Page 34 of The Spinster and Her Rakish Duke (The Athena Society #3)
“ I still cannot fathom why the Viscount insisted on accompanying us,” Ewan muttered as their carriage rolled down the winding country lane toward the village of Valemont.
“The last time Percy showed interest in tenant matters, he attempted to stage a pastoral drama with the shepherd’s flock as supporting players. ”
Samantha bit back a smile, recalling the tale the Marquess of Tenwick had regaled them with over dinner the previous evening. “The sheep were uncooperative, as I understand it.”
“Tragically so,” Ewan agreed, his expression caught between exasperation and fondness. “Though Percy insisted they simply lacked proper motivation.”
“Perhaps today he might find a more receptive audience among the village children,” Samantha suggested, glancing at the passing scenery—rolling fields giving way to the first scattered cottages of Valemont village. “They, at least, might appreciate his theatrical inclinations.”
“God help us all if he decides to enlist them in one of his productions.” Despite his words, there was no real censure in Ewan’s tone, only the bemused affection that increasingly colored his interactions with his nephew.
The carriage slowed as they entered the village proper, its single cobblestone street lined with neat cottages, the small church spire visible in the distance. Several villagers paused in their daily tasks to watch the ducal carriage pass, offering respectful nods or curtsies as it rolled by.
“I’ve arranged for us to meet with Mr. Finchley at the cottage,” Ewan said, referencing the estate steward who had been overseeing the initial assessment of the building they planned to convert into a school.
“He should have gathered the information you requested about the structural repairs needed.”
Samantha nodded, a flutter of excitement building in her chest. This project had consumed her thoughts since Ewan had first suggested it, filling her notebooks with lists and plans and sketches.
It represented something beyond mere charity—a chance to make a meaningful difference in the lives of the tenant families who depended on Valemont.
“And Percy?” she asked, realizing their nephew had ridden ahead on horseback rather than joining them in the carriage.
“Presumably making some grand entrance to announce our arrival,” Ewan replied dryly. “Though I specifically instructed him to meet us directly at the cottage.”
As if summoned by their conversation, the carriage rounded a bend to reveal Percy astride his horse in the village square, surrounded by a small crowd of wide-eyed children. He was gesturing animatedly, his voice carrying clearly through the morning air.
“—and then the great dragon unfurled wings as vast as the sky itself!” he proclaimed, spreading his arms wide to demonstrate.
The children gasped appropriately, their faces upturned in rapt attention.
“Fire poured from its nostrils like the very breath of creation, scorching the mountaintop until the stones glowed red as embers!”
“So much for restraint,” Ewan murmured, though Samantha detected a hint of amusement beneath his resignation.
As their carriage drew to a halt, Percy caught sight of them and broke off his narrative with a theatrical bow toward his audience. “But alas, young friends, the tale must pause here, for duty calls! The duke and duchess have arrived to transform your humble village with the light of knowledge!”
The children turned as one to stare at the carriage, their expressions shifting from disappointment at the interrupted story to curiosity about the noble visitors.
“A trifle melodramatic, perhaps,” Samantha observed quietly as a footman opened the carriage door, “but he certainly has their attention.”
Ewan offered his hand to assist her down, his touch lingering perhaps a moment longer than propriety dictated. “Percy has never struggled to command attention,” he replied. “Directing it productively is the greater challenge.”
The moment her slippered feet touched the packed earth of the village square, Samantha felt the weight of dozens of gazes upon her.
Not merely the children who had been enraptured by Percy’s storytelling, but villagers who had emerged from shops and cottages to observe the unusual sight of the Duke and Duchess of Valemont paying a personal visit to their humble community.
She straightened her spine, smoothing the skirts of her walking dress—a practical garment of forest green wool that she had specifically chosen for this outing. The role of duchess still felt new in many ways, but today’s task was one she embraced wholeheartedly.
“Your Graces,” Percy called, already striding toward them. “These delightful children have provided invaluable insights into the educational needs of the community.”
Samantha exchanged a glance with Ewan, noting the skeptical arch of his brow. “Is that so?”
“Absolutely!” Percy turned to gesture toward the assembled children, who had crept closer, curiosity overcoming their shyness.
“William here has a remarkable aptitude for mathematics despite never having formal instruction. And Heather possesses a vocabulary that would put many London debutantes to shame.”
The two children he indicated—a freckled boy of perhaps eight and a solemn-faced girl a year or two older—shuffled their feet under the sudden attention, though both stood a bit straighter at Percy’s praise.
“How… observant of you,” Ewan said, surprise evident in his tone.
Something warm unfurled in Samantha’s chest as she watched Percy’s genuine enthusiasm for the children and their potential. For all his dramatic tendencies and social missteps, there was an earnestness to his interest that could not be feigned.
“Well then,” she said, stepping forward to address the gathering, “since Lord Stonehall has made such excellent introductions, perhaps you children might help us with our task today.”
This direct address caused a ripple of excitement among the young ones, while the adults watching from doorways and garden gates exchanged curious glances.
“We’ve come to examine the old cottage by the millpond,” she continued, “which His Grace intends to restore as a school for the village children.”
A murmur of surprise and interest swept through the gathered crowd.
“A school?” The question came from a weathered man who stepped forward, cap in hand. “Here in Valemont, Your Grace?”
“Indeed, Mr.…?” Samantha inquired politely.
“Tanner, Your Grace. Thomas Tanner. I’m the blacksmith.” He made a somewhat awkward bow. “Begging your pardon, but we never expected such consideration.”
“Every child deserves the opportunity to learn,” Samantha replied firmly. “And it benefits the estate to have tenants who can read contracts, calculate yields, and manage their affairs with understanding.”
“Very practical of you, Duchess,” Ewan remarked beside her, the warmth in his voice belying the formality of his address.
She caught his eye, reading the approval there, and felt a flutter of pleasure at his support.
Their marriage might have begun as a matter of necessity…
born from scandal… but in moments like these, she felt the growing foundation of something far more profound: a partnership built on shared values and mutual respect.
“Now then,” she addressed the children once more, “who would like to show us the way to the old cottage?”
Every small hand shot into the air, accompanied by eager voices clamoring to be chosen. Samantha laughed, the sound bright in the morning air.
“Perhaps our young mathematics prodigy and our vocabulary enthusiast might lead the way,” she suggested, nodding to the two children Percy had singled out.
The children presented themselves with a mix of caution and eagerness. “This way, Your Graces,” she said with careful enunciation that spoke of a child determined to live up to Percy’s praise.
As they set off, the rest of the children fell in behind them like a small, chattering honor guard, with Percy immediately resuming his interrupted tale of dragons and heroes to their delight.
Samantha found herself walking beside Ewan, their hands occasionally brushing as they navigated the narrow lane leading toward the millpond.
“You’ve quite won them over,” he observed quietly, nodding toward the villagers who watched their procession with expressions ranging from curiosity to cautious hope.
“I’ve done nothing yet,” she demurred, echoing his words from their conversation in the garden.
His fingers caught hers briefly, a touch hidden from view by the folds of her skirts. “You’ve shown them you see them,” he replied, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “Never underestimate the power of that, my tigress.”
The warmth that spread through her at his words had nothing to do with the bright spring sunshine and everything to do with the man walking beside her—the man who, against all expectations, had become not merely her husband but her most steadfast ally.
The cottage, when they reached it, proved both better and worse than Samantha had anticipated.
Situated on a slight rise overlooking the millpond, it offered a picturesque setting with ample natural light—a crucial consideration for a schoolroom.
However, the structure itself had clearly suffered from years of neglect.
“The roof will need to be entirely replaced,” Mr. Finchley, the estate steward, explained as they toured the interior.
He was a tall, thin man with the perpetually harried expression of someone with too many responsibilities.
“And there’s considerable damage to the eastern wall where water has seeped in. ”
Samantha nodded, making notes in the small leather-bound journal she had brought for this purpose. “What of the foundation?”
“Sound enough, Your Grace. Built on good stone, this was.” Mr. Finchley tapped his foot on the plank flooring. “Though the floorboards have seen better days.”