Page 24 of The Duke Steals a Bride (Stolen by the Duke #5)

Chapter Twenty-Four

“T he girls have grown so big!” exclaimed Lady Canterfield. She turned to Christine. “I must admit, Your Grace, that it still astonishes me. It seems like only yesterday that they were babes in my arms.”

The lady sighed, reaching into her pocket for a lace handkerchief, wiping her eyes, in an almost dramatic way. Christine noticed that the lady’s eyes were dry.

Christine could see why Isabella had said that her aunt seemed like she was pretending—even though Lady Canterfield acted like she cared deeply about the twins, there was an insincerity in every word and action, as if she were playing a part on a stage.

They had arrived at Canterfield Hall two hours ago. Lady Canterfield had been effusive in her greetings, kissing the girls, who had endured the affection, but didn’t seem to relish it. The luncheon had been a grand spread, but the girls were restless, kicking the table and barely eating, as their aunt drilled them about their lessons. It had been almost embarrassing.

After luncheon ended, the lady had led them to the gardens, where the girls were presently running about the lawn, playing with two golden cocker spaniels.

Christine and Lady Canterfield watched them while they sipped tea beneath a gazebo.

“This tea is rather bitter,” Christine said, barely managing to restrain herself from grimacing, placing the cup back on the saucer. “But perhaps it is a blend with which I am unfamiliar.”

The lady turned to her, smiling brightly. “How astute you are, Your Grace! It is indeed a new blend from the Indian continent.” She picked up her own cup, sipping it with delight. “I discovered it in an exclusive tea shop in London and I have it specially delivered now.”

“Really?” Christine forced a smile onto her face, wondering why the lady was so enthusiastic about the tea blend. It was truly dreadful. “That was lucky.”

“It was,” enthused the lady, nodding vigorously. She leaned toward Christine, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I have it on good authority that the Queen herself insists on serving this blend at all times now. It is supposed to have powerful health benefits.”

Christine nodded, trying to look interested in the subject, but her eyes kept straying to the girls. Lady Canterfield was rather intense.

“And I agree with Her Majesty,” continued the lady slowly. “Since I have been drinking it, my energy has increased, and everyone has complimented me on my glowing complexion.”

The lady took a long sip of her tea, closing her eyes momentarily in bliss. She opened them, staring straight at Christine. “You should finish your cup, Your Grace. You will get used to the bitterness. Before long, you will barely notice it.”

Christine smiled politely, picking up her cup, and sipping the tea. It wasn’t getting any better. Quickly, she drained the cup, finishing it once and for all. There was an acrid aftertaste in her mouth.

“Thank you,” said Christine, in a stilted voice. “It was most refreshing.”

“You are very welcome,” said the lady, in a sweet voice. She paused, giving Christine a long look. “I hope we can become the very best of friends, Your Grace. Tell me, how are you settling in to your new life at Ironstone Castle?”

“It has been…challenging,” admitted Christine, with a sigh, her heart skipping a beat. “But I am finding my feet. I am taking it one day at a time. The castle is so large, there is so much to attend to, and then, there are the twins…”

“I am certain you are trying your very best,” interrupted the lady, leaning over to pat Christine on the hand, as if she were comforting a very small child. “Ironstone is palatial. I recall my late sister struggling with the duties of the castle, as well. But Rose won over everyone in the end.” She gave a tinkling laugh. “I am very sorry that His Grace was not able to call today.”

“He was sorry he was not able to make it,” said Christine quickly, trying not to flush. She didn’t like lying. “He is attending an important meeting. He sends his regards.”

“How kind of him,” said Nora, smiling brightly. “My own husband, Lord Canterfield, sends his regrets that he was unable to attend today and meet you, as well.”

“Yes, it is a pity,” said Christine, gazing at the lady curiously. “Where is Lord Canterfield?”

“He is attending to business in the village,” replied the lady, in a vague voice, waving her hand in a dismissive way. “Dear Arthur always finds ways to keep himself busy. He is such a dear man.”

Christine nodded, not knowing how to reply. Lady Canterfield seemed like she was fond of her husband, but how much of what she said was an act? She thought about what the duke had told her, that the lady had been forced to marry a gentleman who was old enough to be her grandfather, and that the lady was happy, or at least at peace, with the arrangement. Could it be true?

She gazed around the immaculate gardens, and then toward the large, impressive three-story sandstone house. Although not as grand as Ironstone, it was still an imposing estate indeed. The Marquess of Canterfield was clearly a very wealthy gentleman. Lady Canterfield was dressed impeccably, as well. Christine noted the dramatic diamonds sparkling in her earlobes. They looked like they cost a king’s ransom.

Perhaps she is truly content with her lot. After all, she is a very wealthy lady. It might not matter to her at all that her husband is elderly and she will never have children.

“Have you been married for very long, Lady Canterfield?” she asked, holding her breath, wondering if the question was intrusive, given that they barely knew each other.

“Just two years,” she replied. “Why, Arthur and I are still like newlyweds, in so many ways!”

Christine raised her eyebrows. “Indeed?”

The lady leant closer to her. “I was very fussy before I met Arthur, rejecting suitors constantly. I thought that I would never find my match.” She paused dramatically. “Arthur swept me off my feet, well and truly. I barely noticed the age difference between us. I am indeed blessed, Your Grace.”

“How lucky you are,” said Christine, with a kind smile, managing to stifle her surprise. “A happy marriage is truly a blessing.”

The lady reached over and patted her hand again, staring at her, in a knowing way. “I know it must be hard for you being second choice for His Grace—knowing that his first choice was your sister.” She gave a heavy sigh. “We all have our crosses to bear in this life, Your Grace. Hopefully, His Grace will come to accept you in the fullness of time.”

Christine’s smile froze on her face. Once again, the lady’s words were kind, in theory, but they made her feel awful, and shabby. As if she could never be good enough for the duke, no matter how hard she tried.

“Are the girls starting to accept your presence?” The lady kept gazing at her steadily. “I have heard whispers that they have been testing you mightily.”

Christine bristled. “What whispers? Who have you been talking with?”

“Oh, no one in particular,” said Nora, waving a dismissive hand in the air, with a loud laugh. “One just hears rumors! I am certain it was exaggerated.”

There was an awkward silence. Christine picked up her teacup then put it down again. The cup landed in the saucer with a sharp clatter.

“More tea?” asked the lady, picking up the teapot.

Christine shook her head. “No, thank you.”

At that moment, Isabella ran up to them, panting hard, her cheeks glowing. One of the cocker spaniels was on her heels, barking uproariously.

“How pretty you look in that lovely lemon gown, Isabella!” Lady Canterfield cried, putting down the teapot. “I do believe it is your color. It enhances your beautiful blue eyes.”

Isabella stared at her aunt, cocking her head to the side. There was a strained silence.

“You must thank your aunt for the sweet compliment, Isabella,” chided Christine, in a gentle voice. “It is polite.”

“Thank you, aunt,” Isabella said, in a mechanical voice.

“Take a cake,” the lady said, with a smile, reaching for the plate on the table, which was piled high with small, iced cakes, and offering it to the girl. “Your late mother was very fond of cakes. She used to gobble them up when we were children. Bless her memory.” She dabbed at her eyes again with the lace handkerchief.

Isabella hesitated. Christine nodded to her, and the girl finally accepted a cake, mumbling her thanks.

“Come and get a cake, Beatrice!” the lady called to Isabella’s sister, waving vigorously. The little girl was still running around the lawn with one of the dogs, who was fetching a ball. “They are fresh from the kitchens this morning!”

Beatrice stopped, gazing at her aunt, then shook her head, running in the other direction. Christine gave a small sigh. It was unlike Beatrice to refuse the offer of cake—the little girl had a ferocious sweet tooth. But perhaps she was simply distracted by her play.

“When are we going home?” Isabella demanded abruptly, looking at Christine, wiping crumbs from her mouth.

“Very soon,” Christine replied, with a small smile. She didn’t feel like staying much longer at Canterfield Hall, either. But it was too soon to make their leave just yet. “You may play for another half hour. Run along now.”

Isabella turned, running away, her dark ringlets flying in the wind, with the dog by her side. There was another awkward silence.

“Perhaps we could take a walk along the path where the roses are blooming,” Lady Canterfield suggested, with a bright smile. “They are particularly lovely at this time of year.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Christine said, desperate for the distraction, getting to her feet. “I do so love roses…”

Her voice faded, as a wave of acute dizziness overtook her, causing her to reach out a hand to steady herself on the garden chair. She took a deep breath, fighting back nausea. Within a moment, it had passed, as quickly as it had arrived, like clouds passing over the sun in the sky.

“Are you quite well, Your Grace?” Lady Canterfield’s eyes were wide with distress. “Are you able to walk?”

“I am perfectly well, Lady Canterfield,” Christine said, trying to smile at the lady. “I must have stood up too quickly. A walk will be very welcome.”

The lady nodded, inclining her head. They headed toward the path, opening their parasols against the glare of the sun, walking in silence.

Christine tried to focus on the rose bushes, which were indeed beautiful, blood red and pale peach and creamy white, blooming with abandon, their perfume wafting in the air.

She watched a butterfly alight on a petal, its blue wings spreading wide, before flying away again.

She took a deep, shuddering breath. The wave of dizziness was puzzling, but it had completely passed now. Perhaps it was just the brightness of the day. Or the awkwardness of the company.

Somehow, she didn’t think she would be forcing the twins to visit their aunt often.