by Darcy Burke
Kit looked out at the goats grazing about. He caught sight of a handful of kids, and turned to ask the duchess, “Beau wanted a baby goat, is that right?”
“He was taken with a baby goat, but he’ll love all of them the same.”
Mr. Maynard opened the gate and held it while Kit and the duchess went into the pen. Mrs. Maynard and their daughter hadn’t followed them.
When they were all inside, Mr. Maynard closed the gate and led them toward a group standing nearby. “We’ve had four births in the past fortnight, and we’re expecting a half-dozen more in the next fortnight. Spring’s a busy time!” He laughed as he looked toward Kit.
“I can imagine,” Kit said. “As it happens, we’d like to have a small herd nearer the castle. My son would like to learn to tend goats.”
Mr. Maynard’s brows climbed. “Would he now? That seems an odd education for a future duke, but a right noble one.”
Kit knew the man meant no offense, and in truth, he would have agreed. He wondered if the real duke would have allowed Beau to tend goats. From what he knew of his cousin, he would wager not. “I agree. You will find I am not your typical duke.” He smiled and couldn’t help darting a look toward the duchess.
She was staring at him with something akin to amazement. Someday, he would stop shocking her. Maybe. Again, he might leave before that happened. In this case, he hoped not. He wanted her to trust him. He just wasn’t sure why. Maybe because he thought it would be good for her. She needed to know that her current husband wasn’t the horrid beast she remembered.
Until he left her, and then he really would be that horrid beast.
Except she wouldn’t care. She’d be relieved to have her life back the way she wanted it—he saw resentment buried beneath the alternating waves of apprehension, shock, and bemusement.
“Do you think we could have a small herd?” the duchess asked Mr. Maynard.
“Oh, certainly. And I’d be happy to come build a pen. You’ll need a shed for shelter too.”
“I can help with those,” Kit offered. When both the duchess and Mr. Maynard looked at him in surprise, he realized he’d once again stepped outside the normal bounds of his role. “As I said, I’m not your typical duke. Let me know the size and specifications, and I’ll see that we have the lumber. We’re keen to have the goats up at the castle as soon as possible.”
“I look forward to helping, Your Grace.” Mr. Maynard’s gaze shifted to a spot over Kit’s right shoulder. “Blast! Racer’s found his way out of the gate again. I thought I’d fixed that latch!” He dashed toward the perimeter of the pen, and Kit followed, quickly realizing that he would be able to catch the wayward goat faster than Mr. Maynard.
Kit easily leapt the fence and broke into a hard run. He caught up to the animal and swept him up off the ground. A loud bleat filled his ears as he slowed and pivoted back toward the pen. “Aren’t you a noisy thing? Disappointed to be snatched so quickly, eh? I bet you’ve given Mr. Maynard a great deal of trouble. Perhaps you should come to the castle. I think Beau might like chasing you about.”
Mr. Maynard and the duchess waited for him just outside the pen as Kit deposited the goat over the fence. “I thank you kindly, Your Grace. I’d still be after the louse.”
“Glad to be of assistance, Maynard. Perhaps you’d better send—Racer, is it? A fine and accurate name, it seems—to the castle if he’s causing you difficulty.”
Maynard looked at him with doubt. “He’s a bit contrary. Are you certain you want to have him there?”
“I’ll trust you to decide what’s best. I only wanted to make the offer if it would be helpful to your herd management.”
They walked back to the cottage, where Maynard offered them refreshment. Kit declined, saying they had several other tenants to visit. Maynard promised to send specifications for the pen and shed to the castle by the following morning.
When Kit and the duchess returned to the horses, he offered to help her up. She didn’t respond, only nodded slightly. He did his best to touch her in only the most perfunctory of ways and terminate the connection as quickly as possible.
When she was settled in her saddle, she looked down at him in question. “It appeared as if you were speaking to that goat. What did you say?”
“I told him he was noisy and asked if he was upset that I caught him so quickly. Then I asked if he wanted to come and be Beau’s pet.”
She stared at him and then the most beautiful thing happened: she laughed. Her lips curved up, and a sound akin to the birdsongs he’d heard in the tropics wrapped around him. He stood below her, basking in the glow of her humor and decided it was the warmest, brightest place in the world.
“You should do that more often,” he said softly, then immediately wanted to take it back as the joy leached from her face. The carefree woman with the enticing smile faded into the guarded and distant duchess.
“My apologies,” he said. “I didn’t mean to overstep. Let us continue.”
He climbed onto his horse, and they rode to the next tenant, who showed them his cow herd. Kit had little experience with cattle and was excited by the prospect to learn more. As he asked dozens of questions, he could hear the voice of his father saying, “Kit, you can’t mean to know everything in the world, but by God you will try.” He also realized he could spend the rest of the afternoon here, but they needed to move on. He promised the tenant he’d return soon. All during the conversation, the duchess had watched him with something between bafflement and awe. She’d also asked questions, which Kit had found admirable.
The third tenant was a farmer, and by now, Kit was heated enough that he accepted the man’s offer of ale. He refused, however, to sit, instead preferring to tour the fields, tankard in hand. The duchess had gone inside with the farmer’s wife, and Kit wondered if they should return to the castle. The afternoon had grown quite warm. Perhaps they could visit just one more tenant. He’d expected to find this tour interesting, but now felt something far deeper—he was invested.
Kit finished his ale and handed the empty tankard to Mr. Dooley. “Thank you for your kind hospitality.”
“Thank you for coming, Your Grace. Are you heading back to the castle now?”
“I think we’ll visit one more tenant.”
Dooley nodded. “I’m on my way to my neighbor to help him repair his roof if you’d care to come along. Not to fix the roof, of course, but I can introduce you. Bricker is a bit brusque, but he possesses a good soul, and he needs help from time to time. He lost his sons in France and Spain.”
Kit’s chest squeezed. It seemed hardly fair for people like his cousin—noblemen with wealth and prestige—to be exempt from such horrors while young country boys gave their lives, often leaving their families much the poorer for it.
“Does he do all right?” Kit asked.
“Well enough. We help each other out, Your Grace. That’s why I’ll go and fix his roof.”
“I’m coming with you—to help,” he said firmly, making his intention clear.
Dooley appeared momentarily aghast, but seemed to accept that Kit’s offer was genuine. It was also not open to negotiation. Although, he was quickly realizing that a duke was never questioned. “That’s too kind of you. I’ll just go and fetch my tools. I’d planned to walk if you want to go on ahead.”
“The duchess and I will meet you there.”
After Dooley provided directions to Bricker’s house, Kit went to the cottage and knocked on the door. Mrs. Dooley answered with a smile, and the duchess appeared behind her.
“Ready?” the duchess asked as she tied her riding hat beneath her chin. It was a jaunty piece with a peacock feather, set at an attractive angle atop her dark locks.
“Yes.” He thanked Mrs. Dooley for her hospitality, and the duchess did the same. Outside, he explained they were going to make one more stop. “I hope that’s all right with you,” he said.
“Certainly.”
“You’re not too warm or too fatigued?” he ask
ed.
She narrowed her eyes at him briefly. “I am not the typical duchess.”
Whether she was trying to be charming or not, he was utterly captivated, and he couldn’t keep a chuckle from escaping. “I will remember that.”
She arched a brow at him in the shade of her saucy hat. “How about you? Are you overheated or tired?”
It was a fair question, and he had to revise his earlier sentiment. It seemed there was one person brave enough to question a duke, and, given her behavior, he’d never imagined it would be her. Perhaps he was making a positive impression. Perhaps she was letting down her guard.
“I’m fine, thank you.” He helped her onto her mount, again with all due haste, and they were quickly on their way to Mr. Bricker’s. They passed Dooley a short way down the track, and he waved as they trotted by.
“Is Mr. Dooley going to Mr. Bricker’s too?” she asked.
“We’re going to fix his roof. If it looks as though it will take a long time, I can see about finding an escort for you back to the house.”
“That won’t be necessary. As I said, I’m not too tired to continue.” She shot him a quick glance as he happened to do the same toward her. “First you say you’ll help build the goat pen and shed, then you catch a goat, and now you mean to fix a roof? Did you learn all these things while you were away?” She sounded rather incredulous, and now Kit wondered what her husband had done to pass his days. Riding, he’d seemed to enjoy riding. How…dull. Unless one had a specific destination or an engaging companion. He sent another glance in her direction.
“Are you aware of Mr. Bricker’s situation?” he asked.
“No. Should I be?”
“He lost his sons in the war and requires help to keep up his home. I plan to assess his circumstances and see what I can do to improve them.”
“I can do that while you repair the roof,” she said as they rode off the track toward his cottage.
He brought his horse to a halt and dismounted. As he went to her horse to help her down, he said, “An excellent idea. We’ll work together to ensure Mr. Bricker’s comfort.”
She set her hands on his shoulders as he swept her to the ground, and since they’d already done this several times, he was aware that this time, they rested upon his coat a fraction of a moment longer than they had previously. “I’m afraid I wasn’t aware he was alone, and I should have been. I allowed Cuddy to keep me out of things. I should have ridden out here myself and done what you’re doing.”
He heard the self-derision in her tone and wanted to allay her remorse. “Don’t admonish yourself. It’s not as if you’ve been idle. You’ve had Beau and the management of the castle, which is more than enough to keep you busy. From what I can tell, you’ve acquitted yourself quite well in my absence.”
“How can you tell? You’ve scarcely been back a day.”
Perhaps he couldn’t really, but his intuition told him he was right. “The staff clearly revere you, and your son absolutely adores you. I’d say that’s pretty damn successful.” He winced as he realized his transgression with his language—and he’d been working so hard. “My apologies. It’s a bit difficult to leave the life of a sailor behind.”
“So I’m beginning to see,” she murmured. Her gaze moved past him, and she inclined her head toward the cottage. “Here comes Mr. Bricker.”
Kit pivoted to face the man as he ambled toward them. He moved slowly and possessed a bit of a hunch. Kit wanted to offer the man retirement right then and there.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Bricker,” Kit greeted. “I’m Blackburn.”
Bricker cocked his head to the side and studied him a moment. The longer the man waited before he spoke, the more Kit’s anxiety kicked up. Did he see something? Could he tell Kit wasn’t Rufus Beaumont? “You look different, Your Grace. In fact, if you hadn’t introduced yourself, I wouldn’t have thought it was you. I’ll admit there’s a small resemblance, so I might’ve wondered.” He looked over at the duchess. “You sure this is him?”
Kit’s breath stalled in his chest as Bricker moved his scrutiny back to Kit. He dared to look at the duchess, who’d turned her head toward him.
“As sure as I can be,” she said.
It wasn’t exactly a resounding endorsement, but it was the best he could hope for. He sought to move past the awkwardness as quickly as possible. “I understand you’re in need of roof repair. Mr. Dooley is on his way, and I’d like to help. What seems to be the problem?”
“You’re going to fix my roof?” There was a note of admiration mixed in with the man’s surprise.
“I’d like to, yes.” He glanced back toward the track and saw Dooley approaching. Good, the man would be here in a few minutes, and they could get to work. Kit turned his focus to the thatched roof of the cottage. “Do you have a leak?”
“A bit in the corner. I’ll show you.” He led Kit to the edge of the small cottage and pointed at the watermarks on the exterior. It’s worse out here, but there’s some drip inside if you care to take a look.”
“Of course. That’s why I’m here. Tell us, Mr. Bricker, what is it you do here?”
“I keep a few sheep, Your Grace. I’ve a small farm too, but Dooley and Wallace—he’s to the north of me—do most of the work nowadays.”
“Well, that doesn’t seem quite right, Mr. Bricker.” Kit realized his error as the man’s bushy gray eyebrows pitched low over his eyes. “Not that you aren’t doing the work, but that you don’t have adequate help.”
“I do have adequate help,” Bricker said hotly. “Dooley and Wallace help me just fine.”
Before Kit could respond, the duchess moved closer to the older man and gave him a warm smile. “I’m sure they do, Mr. Bricker. Would you mind escorting me inside where it’s likely a bit cooler? I’d love to hear all about your sheep.” She gave Kit a pointed look and tucked her arm around the older man’s. Bricker seemed to stand straighter as he turned from Kit and walked her into his house.
It wasn’t lost on Kit that Bricker hadn’t treated him with any of the deference that every other person had so far. Probably because he didn’t think Kit was actually the duke.
Well, it had been bound to happen, he supposed. But would the man question him? Kit would’ve doubted it, but Bricker seemed immune to ducal decorum.
That made Kit smile.
Dooley strolled toward the cottage. “You met Bricker, then?”
“I did. I’m afraid I might have given him the wrong impression, that he should perhaps not require assistance.” Kit shrugged out of his coat and set it on the stoop. He didn’t much care if it got dirty or ruined, or if the same happened to any of the clothes he was wearing, for that matter. Tomorrow, the tailor would come to measure him for a new wardrobe. He didn’t plan to procure anything extravagant, but he was in dire need of at least some garments that befitted his new station. Hell, he just wanted a few extra things that weren’t old and worn.
Dooley set his tools down, and his mouth quirked into a smile. “I expect he was crotchety about it. He’s a curmudgeon, but don’t let that get to you. As I said, he’s a kind soul. Underneath all that,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ll just go and fetch his ladder.” He moved around to the side of the cottage, and Kit rushed to help.
An hour later, they’d repaired the thatching. Kit had removed his waistcoat too and had practically soaked his shirt with sweat. The labor felt good, and he looked forward to building the goat pen.
Bricker came outside and immediately stepped directly on Kit’s coat, not that he seemed to notice, as he walked into the yard to survey their work.
The duchess closed the door behind her as she came out into the sunlight. She nearly stepped on Kit’s clothing too, but bent to pick it up with a slight frown. Her gaze came up and traveled around until landing on Kit. From the widening of her eyes and the faint streaks of pink on her cheeks, he assumed she was scandalized by his state of undress.
He glanced toward Dooley, who was also in shirtsleeves. But h
is was a work shirt, and he was expected to toil, while Kit was apparently supposed to supervise and refrain from activity. Well, fuck that.
“His Grace did a fine job,” Dooley said. “I was grateful to have his help today.” He nodded toward Kit. “Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure.” Truly, he’d enjoyed every moment. “Please let me know if I can be of assistance again.” He decided to shake both men’s hands, first Dooley to show Bricker what he meant to do and then the older man, who still looked at him with a dose of skepticism but also a scant bit of something that might have been admiration.
“I appreciate it, Your Grace,” Bricker said. He turned a fond look toward the duchess. “Her Grace said you’d like to offer me a retirement cottage. I’m much obliged, but I’d still like my sheep.”
“We’d be delighted for you to keep your sheep, Mr. Bricker,” he said. “I’m sure there is no one better.”
They said their good-byes, and Kit unrolled his sleeves as he walked toward the duchess. She held up his waistcoat with an arched brow—a favored expression of hers, he was beginning to learn.
He pulled the garment on, then took his coat from her as they walked to their horses. “Thank you,” he said simply.
“I didn’t want to say so, but your clothing is a bit of a disgrace. Your old garments are somewhere in the castle—I’ll have Kirwin dig them out.”
“He already did,” Kit said as he pulled on his coat, then set to buttoning his waistcoat. He’d have given anything to pull off his cravat, but decided a duke shouldn’t go that far.
“Already?” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Kirwin is exceedingly efficient. You said I ran the castle well, but the truth is he and Mrs. Hunsacker manage everything so ably that I hardly need to do a thing.”
“I find that hard to believe.” He detected a penchant for her to discount herself and wondered if her lousy husband was to blame.
