Page 8 of Ravished by the Beastly Duke (Regency Beasts #1)

CHAPTER 8

“ Y our Grace, the rugs have been dusted as you asked,” Amy, one of the upstairs maids, reported to Eveline. “Shall we replace them now or use one of the newer ones?”

“Replace them now,” Eveline told her. “Let us use the newer ones for the foyer. We might receive guests soon.”

The maid curtsied and walked away.

A few other servants arrived to report the progress they had made on the tasks Eveline had assigned them, and so far, she found the tasks both exciting and burdensome. Her waking hours had been all but consumed with chores, and more often than not, she found herself wondering if there truly was any joy to marriage. It seemed all there was, was task after task.

She had thought the estate perfect, but upon closer inspection and further discussion with Mrs. Herbert, a list had been drawn up, and she had organized the tasks from the most important to the least important. Eventually, they would organize balls and events as required, but until she had the Duke’s approval, she decided to focus on restoring the estate.

The areas of the walls overrun by weeds had been cleared, and the bedrooms long since forgotten had been cleaned in the event they had to host guests—which she looked forward to. Then, there was the task of upgrading the storehouse for the produce to be stored in winter, and many more things she found boring.

She had learned to appreciate the effort Ava had put into running their home while raising them. For the past few days, the only moments of freedom had been meal times and a few hours of respite she fought for. She had to oversee most tasks, or they might not be done to her standards. The servants were competent, but she was particular about many things—which she was starting to regret.

Eveline had not had much of a hand in household matters in her father’s estate, and she discovered quickly that she had been spoiled. Yes, she had received the theoretical education, but she had to rely heavily on Mrs. Herbert, who did not show her an ounce of judgment despite how lacking she was. The woman had been nothing but patient, offering praise and gentle correction when necessary. It was like having a mother, and the feeling, though unfamiliar, made Eveline smile.

She looked over her list of tasks and checked off all that had been accomplished, worrying her lip at the remaining tasks. If she were to continue, it would carry even up to dinner, and she sincerely did not want to spend her whole day handling chores. She had spent the better part of the week doing so, and now all she needed was a respite. But there was hardly any entertainment in this remote estate. She had exhausted her delight in embroidery, and the loneliness she had felt the past few days was starting to overwhelm her.

She had barely even seen the Duke since their wedding night, as if he was making every effort to avoid her. She, too, had been making an effort to avoid him, but considering he was the only one in the estate who could speak to her, she couldn’t help but wish their situation was different. The silence in the estate was a far cry from the loudness of the household she had grown up in.

Sighing, she decided to take a turn about the gardens. She had been impressed by the horticulture and was thinking of bringing in more flower species. But aside from the polite greetings, she had yet to propose her ideas to the gardener.

The sweet scent of the flora hit her as she approached the garden, and her mood instantly brightened. An involuntary smile spread across her face the deeper she went, eyeing the array of flowers. She had yet to learn the history of the gardens, but she assumed that one of the previous Duchesses had supervised it.

She spotted the elderly gardener trimming the hedges and walked over to him. He lowered the shears, bowing deeply when he saw her.

“Your Grace,” he greeted.

“How are you today, Wilson?” she inquired, smiling at him.

A broad smile stretched across his face, which caused her to smile wider. He appeared to be in his forties, with silver streaks darting across his dark hair, and seemed to enjoy his job, as he was always whistling a tune.

“I am well, Your Grace.” He smiled. “I assume you aren’t here to only enjoy the flowers today.”

She saw him glance at the list in her hand and nodded.

“I would like to make some changes in the gardens,” she told him, before explaining some of them.

He nodded, smiling excitedly. “I am sure His Grace will be very pleased with your ideas, Your Grace.”

“Indeed?” she asked.

She wanted to erect a pavilion right in the middle of the gardens, where she could have tea on days when the weather was favorable as well as include some of her favorite flowers.

“Indeed. The garden is one of his favorite places in the castle.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment, wondering what else he might know about her husband. She wanted to ask, but it seemed improper to coax information out of a member of his staff.

“Is anything the matter, Your Grace?” Wilson asked. “Have I said the wrong thing?”

“Not at all,” she was quick to assure him. “You just seem to know the Duke well.”

“Oh, I know many things about His Grace.” Wilson smiled. “He was a rather simple lad, finding joy in the littlest things. I taught him all he knew about flowers, since he spent a lot of time in the garden.”

“Why did he like the garden so much?” Eveline inquired with a smile, trying to picture the dark-haired and blue-eyed lad her husband had been.

She would have thought he had taken to play and exercise, as young boys were wont to do.

“The garden was the one place he found refuge from his father,” Wilson answered, dropping the shears he had been holding as his face took on a solemn look.

Eveline frowned at the sadness in his words.

Why would the Duke have needed refuge from his father?

Nothing short of abuse would cause a boy who should be learning at his father’s side to flee.

“Did… Did the Duke’s father…” She tried to ask the question, but the words felt too heavy, too forbidden to escape her mouth. “Was he an unkind man?”

Wilson nodded. “Every time His Grace disappointed his father, a lashing was sure to follow.” A lone tear ran down his sun-weathered cheek. “It was a sad thing to see, as His Grace was so small and sickly when he was a wee lad.”

Eveline felt a pang of sadness in her chest as she pictured a younger version of her husband weeping because of his father’s anger.

“Why did his father treat him so?” she asked angrily. “Where was his mother? Why couldn’t she stop the injustice done to him?”

Why would any woman allow her son to be treated so terribly?

Wilson’s face darkened further, and he lowered his head.

“The Duchess died birthing him,” he answered grimly. “That was why his father hated him so. His mother designed this garden right after she married his father, and after she died, he never stepped foot in it again. That was why His Grace came here whenever he was sad. It was the only place he could find solace from his father’s anger.”

Eveline clapped a hand over her mouth and lowered her head. Guilt hit her hard for misjudging the woman who had birthed the Duke, and she felt sad as she empathized with what her husband had experienced in his childhood. The pain she felt for him was so strong that it winded her.

To be blamed and treated by his father in such a terrible way for the loss of his mother was a more terrible fate than the snobbery she and her sisters had endured from their father. She had thought her pain immense, but now she knew that her husband had suffered more than she had.

How could she ever look at him again without letting it slip that she knew?

She looked at the castle again, seeing the grey walls with new eyes as she pictured the Duke as a little boy cowering in the gardens.

It was a blessing that his mother had created this haven even if it wasn’t used as intended.

“I am happy to see that you have kept the gardens so well, Wilson,” Eveline offered. “I shall rethink my decision to make any changes beyond what is appropriate. I do not want to take too much away from the design. The Duke needs this connection to his mother.”

“I thank you for your praise, Your Grace.” Wilson smiled. “But I think His Grace might greatly enjoy seeing your touch in what was once his safe place. It might do him good. It would at least wipe the sour memories he may have of this place.”

Eveline smiled back and nodded. “You shall advise me on the matter, then.”

“It shall be my pleasure.” Wilson beamed. “I know it is not my place to say so, Your Grace, but I am grateful for your presence here. You have brightened the castle since you arrived, and I hope you have also brightened His Grace’s heart.”

Eveline was tempted to coax more information out of the kind old man, who seemed relieved by his master’s marriage, but she hesitated, knowing it might drive an even bigger wedge between her and the Duke if he knew she had been inquiring about his past.

“I thank you for your help so far, Wilson,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “I shall leave you to finish your work, then. We shall discuss the flowers at another time.”

Wilson bowed as she turned to leave, whistling a happy tune as he resumed his work. He was ignorant of the fire of pity he had lit in Eveline’s heart, which no amount of sighing had been able to quell.

Needing a respite from her dark mood, she decided to head to the library to begin organizing the space. There had been a fine layer of dust on almost every surface, and with most of the staff busy with the tasks she had assigned them, she would be working alone. The activity would offer a good distraction to her racing mind.

With her hair tied and her apron on, she settled into her task after waving off protests from worried maids and footmen. Already, she had dusted the tables and a reading nook by a window she looked forward to utilizing once she tired. She was humming a tune to herself as she reached for a tome a step above her.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” a voice yelled suddenly from behind her, startling her.

She had been standing on her tiptoes as she stretched out her hands, and in her fright, she missed her step and felt her other leg slide off the ladder she had been standing on.

She closed her eyes as she braced herself for the pain that was sure to come when she collided with the floor. Instead, she felt herself land squarely against something hard. Bands of steel wrapped around her, but there was no pain. She heard a groan but had not yet opened her eyes.

“I sincerely hope there is a good explanation for what I just witnessed,” said a voice from above her.

She opened her eyes and found herself staring into her husband’s irritated face, realizing he had caught her and she was now wrapped tightly in his arms. The position brought her close to the long column of his neck and the expanse of his chest she glimpsed beneath the open collar of his shirt.

Over the past few days, she had noticed that, unlike her father, her husband did not see the need for proper dress in his own home, so he took to wearing a linen shirt which he left unbuttoned at the neck, a pair of woolen breeches, and his old boots.

Her cheeks flamed at his proximity, and she dipped her head to hide it as well as how unflattering she must have looked with dust coating her.

“You must unhand me, Your Grace,” she advised. “I am covered in dust, and I do not want to ruin your shirt.”

She looked up at him again, eyeing the tufts of hair on his chest, and cleared her throat to rein in her thoughts.

He really was too tempting.

“Perhaps you should have considered that before attempting such a task,” he scolded. “Unless you have a death wish, you should reconsider.”

“I am wearing an apron.”

“It only makes matters worse.” He glared at her. “There are servants here for this. I do not like seeing my wife dressed as a servant.”

“You really must unhand me.”

“No,” he answered stubbornly. “I am afraid if I do, you will attempt to continue your foolishness.”

“It is hardly foolishness when I am trying to do a good deed,” she argued, frowning. “The library needed cleaning.”

“Which could have gotten you killed,” he pointed out, still glaring at her. “Why are you doing this when I have a houseful of servants to do it?”

“Anyone could get hurt from this task, and I wasn’t in any danger until you startled me,” she countered.

“There’s a reason I have the number of footmen I do.” He scowled. “If you wanted to assist, you could have been present in the room to supervise. What if someone saw you?”

“Have you received any visitors lately?” she asked pointedly.

“That is beside the point.” He frowned.

She raised an eyebrow, and he sighed, slowly releasing her. He did not drop his hand from the small of her back until he was sure she could stand on her own.

“My point remains the same, wife. It is not seemly for a duchess to engage in such menial tasks,” he chided as if she were a child. “It would not reflect well on me if news of this were ever to leave the walls of this estate.”

Eveline nodded in understanding, not wanting to argue with him any further.

“It was only because I wanted a distraction that I undertook this task,” she admitted. “And I already assigned the staff to other parts of the estate, to see to other matters.”

He nodded once. “You should find another activity to keep you occupied.”

“I would not have to if my husband agreed to keep me company sometimes,” she retorted. “I do not mean to complain when you saved me, but I… I have felt lonely these past few days, and tasks can only occupy me for a time. I do require human interaction. You took me away from my sisters, and as much as I am grateful to you for saving me from total ruin, it is hard to cope in this silence.”

“I…”

She saw him eyeing the door and turned to block his path.

“I have followed your other rules, haven’t I?” she asked with a frown. “I haven’t returned to your chambers since our wedding night. I am not asking you to reveal your secrets. Just spend a little time with me, so I do not lose my mind in this large castle.”

She tried not to let her loneliness show, but her words were heavy with it. Being accustomed to a routine with her sisters, it was hard to adjust to the silence that she had endured since she had been brought to his estate. She could hardly befriend the staff, as they scurried off after performing their duties. Her duties did not keep her so occupied that she did not have spare time, but walking in the gardens and embroidery quickly bored her.

She sighed, already knowing her husband would reject her, and turned to the shelves before her. Some titles stood out to her—perhaps she would take some to her chambers for her nighttime reading. She reached out to a tome that stood out even more, but her hands never touched it as she felt his hand on her other arm.

Her eyes widened as she studied his hand on her arm. She looked up at him, but he was also eyeing his hand. Heat traveled up her arm as her heart beat a staccato in her chest.

“I know I haven’t performed my husbandly duties, but surely you can understand—” He stopped suddenly, shaking his head. “I make no promises to fulfill your every request, but what would you suggest I do to make our situation more bearable for you?”

His question opened so many possibilities, but she knew if she wasted this rare chance and asked for something that required more time than he would be willing to share or a hint of vulnerability from him, she would lose it for good.

“I would like us to at least share a meal,” she suggested. “I know you rise earlier than I, and you have lunch in your study, so we can eat dinner together.”

His brow creased as he contemplated her suggestion, and as much as she found the action boyish, she needed to expound her suggestion so he understood fully what she required of him.

“I suggest this to be a permanent ordinance,” she added quickly. “And you shall stay until the end of the meal.”

He was silent for so long that she braced herself for his rejection.

“I accept your suggestion,” he answered suddenly.

Her head snapped up as hope bloomed in her chest. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said, I accept your suggestion,” he reiterated. “I shall have dinner with you every night.”

Elation filled her at his answer despite his cold tone, so much so that she couldn’t suppress a smile.

“I shall see you at dinner, then,” she told him.

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips, but he quickly masked it and turned to leave.

“Please do not attempt to climb that ladder again, or I shall be forced to rescind our agreement,” he warned.

She nodded even though he couldn’t see her.

As if she would.

When he stepped out of the room, she was finally able to breathe freely, remembering what had driven her to the library in the first place. Grief filled her again.

She couldn’t fault him for his personality when he had never truly known kindness.

Eveline swore she would take it upon herself to brighten the castle for him. It must have been dreadful for him to return to the estate where he had suffered so much abuse, and now that she knew, she would attack her duties with a renewed ferocity, but first…

Now that he had accepted her suggestion, she was strongly aware of how unappealing she looked covered in dust and such an unflattering gown. If she were to at least keep his attention, she needed to ensure she was well dressed—albeit not too much that it was improper. There were too many choices to make, but she also had to ensure that the menu was to his liking.

With her plan already taking shape in her head, she untied the apron and cap around her head and hurried to the kitchens. After all, it was not every day that a lady ate with her husband.