William laughed. “There’s nothing to be apologizing for. Here, let me show you.” He walked over and took the trowel from the man’s hand, bent over, and pressed the tool into the carefully turned dirt. “If you lay this down here like this, when you lift it, you’ll have a perfect line every time.”
The man stared at him. “You’re a genius,” he said. “Truly, I’m a fool.”
William smiled. Granted the man was being kind, but he was being overly solicitous as far as William was concerned. “Pass me the seeds,” he said.
The man nodded and poured a few seeds into his hand. William took the trowel, made his line, and then used the handle to measure the distance for the holes. In each hole, he placed a few seeds and then covered them with the dirt. After finishing the remainder of the row, he stood and wiped his brow.
“You see? A perfect line.”
The man swallowed and forced a smile. “Most definitely, Your Grace. I shall tell my children of your expertise.”
William chuckled. This made the man wring his hands. “Tell your children that their father is a master gardener and that the Duke’s pleased with his work.”
The man nodded, the anxiety gone, at least on the outside, for which William was glad. He did not want to upset the people who worked for him or make them feel less than they were, for he had lived that life for much too long. People tended to work better when they received praise than when they were chastised, even if they were doing the work they loved. Had he not learned that with Lord Garvey and his endless complaints? If it had not been for Lady Garvey, William was unsure if he would have learned as much as he had.
Bidding the man farewell, William headed back to the house. There was still so much more exploring to do, and he was unsure where to go next. Then he recalled seeing stables just around the corner when he first arrived at Silver Birch Estates. He had no idea if there was a side gate that would lead there, so he decided to find it from where he had seen it—from the driveway.
With excitement, he hurried through the house and out the front door only to stop dead in his tracks. Before him stood the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Blond hair peeked out from beneath a large bonnet in tiny curls, and her light-blue dress matched her eyes. For a moment he wondered if he were dreaming, for even Miss Garvey paled in comparison. He wished to speak but struggled to find any words behind the pounding in his head. When she smiled at him, her eyes sparkled, and he thought he might collapse where he stood.
From behind her came another woman, and although she had red hair rather than blond, she resembled the first woman but only a few years older.
“I was just going to the stables,” he muttered, only to berate himself as soon as the words left his lips.
The redheaded woman smiled at him and then she began to speak.
Chapter Four
The carriage moved along at a steady pace, and Marianne worked tension from her neck she knew stemmed from her concerns of what lay ahead. Although she did not believe that her parents would force her to marry this man, this new Duke of Stromhedge, nor would she be held captive, both about which Julia had teased her, but she could not deny that she was curious about the man himself. The former Duke who had died had been quite old, and she suspected his grandson had to be nearly forty years of age at least. Why a man of so many years had not already married she did not know, but it was not for her to judge.
“Remember, this is for your father, and we must make him proud,” her mother said, breaking Marianne from her thoughts.
“Yes, Mother, I am well aware of the importance of the outcome of this arrangement,” Marianne replied, although her expectations were somewhat different than that of her parents, she was certain. While they simply wanted the new properties for the businesses, she hoped she could earn her father’s trust and allow her to use one of those properties herself. What better way to show her abilities to run a shop than to help her father acquire said shop?
Her mother smiled and placed a hand upon hers. “You are a good woman,” she said, “and you always make me proud. Although I do wish you would find a suitor. Perhaps you can give Mr. Sharp another chance?”
Marianne held in a sigh. “I will think on it,” she said. “I promise.”
A few moments later, the carriage turned down a long, stately drive with tall trees lining both sides. The lane curved and brought into view a house, grander than any she had ever seen in her life. Made of red brick, it had large windows that lined the front and touted at least ten double chimneys. Ten! And those were the ones she could see from the front of the house, which meant that there were more beyond her view.
A large pond was located at the front of the house and sculpted trees sat in various places on a lush lawn. Rather than wind around in front of the house, the drive worked its way beside the house to a squared courtyard. Around the roofline were etched designs that reminded Marianne of flowers. She could never imagine living in such a place after what she considered a large home her parents had purchased before she was born. However, that house was more a cottage in comparison to the extravagance of Silver Birch Estates. No, not a cottage! A flat! She could not wait to see what the inside was like.
She had to admit, however, that it was not only the house that held her curiosity; it was also the man she and her mother would be helping. What she learned during her time with this new Duke could be applied later with whomever she married, for she had come to understand that few men came into a marriage prepared. According to her mother, her father had required extensive training to get him to be the man he was today. Then again, her mother could have been teasing as she explained this. Sometimes Marianne was not certain what to consider as truth when her mother spoke to her and what was said in fun, such was their relationship.
The carriage came to a stop and a liveried footman rushed out to open the carriage door. Marianne followed her mother, taking care on the small step the footman had placed in front of the door, and looked up, craning her neck as she stared in awe at the facade before her. How would they ever find their way around such a grandiose place?
“I must see to the luggage,” her mother said as she went around to the back of the carriage. She said something more, but Marianne did not hear, for her full attention was on the arched entryway at the top of a set of six stairs that led to the doors to what appeared the main entrance.
She walked up to the top of the stairs and stared at the heavy wooden doors and the knockers attached to them. Made of bronze, each was shaped into the head of a lion with a matching bronze ring hanging from its mouth.
“Marianne!” her mother hissed from the carriage. “I asked you to wait for me!”
“I did not hear you,” Marianne replied. “But I am already here; I cannot simply turn around and walk away.”
“Yes, you can. No one has come to the door just yet, and how do you think it will look if His Grace comes to the door to find just you, a young unwed woman, standing on his stoop?”
Before Marianne could respond, the door opened, and a man who appeared to be around her own age stood there, his mouth gaping open. Marianne’s mouth went immediately dry when she took in his dark, wavy hair and wide smile. How she wished he could be the Duke, but she considered that it could not be so, for this man was only in his shirtsleeves, which were rolled up to the elbows, and his trousers were dirtied at the knees. He even had dirt on his forehead. However, despite all that, she could not pull her eyes away from the muscled chest that she could see defined beneath the shirt. He also had the deepest blue eyes she had ever seen in her life, and she considered that she could become lost in them if she allowed herself to do so.
“I was just going to the stables,” the man said, pointing past them, his voice quaking. “I’m sorry to startle you, Miss.”
Ah, a stablehand, thought Marianne. A pity that. Her father would never allow her to marry a stablehand, that much she was certain.
“It is fine,” her mother said from behind her. “Now, hurry alo
ng and tell Mr. Ludlow that Mrs. Catherine Blithe and her daughter Marianne are here to see him.”
Marianne could not stop staring at the man. She knew propriety should be first and foremost, and women of the Gentry should not stare at servants. Yet, for some odd reason, she could not stop herself from admiring his muscled arms and the way he wore his trousers, even in their current state.
“Yes, Madam,” the man said hurriedly. “Of course.” And then he rushed away.
Marianne swallowed as she watched him turn, and then silently berated herself. What was she, some sort of hussy to stare at a man in such a manner?
“You see what happens when a firm household is not run properly?” her mother asked. “Servants coming and going as they please, and through the main door rather than through the servants’ door.” She clicked her tongue. “It is a good thing we have arrived when we have. However, I am certain we will have everything back to working order in no time.”
“Yes, Mother,” Marianne replied. Although she believed servants should be treated with kindness, she did agree that the class system had to always be enforced. Perhaps it was not fair, but it was dictated by societal standards, and Marianne was a firm believer in them. Granted, she was not of the aristocracy, as the Duke himself would be, but then no member of the ton would ever have asked a member of the ton to tutor a young man, even if he had no previous training beforehand. That would simply never happen.
Footsteps could be heard echoing beyond the partially open door, and her mother whispered, “Please, let us not embarrass ourselves.”
Marianne could not help but smile. Her mother always worried, but that was also an aspect that came with their place in society. A member of the Gentry constantly worried about how he or she appeared to a member of the ton. It was to be expected even if there was no call for it. Marianne’s mother was as cultured and refined as any woman of the aristocracy.
Marianne returned her attention to the door, and a man with silver hair, who she assumed was Mr. Ludlow, smiled at them.
Behind him stood the stablehand, a proud, wide grin on his face. “I went and found him, Madam, Miss. Should I do anything else?”
Her mother sniffed disdainfully. “No, carry on to the stables.”
The man nodded, gave Marianne another smile that made her feel like she would melt like a pat of butter left in the sun, and then began to walk away.
“Now, Mr. Ludlow, thank you again…” her mother began before the man held up a hand to stop her.
“One moment, please,” he said as he stepped just past them. “Your Grace, if you have time, I believe introductions are in order.”
Marianne’s jaw dropped as realization hit her so hard she thought she might have fallen over. Her mother gaped as much, and all color had left her face.
“Your Grace,” Mr. Ludlow said in his prim voice, “may I introduce Mrs. Catherine Blithe and her daughter Miss Marianne Blithe. These ladies are to be your instructors.”
The man gave them an awkward bow. “Ladies, I’m glad to meet you.”
Marianne found her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. This man was the Duke? How could it be possible? With his rough clothing, even if they fit him nicely, one could only take him for a servant. She understood that he had been brought up outside of the care of the former Duke, but this was beyond what she had considered.
A sharp elbow to her side brought her attention back to the conversation.
“Your Grace,” her mother said with a deep curtsy she reserved for only those of the highest titles, “my deepest apologies for my manners toward you. I had no idea, and Marianna and I beg your forgiveness.”
Marianna hoped her mother had not ruined everything for them with her sharp tongue, for it would break her father’s heart if he lost out on what was to be gained in this arrangement.
“It was just a mistake,” the man—no! The Duke!—said. “I’m not one to hold a grudge.” He wore the kindest smile Mariana had ever seen, and once again, she found herself feeling weak in his presence.
You cannot go acting all willy-nilly now of all times, Marianne thought to herself. You have business to conduct, and if you are to prove to your father that you are capable of running a business, you cannot allow someone as handsome as this man to make you lose sight of that.
“Mr. Ludlow, I am sorry,” her mother said in earnest. “I did not know.”
The man chuckled. “It is nothing to worry about. It only shows how much your help is needed. I do have one request, however.”
“And what is that?” her mother asked.
“Interact with His Grace, and by the end of the evening, let me know how long you believe it will take to prepare him for his introduction to society.”
“Of course,” her mother replied, though her face held a skeptical look.
Marianne could not agree with her mother more. She never looked down on anyone, or hoped she did not, but they certainly had much work to do before he would be ready to make his debut.
“Again, our apologies,” her mother said.
“Nothing to apologize for. Now, let us go and spend some time with him.”
With Mr. Ludlow leading the way, they followed him through the door and into the house.
As her mother walked past her, Marianne leaned over and whispered, “What was it you said about not embarrassing you?” She could not stop from giving her mother a mischievous smile as she said it.
***
The drawing room was twice the size of their own, and Marianne was amazed at the artwork, fine furnishings, and even the fine china tea set that a maid served them. Granted, she had many nice things; however, this was by far much grander than she had ever experienced before.
“Your house is beautiful, Your Grace,” her mother said. “Marianne and I are honored to be your guests and thankful you opened up your home to us.”
“Thank you,” the Duke replied as he looked around the room with as much amazement as Marianne did. “I like it, too. You know it has a ballroom? Even my bedroom has a balcony.” The man wore a grin that covered his entire face. “Oh, my name is William, by the way. You can call me that.”
“Your offer is kind,” her mother said, “but I believe it would be best if I address you with the title you deserve. If you will allow us to do so, of course.”
“If that’s what you want,” came his reply. Marianne did not miss the disappointment in the man’s voice. He picked up one of the teacups and held it in the air. “The teacups are expensive. If you break one, though, it’s fine. I won’t be angry. I can buy new ones if I have to replace any.” Then he took a drink of his tea, the tiny cup all but disappearing as his hand wrapped around it. A slurp resonated around the room, and Marianne wondered if her mother would fall over in a dead faint.
Then to make matters worse, the Duke set the teacup back down directly on the table and then persisted in scratching his chest with a wide yawn and then digging a finger in his ear. This man was so far from societal mannerisms, Marianne considered that it might not be possible to bring him to a level that would be necessary for him to gain to be ready for an introduction into society.
Her mother, however, acted as if what he had done had not appalled her, which only surprised Marianne that much more. “Thank you, Your grace. Marianne and I will be careful not to break one.”
“The last place I worked was for a Baron. He was nice enough, all right, but he was grumpy. We learned fast that it’s best to stay out of his way when he was in one of his moods. Thomas, that’s my friend, he’d often take naps on the job, and the Baron would yell so loud, his stomach would rise up and down.” He stood and extended his belly to emphasize his point. Words tumbled from the man’s mouth faster than water fell from a waterfall, and he changed subjects so often that Marianne had a difficult time keeping up.
He did not even wait for her or her mother to respond in any way to anything he said, and Marianne was not certain if she should laugh or gape, so rather than embarrass herself and her m
other, she decided to smile and nod her head. She did, however, find him quite humorous at times, and she had to stifle a giggle. Her mother would more than likely not appreciate such a reaction at this point, or at any point for that matter.
“Can I ask you a question?” the man asked as he stared at Marianne. “Do you like to read?”
Her mouth went dry again. Perhaps it was the suddenness of his question that had her feeling unsettled. “Yes, Your Grace,” she replied with a thick tongue. “I enjoy books containing poetry and even read a bit of history. Do you enjoy reading, as well?”
“Oh, yes. I learned to read a few years ago.” He leaned forward, reminding Marianne of a young child. “Did you know there are animals in Africa that are not here in England? Like elephants! I read they are bigger than some houses!” Marianne went to respond, but he continued speaking. “There are all sorts of animals and plants. I’m a gardener by trade, you see, but Mr. Ludlow here said I won’t need to do that anymore.” Then, as suddenly as it started, he stopped and lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to talk so much.”
Marianne smiled. “You are fine,” she said. “Please, continue.”
Her mother nodded in agreement, and for a short time, the man spoke of the books he had read and those he wished to read. Through it all, Marianne saw a simple man who enjoyed the simplest things in life. He was a Duke and his fortune was great, and yet he wished to speak of elephants and tribesmen rather than fox hunting or gambling. She found she enjoyed listening to him, once she was able to recognize when he would be changing topics, which happened often and in sudden succession.
“Do you want to see my garden?” he asked as he stood.
Both Marianne and her mother stood, her mother spilling her tea in the process.
“Don’t worry, one of the maids will clean it up,” he said.
“Um, thank you,” her mother replied. “And yes, we would be honored to see your gardens.”
“Good!” he said as he made his way toward the door. “And if you get hungry, let me know. I can ask Mrs. Templeton to have anything you want brought to you at any time. We even have lamb here!” He hurried out the door, and Marianne stifled another giggle.
Return of the Duke Page 4
