He studied the other two portraits. Although William loved his father and still missed him, it was not he who William wanted to aspire to be like but rather the old man with gray hair in the painting that hung beside that of his father. It was not that his father did not have traits William admired, for the man had many. He remembered a kind, caring man who had done his best in raising William alone. When he had died, the grief that overtook William was short-lived, for he had no time for grief during his short stint in the orphanage before having to fend for himself in a world that cared not that he was alone.
However, he was alone no longer, for he had his Marianne. He could not wait to see her the following day. How he wished he could call on her more often, but with his pressing business matters, he had not been able to do so. A host of reasons came to mind as to why he wished to see her, but it was the peace she provided that he craved the most. They had made a vow to be friends in the beginning, and when he asked to court her, she did not hesitate in her response. His feelings for her were great, so great, in fact, that he dared to call it love.
Love was an emotion he had never experienced before, not that beyond a son would have for his mother or father. However, each time he was in her presence, the feeling grew. One day, he was certain he would ask for her hand, for there was no other woman he wished to spend his life with. He regretted the way he had spoken to her at the dinner party, and she was kind to forgive him. Yet, it still did not sit well with him how he had treated her.
Then there was Lord Hatcher. The man had left full of sorrow as well as a measure of fear, both overshadowed by something else William had not recognized until later. Shame. Shame to have been ordered out of William’s house in such a hostile and degrading way.
“Your portrait was well done, Your Grace,” Mr. Ludlow said from behind him. “Are you happy with it?”
“It does look like me,” William replied without further comment. Mr. Ludlow would never understand his thoughts concerning what was missing from the painting. “However, I will never sit that long again. The sessions tried my patience.”
“As have many things as of late,” Mr. Ludlow said cautiously.
William felt the tension in his jaw return. Mr. Ludlow had been his friend, but for some reason, the man had been gnawing on William’s nerves. “What does that mean?” he asked, trying to keep his temper from flaring and not doing a very good job of it.
“You are tired, Sir, and rightly so. Your nights are late, and if I may say so, the drink has become your new companion.”
William looked down at the empty glass in his hand. What the old adviser said was true, but he had no right to speak to a Duke in that manner. “It is my right to have a drink when I want it,” he said defensively.
“That is correct, Your Grace,” Mr. Ludlow replied. He turned his attention back to the trio of portraits. “Three Dukes, each one as different than the other.”
“That much is obvious,” William snapped.
“Oh, forgive me, Your Grace,” Mr. Ludlow said with a smile. “What I meant was I have seen all three of you at your best and worst times. Each one difference in his approach to matters.”
William was sick of the riddles. “Speak plainly, man.”
Mr. Ludlow shrugged. “I just mean to say that you should be the Duke you are and nothing more.”
William took a sip of his drink and then asked, “You do not like her, do you?”
“The Dowager Duchess?” When William nodded, he said, “It does not matter who I like or dislike, Your Grace. What matters is what you want.”
The anger that William had attempted to temper rose. “Do you think I should not seek her counsel?”
“I can only advise you in what you ask.”
William sighed. “Advise me now, Mr. Ludlow. Should I continue allowing the Dowager Duchess to help guide me? She sleeps in the guest quarters tonight. Shall I throw her out?”
The man sighed heavily. “The Dowager Duchess seeks only to grow her own wealth,” he said with great reluctance. “Do not throw her out into the streets but take her advice with caution.”
William went to ask another question, but a voice had them both turn to the door of the ballroom.
“Oh, have I interrupted?” Sofia asked, her voice echoing in the great room.
“No,” William replied as he stared at Mr. Ludlow. “He was just leaving.”
The man bowed and then walked away as Sofia joined William.
“You look worried,” she said. “Tell me, my friend, how might I help to take away your suffering?”
“I am fine,” he said with a sigh. “It is the pressure of the week bothering me, is all.” That pressure weighed down on him heavier than a suit of armor.
“I feel as if I know you all too well,” she said with a small smile playing on her lips. “I can see you are not telling the truth. However, alas, you are a man, and I would expect nothing more.”
He chuckled at her words, making her smile grow, and she slipped her arm in his. At first, he tensed at her closeness.
She laughed. “I was going to ask you to walk with me outside to get fresh air, but you pull away from me as if my touch makes you ill.”
“No,” he said with a laugh. “It is because I care for Marianne, and the thought of a woman…it is a silly notion, forget I mentioned it. Let us go outside as you suggested.”
“I must say it has made me happy,” she said as they walked toward a side door. “The idea that an old woman such as myself would try to win you over in a romantic way.”
“You must stop calling yourself that,” William said. His legs grew heavy under him and he swayed when the stopped beside the railing. He really needed to hold off on the drink. “You are not old. In fact, you look quite young.”
“Oh, William,” she sighed as she laid her head on his arm. “You are much too kind to me. How will I ever repay you?”
“No payment is needed,” he said as he stared across the gardens.
“Oh, my dear, payment is always required.”
***
William had made plans with Sofia to ride into the village and discuss the types of businesses they would bring in once the new buildings were erected. Sofia, however, insisted that they take separate carriages so she could return to her home once they had finished discussing business.
As they strolled down the main street, William could not help but walk with his head held high as the people smiled around him. He would never tire of their response to him simply being in their presence. However, as they passed more people, he realized that, although many nods came his way, many more glanced at the Dowager Duchess, a fact that bothered him no matter how hard he tried to fight it.
“You seem to be gaining the favor of the people with each step you take,” William said. “All eyes are upon you.”
The Dowager Duchess laughed. “You do not see what they see,” she said. What she said troubled him, for he did not understand the meaning of her words. It was as though the woman could hear his thoughts when she added, “You are a Duke.”
“Yes, I know that,” he said with irritation.
“And I am a Duchess,” she replied, and he stopped walking. “What is wrong?”
“I do not have time for games, Sofia,” he said in a harsh whisper. “What are you trying to tell me?” What he had expected was a quick apology, for that was what he typically received when he became angry these days.
However, she did not apologize. “Do you not see? They are amazed that a Duke and a Duchess walk the street together. It has not been seen here in many years. They are in awe of me, but more especially now that I walk beside a Duke. It is their wish to see such things in their life once again, and you, my friend, have granted them that wish.”
William thought on her words and then smiled. Perhaps it was his imagination, but the people did seem to be smiling wider than usual. They seemed happier, laughed more, and most nodded their way with approval. “You are right,” he said finally. “I have been
so caught up in my own anger that I did not notice.” He shook his head and then turned to Sofia. “You have been a true friend to me, and I repay you with harsh words. How am I to repay you?”
“Always listen to my advice,” she counseled with a mischievous grin. “As long as you succeed, then that is payment enough.”
“You have put me above yourself. Your ways are unselfish.” He studied her for a moment and then a thought came to him. There was a way to show his appreciation. “The jeweler’s there,” he said, motioning to the same shop he and Marianne had visited before. “Later, after I leave, I wish you to purchase whatever your heart desires. It is the least I can do.” She went to speak, more than likely to argue against it, but he forestalled her. “Do not defy the wish of a Duke.”
“Very well, Your Grace,” she said with a smile, and they resumed their walk. “I will do it only because you insist.”
“That I do,” he replied.
They arrived at the area where men were unloading various tools from a cart. Watching from a short distance, Sofia whispered in his ear, “Although I have hired them, they are under your command.”
He frowned down at her. “My command? But why…”
She hushed him with a lift of a finger and then pressed her body against his arm. “I need a strong Duke to make sure they do not take advantage of me…and to help oversee my estate.”
“I do not understand,” he said, furrowing his brow. “You wish me to take control of your businesses?”
“Not as you think,” she said with a laugh. “However, I would like you to continue to help me after our plans have been completed. Your strong presence, the presence that demands respect, I will need it. A woman in this day and age has very little power, but with a powerful man to help her whenever she needs something, well, that will be of great importance to me.”
He considered her words. What she said made sense. It was true that women were considered poor business owners, although he did not see it as so. “Then you shall have it,” he said.
They stood watching the men continue to unload the carts, and he imagined what it would be like to own even more than he already did. “So many shops and business,” he said with a laugh. “Even Mr. Blithe wishes to rent a shop space from me.”
“That is because…” She bit off the words and shook her head. “Forgive me. Forget I said anything.”
His curiosity was piqued and he turned back to her. “No, tell me what you were going to say.”
“I am sorry, but I cannot. I value our friendship too much to hurt you.”
Confusion rushed through him, and the anger that had subsided earlier returned. “Why is it that no one respects my wishes?” he demanded. “Everyone wants something from me, but when I ask a simple question, I cannot get an answer.” Several people stopped to stare, but when they noticed him watching them, the moved along with a hurried step. “Now, tell me. What is it?”
“Very well,” she said with a sigh. “Mr. Blithe has been using you; I can see it from a far distance, although I am afraid you cannot, and it is right in front of you.”
William laughed. “That is not possible.” Yet, for some odd reason, he began to doubt his own logic. Could it be true? Why would Sofia lie about something such as this? The woman would gain nothing by speaking lies about Marianne’s father, at least in this manner.
“He has used his own daughter,” Sofia explained, clearly with great reluctance.
“I advise caution with your words, Madam,” he hissed.
“Do you not see?” she said. “Mr. Sharp was courting her, and now that man is heartbroken, for she has done her father’s bidding once again.”
“What do you mean?”
“Her father was happy for her when Mr. Sharp had her eye. When Miss Blithe told her father of you, he was more excited, for your fortune outshines that of Mr. Sharp a hundredfold. I do not doubt she cares for you in her own way, but she is allowing you to court her to appease her father. He only sees your money and how he will benefit from it, but he does not see you.”
William had to hold his hands at his side to keep himself from rubbing his temples. “Do not ever speak of her again,” he said. “I do not wish to hear it.”
She shrugged. “When confronted by the truth, few rarely do,” she said. “I will leave you now. Enjoy the rest of your day, Your Grace.” And with that, she left him to stew.
The woman had given him wonderful advice on many things, but on this, she was wrong. Yes, Marianne’s father was prone to talk about business at every turn, but Marianne cared for him. Did she not?
Chapter Seventeen
Marianne spent a good portion of the morning readying herself for William’s arrival. She chose her dress with the utmost care—a lace and muslin day dress, the color of lilacs, that flowed around her slippered feet. Her mother had gone out of her way to sew on tiny pearls, remaining awake many nights to have it completed on time. Marianne’s hair had been meticulously curled into tiny ringlets and then pulled back into a kerchief of the same color as her dress and then topped off with a wide-brimmed hat with a matching ribbon. With the faintest hint of rouge and lip color, she was satisfied that William would be impressed.
“Come, my dear,” her mother said from her bedroom door. “He will be here any moment. We must be ready to receive him when he arrives.”
Marianne studied her dress once more. “No.” She replied with a smile. “I believe I will await his arrival at front of the house.”
Her mother gasped. “You wish to wait for him outside?” she asked in horror. “Whyever for?”
“The pearls on my dress will glint more in the sun than if we waited in the drawing room where the lighting is not as bright.”
Her mother clicked her tongue. “I do not understand what has come over you, child. To stand outside waiting for him? Well, it is…” She shook her head. “I can’t find the words to express such an act.”
Marianne laughed. “Mother,” she said as she turned toward the woman, “there are many times when the rules of society must be upheld. However, on a day such as today, with the bright sun in the sky, it calls for those rules to not be adhered to.”
Her mother snorted. “I have never heard such drivel. However, if you wish to stand outside like some ninny and risk freckling, then you go right ahead. You will not find me by your side.”
Yet, twenty minutes later, her mother was beside her, quite put out as she fanned herself although the day offered a cool breeze to keep the heat at bay. Julia also was in attendance, ready as ever for yet another adventure as Marianne’s chaperone. Marianne wondered if she would grow bored of following her and William around, but when Marianne asked the woman if it would be so, she had laughed.
“I assure you,” she had said, “it is great fun watching the two of you together. I can learn a lot about two people in love, which I use to my full advantage whenever Mr. Ambrose comes calling.
Marianne had sent one of the young stablehands to wait at the entryway to their modest estate to await the arrival of the carriage, and when the young man saw it turn up the drive, he ran with all his might to inform her that the Duke had arrived. Her mother had been surprised at her ingenuity, but it did not quell her complaining about being forced to stand outside her own home to await the arrival of a guest, even if he was a Duke. Or especially because he was a Duke.
The carriage came into view just as Marianne and her parents—her mother insisted her father be in attendance, as well—as the carriage pulled up alongside them. A footman rushed over, placed the step, and opened the door for William, who stepped down from the carriage in a weary fashion. He was dressed with the same care he had taken since embracing his newfound position, but dark half-circles unlined his eyes and his shoulders slumped slightly. To someone who did not know him, he would not appear any different from anyone else of the ton; however, Marianne knew him as a spry, energetic man, and that was not the man who stood before her now.
Despite his obvious wearines
s, he wore a smile, although even that looked tired. “Mrs. Blithe,” he said with a bow as he took her mother’s hand and kissed it. Then he turned to Marianne. “Good afternoon, Marianne.”
“Your Grace,” she replied, just as her mother had responded. She struggled to contain her excitement, for she had much to discuss with him today, and she looked forward to their outing, as well.
“Miss Bevington,” William said as he bowed to Julia. “I understand that you will be accompanying us again today.”
“Indeed, Your Grace,” Julia replied.
“Your Grace,” Marianne’s father said with his usual hardiness. “Shall we go inside and have a discussion?” He turned around as if to re-enter the house.
“To discuss what?” William demanded as he narrowed his eyes.
The small hairs on Marianne’s neck raised. What was bothering him this day?
“W-well, business, of course,” her father sputtered, clearly put out by the tone William used with him.
“I find it insulting that I come to call on your daughter and you only speak of business to me. Not once have you asked me anything about myself.” Marianne had never seen him as angry as he was at this moment, and she could not help but take a step back for fear he would strike her father. “When I wish to conduct business, I will inform you. Now, however, I have other, more important, things to consider.” He turned to Marianne. “Are you ready?”
No sound would escape her lips, so she simply nodded her reply.
“Good. Now, let us be on our way.” He headed back to the carriage without waiting for her, and she found herself hurrying to keep up with him. What she feared was that her parents would demand she remain at home after the way the man had treated her father, but they said nothing as she climbed into the carriage, Julia joining her on the cushioned seat.
It was not until they were well on their way that Marianne released the breath she had been holding. What had gotten into the man? “William,” she said cautiously, “are you all right?” When he did not respond, she added, “My father, he often speaks without thinking, but he is harmless.”
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