve taken everyone’s needs into consideration. The staff will have better quarters, the kitchen will be more efficient, and our guests will be housed with greater style. And I know Georgina will make great use of that music room and everyone will enjoy the larger library and conservatory.”

Ben smiled, straightening from where they stood side by side. Even if the duke succeeded in his plan to marry off the dowagers, the house would stand him in good stead. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say. Thank you, Claudia. I could never have arrived at this design without your help introducing me to the staff and villagers.”

“Nonsense.” She straightened as well. “I am convinced you would have created something just as wonderful without any cooperation on my part. But I liked being involved.”

“I liked having you involved.” He glanced at the open door, then leaned closer. “I would love to have you involved in all my work, for the rest of our lives.”

Pink climbed in her cheeks. “As I said, you made a compelling case, sir, one that kept me up at night considering.”

Before Ben could respond, the duke strolled into the room. Claudia took a step away from Ben, and suddenly, the distance between them seemed insurmountable again.

“Mr. Kinsle tells me you would like me to see your plans,” the duke said, joining them at the desk.

“If you have time, Your Grace,” Ben said.

He smiled. “Show me.”

And so Ben explained what he was proposing and why, while Claudia stood so still and silent she might have been one of the marbles in the sculpture gallery.

“And this?” the duke asked, pointing to the addition near the west wing.

Claudia edged closer again. “That is particularly ingenious, Your Grace. Mr. Warden took our need for another sitting room into account. It is a conservatory, where we can enjoy the outdoors even in inclement weather. And farther along that corridor is the music room, where we can put the Broadwood and appreciate Georgina’s playing. From what I can gather, the acoustics will be particularly good.”

The pride in her voice made Ben smile, but he was careful not to look too doting as the duke’s gaze swept his way.

“I would also suggest moving some of the tapestries from the withdrawing room to the entry hall, Your Grace,” Ben said. “That should help dampen the noise when you have visitors arriving or leaving.”

The duke straightened with a nod. “Very good, Mr. Warden. Give me a budget and schedule, if you please.” He turned to Claudia. “Would you be so good as to accompany me on a visit this afternoon, you and your lady’s maid? There’s a tenant I must speak with.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” she said. “Shall we say three?”

“Perfect.” He clasped his hands behind his back and wandered out the door.

“Well done,” Claudia murmured to Ben. “You’ve won him over.”

Ben chuckled. “In truth, I was more worried about your opinion than his.”

“Very wise,” she said with a smile. “What will you do next?”

“I need to go into the village and ask about workers. I had some I’ve used in London, but this would be too far for them to travel, and I’d like to spare the duke the expense if I can.”

“I was to watch Oliver today,” she said, glancing out the door as if she thought to spy his son tiptoeing past. “Sophia and Georgina are driving to Grace-by-the-Sea.”

“I’ll be back before one,” Ben promised.

She blew out a breath. “And may I speak with you when we return from this visit with a tenant?”

Hope would persist. “Whenever you like. I am at your service.”

Now and evermore.

* * *

With Ben heading for the village and His Grace off doing who-knew-what, Claudia settled into the library with Oliver. On their trip to Grace-by-the-Sea, Sophia and Georgie planned to further the acquaintance of the young ladies Dr. Bennett had suggested for the duke so that invitations to dine would be more welcome. They couldn’t have taken Oliver with them on so delicate a mission.

But Claudia never minded spending time with the boy. Is this what her life could be like if she married Ben, cozy mornings and pleasant days, without the worry of managing so large an estate as Tyneham Manor? Never fearing she would be alone? Sweet looks and sweeter kisses?

She bowed her head over her correspondence lest Oliver see her blush while he sketched at the table.

And yet, the first three letters she perused had been marked as answered by a firm, confident hand she recognized as the duke’s. It seemed she no longer had to deal with the matter of an investment on the Exchange, the question over a bill from the grocer, or a decision as to which of the tenant cottages would be repaired first.

Her mother’s letter, however, was another matter. Claudia had put it off for days. Another, more desperate one would likely follow if she did not respond soon.

But what was she to say to them?

I have instructed the duke’s man of business in London to see to my brother’s debts, she began, quill moving across the parchment. However, where once I would have been guided by your and Father’s advice and counsel in matters of matrimony, I now find my own thoughts sufficient, thank you very much.

Perhaps a bit too ungrateful. Her parents had sacrificed to give Claudia her first Season, though she knew now it had been more a gamble for their future than any concern for hers. She crumpled up the parchment and reached for another kept on the brass tray.

I have instructed the duke’s man of business in London to see to my brother’s debts, but be advised that I will have no power to do so in future. His Grace, the Duke of Tyneham, will be making all decisions for the household. And I have no need for introductions to wealthy and powerful men. I know several. I have decided to throw them all over for an architect who finds me the most perfect of women. He won’t be paying for my brother’s debts, or yours, either.

She smiled imagining the horror on her parents’ faces.

“Does it tickle?” Oliver asked.

Blinking, she focused on the boy. “I beg your pardon?”

“The quill, does it tickle?” he repeated. “You keep tapping it against your chin. I thought it must feel odd.”

She slipped the quill into its holder. “I truly hadn’t noticed, which tells you how much attention I was paying.” She rose and crossed to his side. “How are you coming along?”

As she sat on the chair next to his, he angled the sketchbook for her to see. “I wanted to remember it, when we leave.”

The outlines of Tyneham Manor stood tall and proud. Claudia swallowed. “Very nice. Your father will be pleased at how well you rendered it.”

“It’s one of my first sketches of a building,” he confessed, smudging a line he apparently found displeasing. “I usually draw people or animals.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Claudia said. “Would you show me your latest?”

He obediently flipped the page back. “This is Anastasia.”

The little pug grinned up from the page, tongue protruding.

“Her very likeness,” Claudia assured him.

“And this is Mr. Kinsle.”

He’d caught the man with the impish grin he’d worn when he’d been a cocky footman.

Oliver came to another page and made to pass it. Claudia reached out to stop him. “And who is that?”

“You.”

She stared down at the drawing. He’d captured her at the piano, for she could make out the line of the sheet music. There was a look of ferocity on her face, of determination, as if she intended to master the complicated measure. And under it all, she saw the loneliness and weariness she hid from others.

Once more she swallowed, and her voice came out rough. “Is that how you see me, Oliver?”

“I didn’t draw that one,” he said. “Father did.”

She rocked back in her seat, fingers flying to her lips.

Oliver shut the book, eyes widening. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No, Oliver, never!” She put her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Your drawings are wonderful. So was your father’s. Forgive me for startling you with my reaction. Great art does that to people—makes them feel things.”

His face scrunched. “Is that good?”

“Yes,” she promised. “It’s very good. It helps us understand other people and places. I daresay it even helps us understand ourselves. Thank you for sharing your work with me.”

He pushed the book away from him. “May I go see how Anastasia is faring?”

The dog had been consigned to the care of Morrigan, one of the new maids, while Georgie was out. A bright-eyed young lady with hair the color of copper and a winsome smile, she and Anastasia had taken to each other, and Georgie had begged Mrs. Carmichael to reassign the chambermaid to her. Claudia wasn’t sure dog nanny was a promotion, but both Georgie and Morrigan had been pleased with the arrangement, so Claudia had not interfered.

“Of course,” Claudia told Oliver, releasing him. “But if Morrigan is bathing her, stay well away unless you wish to be doused as well. Anastasia has been known to make large messes.”

“I’ll be careful,” he promised, rising.

Claudia waited until she heard his steps on the stairs before pulling the sketchbook closer again and staring at Ben’s drawing. He had frequently praised her managerial skills, but anyone might have noticed that if they’d taken any trouble. Each stroke of the charcoal, each line and shadow, said he knew her. He portrayed her beauty, but he saw beyond that to the hopes and fears she hid inside. If she’d had any doubt about his devotion, this drawing silenced it.

A noise from the doorway made her raise her head. Mrs. Carmichael smiled apologetically. “Forgive the interruption, Your Grace. When you have an opportunity, I’d like a word.”

“Now would be fine,” Claudia said, closing the sketchbook. Far better to think about practical matters than the conflicted emotions inside her.

Her housekeeper came forward with a nod. She had settled into life at Tyneham Manor with admirable aplomb. Her hair was neatly confined behind her head, and her navy wool dress was simple and clean.

“It’s about dinner tonight, Your Grace,” she said.

Claudia frowned. “I thought we’d settled the menus.”

“And so we had,” Mrs. Carmichael agreed. “But there appear to have been some changes.” She glanced at the door, then back at Claudia and lowered her voice. “Sir Winfred brought the kitchen a bottle of wine. He said it was a special treat, to be served only to His Grace.”

One bottle would be insufficient to serve the entire table, but surely it would go farther than the duke.

“Is the vintage a particular favorite of His Grace?” Claudia asked.

“I doubt it,” Mrs. Carmichael said with a sniff. “The wine merchant delivered it by mistake once to Mr. Reubens’s establishment. We promptly sent it back. I would not advise it to be served to anyone, certainly not His Grace.”

Sir Winfred was not as plump in the pocket as he liked to pretend. Perhaps the bottle was the best he could do. But Claudia would not have it served at her table either.

“Have Cook pour it out,” Claudia instructed. “You needn’t mention it to Sir Winfred. If he questions you, let him know that His Grace thoroughly enjoyed his meal, which will only be the truth.”

Her face cleared. “Very good, madam. Thank you. And where would you like me to place the vicar at table tonight?”

“The vicar?” Claudia asked.

“Yes. His Grace told us he was invited to dine. I thought you’d invited him.”

Claudia gritted her teeth. “No, I did not.”

Mrs. Carmichael took a step back. “Forgive me, Your Grace. If I had known…”

“You would have been in an even more difficult position,” Claudia told her. “I do not expect you to intervene between His Grace and me, Mrs. Carmichael. I hadn’t realized the new vicar had arrived in Tyneham, but we would certainly have had him to dinner at some point. Apparently, that will be tonight. Put him between Sir Winfred and Georgina, across from myself, Sophia, and Mr. Warden.”

“Thank you,” she said, relief evident in her smile. “Is there anything you need of me?”

“No,” Claudia said, and her housekeeper bobbed a curtsey and left her.

Just when Claudia thought the manor could well run without her, His Grace proved himself singularly inept. Would he have insisted on the inferior wine being served? Would he have smiled that pleasant smile as everyone bumped into each other as they tried to determine where to sit?

Had he no idea what it meant to entertain properly?

Why do you care when you have a wonderful gentleman who adores you?

The thought was so strong it seemed to echo around the quiet library. Twelve years of caring. Twelve years of doing everything in her power to see to the safety and well-being of those who entered the Tyneham estate.

It seemed twelve years were not so easily thrown over after all.