Still smarting from the last prank Colebrook had pulled – the one that had resulted in being awoken in the middle of the night by three drunken sailors belting out a lewd tune about a mermaid – he had no interest in playing the part of charitable host. Or any host, for that matter. As a man who valued his privacy, he did not take kindly to visitors. Particularly visitors who showed up whenever they pleased and refused to leave.
“Where is this lovely wife of yours I have heard so much about? You’ve got the entire village buzzing like a swarm of hornets.” Colebrook’s smile widened. “Won’t be long before the ton catches word that the reclusive Duke of Wycliffe has finally tied the knot.”
“And I’m sure you won’t have anything to do with spreading the news,” Evan said sourly.
“Moi?” Colebrook spread his fingers over his chest. “Wouldn’t dream of it, old chap. Which is why I told my cousin not to breathe a word of it when he returned to London.”
“I thought you were supposed to be London,” Evan grumbled. Resigning himself to the fact that Colebrook had no intention of leaving anytime soon, he clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. If he was going to be miserable for the undeterminable future then he might as well be comfortable.
“Had to return early.” Colebrook’s smile faded. “Some of the renovations with the estate went awry. Turns out one of the so-called architects I hired knew less about roof support than he let on. I won’t bore you with the details–”
“Thank God for that.”
“–but suffice it to say the entire bloody house is unlivable until new beams can be put up. Which is why we’re going to be roommates, old chap.”
Evan leaned forward so quickly his teeth snapped together and he bit his tongue. Sucking furiously on the tiny cut, he stared at Colebrook in horrified disbelief. “The hell we are.”
“I prefer a west-facing bedchamber. Sunsets are pretty enough, but sunrises?” The duke shook his head. “Those I prefer to sleep through. I’ve put up the majority of my staff in the village inn, but I’ll need accommodations for my personal valet, footman, and cook. No offense intended, Wycliffe, but I’ve tasted that over-sauced rubbish your French chef dares to call food and I must say he’s about as good at his job as my architect.”
“You’re not staying here and neither is your valet, your footman, or your bloody cook!” Evan rose out of his chair and leaned forward, knuckles gleaming white in the dim lighting as he braced his fingers on his desk. “This is not a damn hotel.”
Colebrook frowned. “That’s not very hospitable of you, Wycliffe. It is not as if you don’t have the room. Why, this place is so big and empty you would hardly now I was even here.”
“My answer is no,” he said flatly. “Now kindly take your feet off my furniture and sod off.”
“Sorry, old chap, but I can’t do that.” While Colebrook’s tone was vaguely apologetic, his blue eyes glittered with amusement. “Two carriages are on their way here as we speak. Just a few personal belongings, you understand. I can hardly be expected to live out of a single trunk now, can I?”
Evan grinded his teeth together with so much force he felt a distinctive pop in his jaw. Short of engaging Colebrook in fisticuffs (a fight he would almost certainly lose given his physical impairment) or shooting him outright (a compelling choice, although he feared he didn’t have the temperament for prison) there was nothing he could do but allow Colebrook to stay.
But he didn’t have to like it.
“I’ll direct my butler to have your things delivered to the third floor when they arrive.”
“Is there a west-facing bedchamber?”
For the first time since Colebrook had entered his study, Evan smiled. “There are several.” There were also mice, cobwebs, and a leaky roof which was why the third floor had been sealed off for the better part of half a decade. “Take your pick. And please, if there is anything you need, do not hesitate to let my valet Peterson know.”
Colebrook gave an approving nod. “Now that’s more like it, Wycliffe. You know, I think this time together will be good for us. Strengthen our friendship and all that.”
“Oh most definitely,” Evan said gravely. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a horse waiting.”
“Going for a ride?” Jumping to his feet with surprising quickness given his leisurely nature, Colebrook followed Evan to the door, the heels of his boots echoing on the wooden floor. “I’ll join you.”
“No. You won’t.” And without another word Evan walked through the door and shut it soundly in Colebrook’s face.
Chapter Seven
Hannah spent the rest of the day making lists. An organized person by nature, she had relied on lists from a very young age, first to catalog her doll collection and then to keep a running tally on all of her sister’s extravagant purchases. Needless to say those lists had been quite long, but they were nothing compared to the one she was currently working on.
Remove and replace drapes in every room, it began in her neat, tidy handwriting.
Wash windows, repair cracked panes
New shutters – iron or wood?
Wash and polish floors
Beeswax!!
Dust all sconces and chandeliers everything
Replace candles
New furniture
New rugs
New paintings
And so the list went. On and on and on until it began to feel less like a list and more like a small novel.
Exhausted from climbing up and down countless flights of stairs (not to mention the sheer enormity of the tasks that laid ahead), she collapsed onto her bed and started to close her eyes, but no sooner had she drifted off to sleep than she was jolted awake by Elsbeth.
“You’re not wearing that to dinner, are you? It’s filthy.” Charging into the room with all the discretion of a small but determined rhinoceros, the maid took one look at Hannah’s dirt-streaked dress before she promptly went to the closet and pulled out a blue gown overlaid with sheer white muslin. “Quickly,” she said when Hannah groaned and dragged a pillow over her head. “It wouldn’t due to be late. You’re a duchess now, you know.”
Hannah did know, mostly because Elsbeth wouldn’t let her forget. Being the personal maid of a gentlewoman was one thing, but being the maid of a duchess…well, that was something else entirely and Elsbeth was taking her elevated position very seriously. So seriously, in fact, that Hannah was tempted to offer Elsbeth the title if only to give herself a moment’s peace and quiet.
“I believe I’ll take supper in my room. I’m very tired.”
Elsbeth clucked her tongue. “Don’t be ridiculous. You have a guest!”
“A guest?” The pillow tumbled to the floor as Hannah sat up and frowned. “What sort of guest?”
“A duke,” her maid said importantly. Carefully draping the blue gown over the back of a chair so as not to wrinkle it, she motioned for Hannah to stand with an impatient flick of her wrist and whisked the soiled dress off her head. “The Duke of Colebrook, to be precise. He owns the neighboring estate.”
Colebrook…Colebrook…the name sounded familiar, although she couldn’t quite place it.
“Do you know what he’s doing here?” she asked, recalling that her husband did not get many visitors. Which was not surprising, given the state of the manor. Who in their right mind would want to sleep amidst scurrying mice and sticky cobwebs? Three times she’d been woken by the sound of tiny claws scratching away in her closet which was why she now slept with a fire poker by her bed. Although hopefully as long as the mice kept to their end of the treaty she’d struck with them on her very first night – that was, to remain out of sight and out of anything that resembled a pocket – she’d never need to use it.
“Having dinner, I imagine.” Climbing onto a three-legged stool, Elsbeth slid the new gown over Hannah’s head whilst she stood with her arms straight up and her ankles touching, feeling for all the world like an awkward stork. “Then he must be spending the n
ight because I saw one of the scullery maids bringing fresh linens up to the third floor.”
“The third floor?” Hannah’s nose wrinkled. “But it’s filthy up there.”
Tying off the gown at the neck and waistline, Elsbeth stepped down off the stool and lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. “Maybe they’re cleaning it as well.”
“Maybe,” Hannah said doubtfully. To say the staff’s work ethic was underwhelming was a grave understatement. From everything she’d witnessed, they were nothing short of lazy. And why wouldn’t they be, when their employer didn’t seem to care – or even notice – the two inches of dust coating every surface?
Her mother may have been a frivolous spender, but she’d always run a tight household. ‘Tis the duty of every good wife, she’d told her daughters on more than one occasion, to give their husband sons and an orderly house. Having failed to do the first, Lady Fairchild had seen to it their home was always impeccably turned out. Hannah could only hope to accomplish the same with Wycliffe Manor. A formidable task, but then she had always enjoyed a good challenge.
Standing patiently while Elsbeth pinned her hair back into a neat chignon that left two auburn tendrils dangling from either side of her temple, she finished her appearance with a pair of tiny pearl earrings – the only jewelry she’d brought with her – before heading to the dining room.
To her surprise, she arrived to find her husband already seated at the head of the long oak table where they’d been taking their supper – often separately. A blond man impeccably dressed in a white cravat and burgundy tailcoat sat to his right. They both rose when Hannah entered the room, but only the blond man (whom she assumed to be Colebrook) bowed.
“This must be your lovely duchess,” he said, slapping a hand on Wycliffe’s back. “Well done, old chap. She’s a beauty.”
Wycliffe’s only response was a short grunt, but Hannah couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze seemed to linger on her as she took her usual seat at the far end of the table. She offered him a tentative smile, to which he replied with a scowl. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at his predictably curmudgeonly demeanor, she turned her attention to the first course of their meal, a piping hot bowl of boiled cauliflower and turmeric soup. But when it became apparent that Wycliffe and Colebrook intended to carry on a conversation without her – easy enough to do, given how far away she was – Hannah promptly picked up her soup and her spoon and sat down beside her husband.
“There,” she said cheerfully, pretending not to notice Wycliffe’s glowering stare. “Now we can converse without shouting. Tell me, Your Grace.” She looked across the table at Colebrook. “How is it you know my husband?”
“We go way back,” Colebrook said, a twinkle in his blue eyes. “Some might even call us childhood chums. Which was why I knew I could count on my old friend to put me up while my estate is undergoing renovations.”
“Oh?” Pausing with the spoon halfway to her lips, Hannah glanced at her husband who was scowling into his bowl with such ferocity she wouldn’t have been surprised if the soup curdled. “What sort of renovations?”
“All sorts.” Colebrook waved his hand in the air. “I am afraid my grandfather was a bit of a gambler. Unfortunately, he wasn’t very good at it and lost the family estate in a particularly unlucky hand of cards. I was able to reacquire the old girl some years ago, but haven’t had the time to devote to her restoration until recently.”
“How fortunate you were able to reclaim your childhood home,” said Hannah.
“Indeed.” There was a temporary lull in the conversation as their next course was served: roasted lamb covered in sweet cream sauce and asparagus sautéed in red onion with garlic. “So tell me,” Colebrook said once the servants had left. “How is it you came to marry this grumpy old bastard?”
“Is he grumpy?” Hannah said innocently. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Tossing his head back, Colebrook laughed. “Beauty and wit. I quite like her, Wycliffe. You’re a lucky man.”
Suppressing a smile, Hannah stole a sideways glance at her husband. He sat stiffly in his chair, one hand wrapped around his fork while the other gripped his knife as if it were a deadly weapon. It was clear from his body language that he disliked Colebrook, but she couldn’t imagine why. The other duke was friendly, warm, and amusing. In short, he possessed all of the qualities Wycliffe lacked. And yet as her gaze flicked back and forth between the two men, she found herself preferring her husband’s dark, brooding nature over Colebrook’s innate charisma.
Wycliffe may not have been outwardly charming. Or inwardly, for that matter. But there was something about him that pulled at her. She liked that he said what he thought. His opinion was not always been kind, but at least it was genuine. A babbling brook may have been pretty to look at but it was shallow and slight compared to a river which, while deeper and more treacherous, contained far more life within its watery depths.
“I am the lucky one,” Hannah demurred.
Wycliffe’s startled gaze rose from his plate to meet hers, a faint line appearing between his thick brows as they drew together over the bridge of his nose. His lips parted as if he were about to speak, but with a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head he took a bite of lamb instead.
Colebrook, having watched the subtle exchange with some interest, leaned back in his chair and changed the subject to the weather. For the rest of dinner he and Hannah maintained a polite discourse while Wycliffe ate in silence, his expression unreadable. Only when Colebrook offered to take Hannah down to the stables to show her his prized thoroughbred stallion did he finally speak.
“You’ll not be taking my wife anywhere, Colebrook.” His fist hit the table with more force than necessary, rattling the silverware and causing Hannah’s brows to lift. If she didn’t know any better she might be tempted to think there was a hint of jealousy in her husband’s stormy blue eyes. But surely she was mistaken. For someone to be jealous of someone else they actually had to show interest in them, and ever since their kiss he had displayed a distinctive lack of interest. In fact, with the exception of their exchange earlier in the day, they’d hardly spoken more than a dozen words to one another since the day of their wedding!
“Perhaps you would like to take me,” she said impulsively.
Wycliffe blinked. “Take you where?”
“To the stables, of course. I haven’t seen them yet, and I would like to meet the horses. Unless you are too busy, in which case I am certain Colebrook would be delighted to accompany me.” It was a dirty trick, to use one man against the other. One she’d seen deployed time and again but never tried to use herself…until now. Desperate times, she thought silently. If she didn’t take the initiative with her marriage, who would? And if this was what it took to finally get her husband to notice her, well, then she wasn’t above getting her hands a little dirty for once.
Colebrook stood up. “Wouldn’t you know, there’s something I’ve forgotten I need to do. Unless, that is, you need me to walk you down to the stables.” He looked out the window. “It has gotten rather dark. I wouldn’t want you to trip or lose your way.”
“She doesn’t need your help,” Wycliffe growled. If he had hackles, they would have been standing on end. “If she wants go to the stables then I’ll take her to the bloody stables.”
It wasn’t the most romantic invitation Hannah had ever received, but it was better than nothing. “Excellent!” she said, jumping to her feet before he could change his mind. “Let’s go.”
“Now?” he said blankly.
For such an intelligent man, he was remarkably obtuse at times.
“It is getting rather dark. But if you’re busy…”
“I will fetch your cloak,” he said, jaw clenching as he shoved back from the table and stalked out of the room. Hannah bit her lip when the door slammed behind him and looked up uncertainly at Colebrook. Perhaps she’d made a mistake…but to her surprise, the other duke winked.
“Good job love,” he sai
d approvingly. “I’ve never seen the old chap in such a state before. You’ve not known each other for very long, have you?”
“We met on the same day we became engaged,” Hannah confessed, her fingers twisting together in her lap. “It was a very…unusual circumstance.”
“I can only imagine, seeing as Evan has sworn up and down he would never marry.”
“Yes, he said as much. But I do not understand why.” Hannah knew plenty of men who were reluctant to take the plunge into marital bliss – her sister’s almost fiancé being one of them – but she’d never heard of a man who never wanted to get married. Especially a duke who did not yet have an heir.
“He didn’t give you a reason?” Colebrook asked.
She shook her head. “Not specifically.”
“Well, it is not my story to tell, but suffice it to say there was a woman.” His mouth twisted in a humorless smile. “Isn’t there always? And this woman received amusement at your husband’s expense. It’s funny.”
“What is?” Hannah asked, for she found nothing the least bit humorous about what Colebrook had just told her.
“The things that stay with us.” He was quiet for a moment, and she could tell that even though he was looking at her he wasn’t really seeing her. Then he blinked, and his rakish smile returned just as the door swung back open.
“Are you coming or not?” Wycliffe demanded, holding up Hannah’s cloak, an emerald green garment trimmed in soft gray fur. His gaze narrowed when he saw Colebrook was still in the room. “I thought you had a pressing matter to attend to.”
“On my way,” Colebrook said easily. As he walked behind Hannah’s chair he leaned in close and whispered, “Good luck, love. You’re going to need it.”
Chapter Eight
Jealousy.
It wasn’t an emotion Evan was accustomed to, and it wasn’t one he liked. Yet all it had taken was the mere thought of Hannah alone in the stables with Colebrook for the green monster to raise its head, leaving him hard-pressed not to leap across the table and punch the smirk right off of Colebrook’s bloody face.
A Duchess for all Seasons: The Collection Page 31
