Page 23 of The Duke’s Return (Dukes of the Compass Rose #2)

H e didn’t think he had been very harsh.

Julian told himself this repeatedly with every stitch he made. Five in total, though they were each dreadfully slow and painful. Still, the silence was heavy between Genevieve and him while she stood across the hall and stared with a blank expression.

“I’m afraid I’m rather unwell now, please help tidy up,” she muttered when Mrs. Waverly returned with a basin of boiled water. “I need to lie down.”

While he hardly thought her the nervous type, he had apparently managed to make her one. Julian let out a quiet sigh as he watched her go.

Was he going to have to apologize? He didn’t like the thought of that.

I might have to just so she will look at me again. How am I supposed to apologize without talking about war?

All he meant was to change the topic. There wasn’t a chance in all the world he would have talked about his time abroad with his wife.

Genevieve was strong, to be sure. But she didn’t deserve to hear about the miseries he had faced.

The pain and the terror. She didn’t need to know of his nightmares and the shadows that lingered over his shoulders.

“Your Grace, may I?” Mrs. Waverly inquired while Julian was wrapping his hand and wrist now with a proper bandage.

“Hm? Yes, please. And can you see about salvaging that handkerchief? It belongs to Mrs. Riding and I promised I’d try to see it back to her. I’m a little concerned it can’t be salvaged but I think we should do our best,” he added.

She nodded, leaning closer to carefully fix the bandage before she start tying. All the while, she was careful not to touch him. “Certainly, Your Grace. We’ll do what we can, and then I’ll have Michael send it back.”

That had him shaking his head. “I should return to them in a day or two to follow up on our discussion. There was much we still need to say, I think. Besides, it should go a long way in offering reassurances. It will, won’t it?” he added after a pause. “You know the village better than I.”

Grudgingly meeting his gaze, the housekeeper offered a short nod.

She finished tying the bandage as she answered, “Your presence here is already helping. So long as you hear them out, I think you’ll do well.”

“Thank you. That is exactly what I intend to do,” he reassured her.

It used to be simple business. Visiting the town on occasion and talking to a tenant or two could solve most of his problems. He’d known many of them in his youth, and he had thought they would always think well of him.

But time could change many a thing.

As it turned out, Genevieve’s notes on the letters had been immensely helpful. She had caught a few troubling issues and patterns located between the letters. His men of business had done more to help his family than his tenants, which Julian didn’t appreciate.

If only I had known what sort of problem could arise from here .

“There you go,” murmured the tart-looking housekeeper. She straightened up and eyed him. “A hot bath is waiting for you in your bedchamber. We can have supper sent up to you afterward.”

“Thank you.” He stood but she didn’t budge. “Is there anything else, Mrs. Waverly?”

“No, Your Grace. Carry on. I do hope you heal quickly. We’ll find you a proper salve to mend the skin by nightfall, I think. And for your troubles, do make sure to hear them out,” she echoed emphatically.

Julian rolled his eyes. “I am, I…”

Then he paused as she moved away. Cleaning up the rest of the mess with the linens catching the water he’d dripped everywhere, Mrs. Waverly hastily tended the hall and then started off to tend to her cloth. He watched her go as he thought about what she said.

She’s not just talking about the tenants, is she?

“Lovely,” Julian sighed to himself in the empty space. “My housekeeper is giving me marriage advice.”

It appeared he needed it, seeing as he hardly knew what he was doing.

Yes, he should listen to everyone. A duke had the responsibility for countless others.

Though his father worked with the mindset that a duke always knew better for everyone, Julian had never seen that to be the case.

A duke merely had to help everyone discover and collect what was better for everyone.

Not that I took it particularly seriously after university, I suppose. But what could I do? I was a young buck. I needed to spread my wings and fly a little before being chained down.

Because, ultimately, he had been chained down.

Julian would never forget reading that contract for the first time. Hearing about his uncle, the man who had helped him grow into the role of a duke under this exact roof, how he’d wanted to claim Southwick for himself. The terms that required him to be married within three months or lose it.

“I don’t wish to marry. I never did.” He remembered Genevieve’s expression on their wedding day when he explained himself, believing it was best she understand the clarity of their union, so she had no expectations of him. “I will not seek an heir from you.”

The shock had been clear in her eyes. Confusion and suspicion, too, but she had been brave about the entire matter.

So he told her of his family, the one she had just married into. “They wished for my southern estate, which is a complicated sort of contract, one they could have taken should I not be married within a certain number of years after taking the title.”

Genevieve accepted this truth. She never asked for anything more beyond her own peace. She lived a quiet life just the way she desired. All must have been going well––until he returned.

Perhaps I am the menace in her life. Her anger is just. And on top of this all, she is a very clever woman.

What an annoying fact this was for Julian.

He preferred to think of her as a meddler, as a pawn, as a woman who needed him and gained from him in return.

Though he’d caught a glimpse of her strength back in London with the household, Genevieve proved her strong will even while facing down an injury she didn’t know how to take care of.

Julian walked toward his bed chamber and studied the bandage.

It was well-wrapped. The injury was unfortunate, but he didn’t think it would take too long to heal even if it did cross the side of his palm onto his wrist. That had been his mistake, having his hand in the way of the wagon spoke at the wrong time.

“We’re awful sorry for this,” Mr. Riding had said repeatedly while his wife frantically tried to staunch the bleeding earlier that day.

It had felt like an easy task at the time. They had been hiding out in their small stables when the storm took over. Mrs. Riding had four of her children to entertain while Julian had attempted to help with the useless wagon. All had gone well until he’d made a foolish mistake.

Repeatedly trying to reassure them that he would hold no spite against them, Julian gave up arguing to let his injury be seen to. Negotiations would not go further beyond that. He made certain the wagon wheel would work, then had taken his leave back toward the estate.

And now he was back here. His injury wrapped, Genevieve deserting him, and his housekeeper giving him advice.

“Mrs. Waverly, if only you knew what we are up to,” he muttered under his breath with a low chuckle.

Then he entered his bed chamber where he discovered his valet ready and waiting for him beside the tub.

Once Julian undressed and settled in the steaming water, he asked, “Can you have someone send the duchess some fresh tea and pastries? I think she went to lie down, but I’m worried for her nerves. Don’t tell her that.”

Off his valet went so Julian could relax.

Or somewhat. His mind kept spinning as it did of late.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the problems with his tenants and how they inevitably tied to his family and their actions.

Then he thought of the Riding family, and the previous four families he’d spoken to before them.

The pain in his hand was forgotten. And every now and again, Genevieve came to mind.

“Clever little lady,” he sighed and sunk in a little deeper.

Her notes had been invaluable this morning. Although his tenants had been ready to rail at him, once he shared what he knew and the questions he had, everyone had calmed down.

There was a folded-up list, assuredly damp but hopefully still useful, in one of his pockets. His valet had set it out to dry. Now, Julian had a number of matters to tend to for the village that had been ignored over the past couple of years.

I should have known even before marrying that I should check in here. My uncle has been coming and going for far too long with free reign.

The bath helped him to think clearly. Tired as Julian was from his day, he dressed and made his way down to the study to gather up several bills.

None of them were for purchases or services that he, his household, or his tenants had used.

Rather, they were all from various family members who all managed their own incomes while choosing to live beyond them.

Once Julian had the names all set up in piles with their bills, he folded them up neatly for the post. They’d be sent back out with neat little letters on the morrow.

It was beyond time, Julian had decided, to remind his family that he was not their bank.

They needed to be reasonable and not selfish.

This work had Julian feeling much restored, inviting him to manage several papers and issues until he began to tire of the effort. He sat back in his desk to stare at the bandage on his hand.

For a minute, earlier today, Genevieve had touched him there. She had tried with her limited knowledge to care for him. No one had done that for him before.

“Nice,” he mused. “It was nice. She was nice. But it’s not supposed to be that way. This marriage doesn’t mean a thing.”

Or so Julian told himself.

Why do I care? It makes no sense why she lingers on my mind. I shouldn’t care what she does. She didn’t really take care of my injury, not truly. And yet… she tried her best. And that was more than endearing.

He didn’t want to like it. He didn’t want to care.

Julian tried to brush the thoughts aside for some time. But when a footman came around asking if he was ready for his supper tray, Julian found himself saying instead, “Never mind that. I’ll eat in the dining room alongside my duchess. I’ve hardly seen my dear all day.”

Wondering if she would take umbrage for him not changing for the meal, Julian soon went to find her in the drawing room.

She stood there in the corner speaking with Mrs. Waverly, merely nodding at him when he entered.

“If we don’t have fish for tomorrow, that’s perfectly all right. We can use the lemon for chicken instead. Just take care of the spoiled meat since I don’t want anyone having to suffer that stench any longer than they must,” Genevieve said quietly.

“Don’t be daft,” he teased. “I’m sure we can go fishing in the morning, just the two of us. You can fish, can’t you?”

She pursed her lips and then rolled her eyes. “Do be reasonable, Your Grace.”

“I’m perfectly reasonable. I always am.”

At once her gaze turned to his hand before she sent him a pointed look.

“You are…” Then Genevieve paused and he noted the way she skirted her gaze to the housekeeper and then focused back on him.

“Quite the jester, it would seem. Should you wish to fish in the morning, I wouldn’t dream of stopping you. ”

“Thank you, my dear. I do appreciate the countless reminders of why you married me,” he added, daring to be a bit cheeky. Then he came up to take her hand on his arm. “Mrs. Waverly, do as my dear wife says. She does know all, as you might have suspected. Shall we in to supper?”

Genevieve started to nod but then paused. Her hand tightened on his arm. “Are you well, then?” Real concern sounded in her voice, albeit somewhat stilted. “How is your hand?”

Unable to help himself, Julian put his free hand over hers to sandwich her between him. “I’m going to live, which I’m sure is a great relief. But the great relief will surely be filling my empty belly. I can hardly wait to see what sort of meal you have helped prepare for us, my duchess.”

He tried to find the fine line between exaggeration and sobriety. Seeing the twitch on Genevieve’s lips left him hopeful.

“Then do let us go in,” she murmured.

And to supper the two of them went, pretending all was well.