“Stop here,” he ordered, and immediately he felt the coachman pull the four horses to a halt.
He alighted from the coach and went to meet his servants. James, on seeing him, exited the coach seat. He looked confusedly at the Duke who hadn’t uttered a word of explanation. Thomas looked around as if looking for something. James joined and Thomas laughed inwardly.
“Looking for something?” he asked his butler teasingly.
James bowed slightly, trying to avoid Thomas’ eyes and question.
“Will you continue to refuse my question?” Thomas asked, humor lifting his lips.
But James, ever the stiff one, didn’t notice his mirth. “Pardon me, Your Grace,” he quickly apologized bowing while that ridiculous hat he held brushed the ground.
Thomas chuckled. He didn’t know how many times he would have to tell James that there was no need for him to be so on edge in his presence. He was not like other nobles and, especially since becoming the Duke, Thomas had begun to see James as his friend.
James blinked bemusedly at Thomas’ laughter before his own lips twitched in response.
“How many years have you been with me, James?” Thomas asked, walking away from the coach.
“Ten years, Your Grace,” James responded.
“And in those years, what have you noticed?” he asked him. Thomas caught James’ look of confusion. “This is not a trick question, James.”
He sounded more authoritative; like a Duke, but he hadn’t meant to be controlling. It was one of the things he considered a flaw. No matter how much he tried to act like a commoner or want people of see him as such, his authoritative nature shone through. He kept walking away from the coach into the nearby woods and James pointed that out to him.
“The coach is too obvious,” Thomas explained. “We are here on a holiday, not official duty.”
James was still clearly unsure of Thomas’ intention so he just stood close to him quietly. His wariness was something Thomas didn’t think James would ever be rid of. He’d learned that, before becoming the butler of Comeford Manor, Thomas had worked as an errand boy to the King, then was handed over to the Prince Regent who later died in the wars. Afterwards, he’d served the rest of his days for the late Duke of Solorett — and now the current one — with all the formalities he’d developed working with royalty. No matter how many times Thomas told him it was not necessary, James was stuck in his ways.
“What shall I do with the coach, Your Grace?” James finally asked.
Thomas remained quiet. He delved deeper into the woods until he got to a large oak tree where he knew no one would be able to see them. He reached for the pommel of the sword he had slung at his side before pulling it from its sheath. Then, he held it out to James.
“Your Grace?” James was still, his eyes flickering with confusion.
“Fear not, my dear subject,” Thomas said with a smile. “Just hold this for me.”
He gave him the sword and asked how it felt. James seemed to be at a loss for words. He held the sword in his hand with all the care he would a newborn babe.
“This will be yours on one condition,” Thomas told him. Pleasure washed over him at the sight of his butler’s awe.
James lifted his head and stretched the sword back to him. “I am yours to command, even without the gift,” he told him.
“Yes, I know,” Thomas responded “but I would like to buy your secrecy and since you are my butler, you would be in charge of keeping my identity safe.”
James looked at his master blankly. He said nothing.
Thomas waited a few beats before he raised a brow, slightly amused. “James,” he called.
“Yes, Your Grace, I will be honored to do your bidding and more,” he finally replied, giving a low bow.
He stayed like that for a couple of seconds. Thomas huffed a laugh before handing him the embroidered sheath. He watched as James replaced the sword and straightened to full height, giving it back to him. Then, they made their way out of the forest. When they returned, Thomas noticed the coachman’s worried look but it dissolved on seeing them appear from the woods.
“Are you all right, Your Grace?” he asked, climbing down from where he sat. He glanced at the sword in Thomas’ hands, confusion lighting his eyes.
“Yes, I just love to see the woods,” Thomas told him, patting him on the shoulder as he brushed by. “I will need one of the horses.”
The coachman exchanged looks with the butler, as if affirming what the Duke said. Thomas didn’t bother to give any explanation. It was still bright outside and he wanted to make the most of it. Not to mention the fact that he didn’t make any form of announcement upon entering the county. The single horse was ready after a while and James, who clearly didn’t like the idea of him running off, walked up to him.
“Are you sure this is a good idea, Your Grace? You may fall prey to bandits and soothsayers if you dare to go alone,” he elucidated.
“Don’t worry, James. Be sure to meet me at Creakys,” he told them.
“But… but—” Neither James nor the coachman could find the words. Thomas took advantage of their inability by trotting off.
Creakys was the alias given to one of his father’s home in the countryside. It was an odd place, a simple two-story house that was not befitting the status of a Duke. But the story behind Creakys becoming one of the properties owned by the Solorett Dukedom was something Thomas had always enjoyed. His great-grandfather, the Second Duke of Solorett, had run away from his responsibilities, leaving it in the hands of his brother. He’d sequestered himself away in the countryside, in the small house called Creakys, because he knew no one would be able to find him there. Later however, his story developed into a tale of romance when he’d met the woman he would later call his wife.
Thomas had never really care for the romance within the story but had always enjoyed how defiant and carefree his great-grandfather had been. Something Thomas secretly wished he could be, as well.
Get away from the duties and responsibilities. Take a break.
He could hear his mother’s voice resound in his ears. Thomas doubted his mother expected him to stay in a different abode for his holidays.
When he drew closer to the house in the small town, he put a veil over his head to cover his face and rode quickly past the people. He didn’t stop until he made it through to the other end of the town where there stood a two-story house with a low fence.
He pulled the veil off his face. The smell of dust mixed with the smell of lavender planted decoratively around the house. He didn’t enter immediately. Instead, he stayed outside to take in all the changes that had occurred around the building since the last time he was there.
The house looked more dilapidated than he remembered, resembling a small fort that was in desperate need of repair. The fence surrounding it was just as old, with no touch of improvement visible on it.
Home sweet home—
As he climbed down from his horse, he could hear the sound of his coach heading to the house. He stood there until they were in sight.
“That was far slower than I had expected,” Thomas commented, looking at the coachman in surprise.
“Pardon me, Your Grace,” James apologized climbing down to meet him without waiting for the horse to be stopped fully. “We went to the market to get some of the stuffs we will be needing.”
Thomas nodded his approval and motioned toward the house. James rushed quickly past him with a bunch of large keys clanking in his hands. He got to the dusty and partly rusted door just in time to open it for Thomas. As Thomas entered, he held his breath for a couple of minutes then stepped outside.
“What is that horrid smell?” he finally exclaimed, covering his nostrils.
James was already hurrying over to the windows to open them.
Thomas took a few steps back to the door, watching dust motes drift in the air around him. “Perhaps this was not as good an idea as I first thought, James,” he murmured.
James didn’t respond as he opened doorways flooding the adjoining rooms with light. When he returned, he looked very dusty, as if he worked in a coal mine. He had cobwebs in his hair but he didn’t seem to notice. He walked closer to Thomas but then, as if he noticed his state, stopped a few feet away.
Thomas pulled out his handkerchief, embroidered with his family’s crest. He approached James, putting it in his hand. James bowed his head gratefully.
“I would suggest we use the servant’s entrance at the back,” he said, the handkerchief still clutched tightly in his fist.
“Off we go,” Thomas uttered.
The coachman carried two pieces of luggage in his hands as they all walked round the house to access the maid’s entrance. It had been covered partly with shrubs due to lack of use. Thomas hacked away at it with his sword. Luckily for them, there was no unbearable smell back there. It seemed whatever had been causing it laid closer to the front entrance. Thomas was blissfully free from that smell, though dust plagued him, as he made his way to the room he would be staying in.
He looked around and was pleased to see that his room was just as he had left it; well arranged. The only change he could see was on the large mirror by the wall. It had been covered in thick dust that made it impossible to get a reflection from it.
“You will have your time, I promise, you will,” he addressed the mirror as if it could hear.
The last place he gazed at was his bed, but without caring to clean it, he sat on it then laid back slowly. It wasn’t until that moment that he felt his body ache. Even though he was quite the adventurous person, his body felt sore after the day-long journey. Now that he’d finally gotten time to rest, exhaustion overcame him and sleep drifted in from the distance. The knock on his door kept it at bay.
At first, it was so gentle Thomas almost thought he’d imagined it But the second round of the knocks was louder and clear.
“James?” he inquired.
“Yes, Your Grace,” came the response.
“Proceed.”
James walked in with a tray of fruit in his hands, coming to stop by the bed.
“Lay it by my side,” Thomas told him without even looking at him.
James bowed and just as he got to the door, Thomas called back out to him. He saw the way his butler’s lips thinned when he turned, saw how Thomas’ expression had already put the other man on edge. He couldn’t help himself. An idea was already forming in his mind.
“What is it, Your Grace?” James asked.
“You can take some time off as I will go into the town,” he pressed his eyes on him as if to push him, “alone.”
“But… but, won’t that be dangerous, Your Grace?” James asked.
“I do not see how,” Thomas said simply. “You saw the town, did you not? It appeared quite harmless.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry, James. Mother asked me to go on holiday. To relax. That is exactly what I plan on doing.”
James bowed his head. Thomas got the distinct impression he wanted to sigh. “Very well, Your Grace,” he said before he turned to leave.
Thomas watched him go, then turned his head back to the ceiling. Just as he did this, he saw something he hadn’t noticed since he entered. His heart started beating very fast and he clenched on to his sword, as he rose to his feet.
What in the name of the King is that?
Chapter 3
"Here you are, Mary Ann," Sam, the tavern owner declared excitedly as soon as he saw her. Mary Ann gave him a little smile even though she wasn't quite feeling up to smiling right now. She had a lot on her mind — but then, she always did. The fact that she was also hungry didn't make things any better.
Mary Ann’s journey here wasn’t an easy one. She had walked halfway through town just so she could find another alternative to relieve her exhaustion. Sam's tavern was her only option now, and she knew it.
Several pairs of eyes trailed her as she limped toward Sam at the center of the bar but Mary Ann wasn't in the least bothered by it. She had been living on the streets all her life so she was quite used to having men of all sizes and status ogle her. The fact that she was quite curvy and fair meant that she always got her own fair share of male's attention. It was one of the banes of her existence but it surely wasn't the worst of it.
"It sure is good to see you again," Sam said to her, grinning from ear to ear.
Mary Ann smiled again and this time, the smile came from a good place. Sam was a short and bubbly middle-aged man who was at least twice her age. His bald head and potbellied stomach gave him a funny look and while he really could play the part of a clown, he could also be ruthless when it was needed. Sam was the only person that came close to being a friend to Mary Ann and she was incredibly grateful for him.
"Sam!" Mary Ann said cheerfully, putting her worries behind her as she teased Sam, "Your belly doesn't seem to have reduced, has it? You really should visit the physician at this point. Who knows? There might be a couple of babies in there."
In his usual cheerful manner, Sam threw his head backward and began to laugh in that throaty manner that only Sam used perfectly.
"And you haven't snagged a young man yourself. Are the men of this town blind or what? A fair thing like you shouldn't be single for so long," Sam replied.
Mary Ann rolled her eyes dramatically. "I think you are describing another person entirely. If I were really as fair as you describe, some Knight in shining armor would be on his knees right now."
"You really doubt your beauty, don't you?" Sam asked, shaking his head in that manner that suggested that she was only a child who didn't know anything about the way of the world. "Did you not see several heads turning when you entered this tavern? That should be enough to let you know that you are one of the fairest in this town."
Mary Ann smiled even broader this time and she felt a lot lighter than she had before she entered the tavern. This was one the reasons Sam was the only person that she was close to in the town. He knew just the right words to say and his funny demeanor usually got her laughing within a short time of being with him.
"Sam!" a gruff voice yelled loudly even though the tavern wasn't exactly noisy. "I need me a pint of beer. The usual."
"I'm bringing it right along," Sam said and he quickly moved to work, pouring the beer into a mug.
"Let me help you with that," Mary Ann said before Sam even started to take the beer to the man who had ordered it.
"No, Mary A—" Sam started before he was interrupted by her.
"Don't fight it. You already know I won't back down so there's no need protesting over this," she said and before he could come up with another protest, Mary Ann quickly took the mug from him.
She set the mug right in front of the man who had ordered it and she was just turning back toward Sam when the man said something that made her stop short.
"Why don't you follow me when I'm done here," the man had said. "I can clean you up nicely and I will even give you some money to get a good pair of boots. I promise, I won't mind your crippled legs."
The blood rushed to Mary Ann's head as the words rang in her brain. This was not the first time that an obnoxious man would disrespect her like this. In fact, being a woman in an environment like this made it commonplace. She was used to ignoring it, but for some reason, this man’s words cut straight through her good mood.
Mary Ann turned to face the man. Anger shot through her in waves and she could tell her face showed it. Her skin grew hot with the force of it, her body trembling as she leaned closer to the man, glaring into his eyes. He swallowed.
"I dare you to repeat what you just said to me," Mary Ann murmured. The man only shook his head, then averted his face. Even though she hadn’t spoken loudly, she knew others were watching. Silence descended over the tavern.
"I thought as much," she said. She ran her eyes down the length of him, feeling dark satisfaction at how pale he’d become. “If you don’t have the strength repeat yourself, then you shouldn’t
have looked at me in the first place.”
The man swallowed, gripping his mug so tightly his knuckles went white.
Suddenly, Sam appeared next to her. "Nathaniel!" Sam called to the man who insulted Mary Ann, his arms akimbo. Sam had a deep frown on his face and it was obvious that he was really upset. "Apologize to Mary Ann here for your insolence or I will be forced to send you out of my tavern."
Nathaniel looked up, locked eyes with Mary Ann, and quickly averted his face again. He muttered something under his breath that was supposed to be an apology.
"Nathaniel," Sam growled, "I'm not sure what that's supposed to be but if that's an apology, then you have got to speak out loud. You must make your apology just as loud as your disrespect."
A Fiery Duchess for the Dashing Duke: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 2
