Page 14 of The Duke’s Return (Dukes of the Compass Rose #2)

G enevieve let her disgruntled huff sit in the morning air. It lingered as she watched Julian take his leave with a lovely horse at his side.

Young and energetic, the creature was drenched in sweat but clearly eager for another adventure. She couldn’t help but compare the horse to her husband. He had acted almost antsy, shifting his feet and playing with the reigns during their conversation. Had he even noticed what he was doing?

She shook her head. “Strange man.”

It was obvious that he wasn’t feeling well.

The man was pale and grim-faced, even with sweat trickling down his brow.

It made one of his curls stick to his forehead while the rest clung against his scalp.

Even now her fingers itched to tend to the curl, though Genevieve told herself it wasn’t necessary.

He most likely wouldn’t even let me touch him. If anyone was a jumpy young stallion right here in the garden path, it would have been him more than the horse. Did he even realize he was making the horse anxious?

“Men don’t know anything,” she groused as she replayed their short interaction.

He had tried to smile but it had been too tight to be real.

That struck her as odd. The man had made a name for himself in his youth for his rakish behavior and charming ways.

Certainly much of what came out of his mouth would have been a lie.

He had to be good at it… or perhaps only when it was a flirtatious conversation.

A moment ago, Julian hadn’t tried flirting at all with her. She frowned and rubbed her hands together. Though he didn’t seem to feel it, the morning was a chilly one.

As Genevieve watched her husband disappear into the nearby stables, she decided against following after him to inquire of whatever seemed to be the matter.

He seemed determined to lie to her. She would not go tell him how obvious it was not the truth––this particularly seemed useful to keep on hand for another time in their conversations.

It would help her to know if he was lying. She wouldn’t share that with anyone else, keeping it for herself.

Along with the way even now his blue eyes made her heart skip a beat.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” Genevieve mumbled. She eyed the pansies by her feet that seemed to be looking up at her and mocking her. She had never cared for pansies. “I mean it, I do.”

It’s perfectly natural to feel this way, isn’t it?

There’s a reason Julian is considered so charming.

And we are married, so there’s nothing wrong about feeling…

Oh, but what a farce this all is. What good is it to be drawn in by him?

I cannot trust my own heart or the words off his lips.

What a predicament I have put myself into!

Walking back to the house, she didn’t think she could last the rest of her time there living like this. Feeling intimidated by the house, anxious around her husband, and nervous about the new household. These feelings wouldn’t do.

I can’t control everything and everyone. But I can do something.

“Good morning,” Genevieve said as she strolled inside and spotted the housekeeper, Mrs. Waverly, talking to one of the maids. “I was hoping I would find you. I’d like a full house tour today. Could you arrange it in your schedule or someone else’s?”

“Oh, I would be more than happy to escort you about. We only talked about half of one floor yesterday. Would you like to break your fast first?” Mrs. Waverly asked.

“I suppose I shall do just that; I would hate to tire out in the middle of the tour,” Genevieve added playfully. The woman raised an eyebrow, and she flushed. “I only… I don’t tire out quickly, that is. I only jest.”

The woman gave a slight nod before smoothing her lips into a polite smile that Genevieve decided not to get too hopeful about as the housekeeper went on to say. “Certainly, yes. I’ll wrap up the linens situation and meet you outside the dining room in an hour.”

“Half an hour,” Genevieve suggested instead, not wanting to give the woman the idea she took very long to do anything.

“Very well, Your Grace. Half an hour.”

They separated then to attend to their own matters.

A large splay of food was provided on the sideboard in the private dining room.

It took a minute for Genevieve to decide where she should sit––typically, women kept to their chambers in the early hours of the day.

She never had to worry about avoiding anyone once married and away from her husband.

Now, she didn’t know if he would join her or if he had a preferred seat.

“Shall I prepare a plate for you, Your Grace?” One of the two footmen asked nearby when she still stood without taking any action.

Smiling in the hopes of hiding her flushed cheeks, Genevieve shook her head.

“Thank you, but I shall do it myself. I’m afraid the entire sideboard smells too delicious, and I haven’t the stomach to enjoy a bite of everything here.

Would the two of you have any recommendations of where I should begin? ”

The kippers were apparently quite tasty, and so was the bread. She enjoyed thick slices of butter and eggs on her toast along with a side of the fish. After thanking the footmen and eating all that she could, Genevieve returned to the hall for Mrs. Waverly.

“My apologies I am late,” the housekeeper said when she arrived not three minutes later.

“Oh, you have nothing to apologize for,” she responded. “I didn’t need as much time as I expected. Is all well with the linens?”

Mrs. Waverly blinked before nodding. “Yes, only we’ll need to repair a few. Moths were discovered in the cupboard.”

“How dreadful! They are certainly a blight. What remedies do you use out here in the country to manage them?” Genevieve asked curiously. “I use a linen herbal spray in London.”

The two of them began to discuss moths and their destruction between the trailing conversation of Genevieve learning the household. Walking through the halls and trailing through each room, she discovered hidden away history mingled with beautiful architecture alongside lovely art.

“It’s so beautiful here, I wish I could paint every room,” she murmured when they moved up to the next landing. “You’ve done very well here, Mrs. Waverly.”

Blinking in surprise over the praise, Mrs. Waverly stammered for a heartbeat before saying, “That’s very generous of you. We were beginning to wonder if you might ever visit us.”

Right. The marriage. The union that is supposed to be a happy one.

“Oh, I wish I had.” Genevieve pulled the words out of thin air as she went on.

She was surprised at how easy the smile stretched her lips.

“After all, the stories from the duke were just darling. He cares very much for this estate. And all of you, of course. But we agreed upon wedding that I wouldn’t come here without him. ”

That made the housekeeper frown. “Yes, and then he took up with the navy, we heard. How frightfully unexpected.”

“It was unfortunate, but he cares greatly about England. I could not fault him for that,” Genevieve added. Pausing, she considered creating more lies on top of lies as the housekeeper darted curious looks her way.

The entire household will know everything I say before the day is over.

And with more servants coming in and out of town, I daresay the village will know everything by tomorrow.

But Julian and I never went particularly over anything that needed to be discussed; hopefully, he won’t say anything contrary to whatever lies I’m making up.

And I shall have to hope I remember everything I say.

“Shall we?” Mrs. Waverly said before leading her on. “Here is the ballroom. It’s connected to the conservatory.” She had her back to Genevieve a moment so she could smile in remembering Julian’s story the prior evening. “Perhaps one day we shall host a ball again.”

“Perhaps,” Genevieve echoed.

“Or I believe that London is your preferred home,” the housekeeper noted with such casualness it could only be feigned. “Do you enjoy the city?”

Lips twitching, Genevieve stepped further into the ballroom to consider its magnificent.

The ceilings were awfully high. She wondered if anyone could ever clean them.

Chandeliers hung overhead in almost a depressing manner, like they wished to be used.

Were they kept clean in the hopes that they would be used again soon?

She took in the various wallpapers and paintings that made for a merry room before finally answering the question.

“London is all I know. My father, the prior Viscount of Richester, never cared for the countryside. Nor does my mother. I never thought to leave until Julian–I mean, His Grace,” she stammered hastily as Mrs. Waverly’s eyes brightened. “Not until he spoke of here.”

Though she was embarrassed over the misstep of using his Christian name, especially around the household, it appeared to have done the trick. Mrs. Waverly warmed up neatly with a soft smile. “Then we are indebted to him for having brought you here.”

“You’re too kind. And you’ve been perfectly lovely with this tour. I know there is much to manage here, but thank you for your time,” Genevieve said with her whole heart. “I very much appreciate this.”

“It was my honor, Your Grace. We are glad to have you here.” Mrs. Waverly hesitated then.

The smile slipped as she glanced around before gingerly taking a step closer.

When she spoke, it was in a quiet tone. “In fact, we are glad for many reasons, Your Grace. With the recent tenant upheaval, it has been rather complicated for those are our friends and our families… I can only hope…”

Genevieve took her hand though it was a motion much frowned upon. Her mother would have a fit should she see this happen. But having grown up with three sisters, Genevieve knew the impact of physical touch could do wonders.