rest,” she said as she held out a dressing gown for Miranda to slip into. “The house does not have its full complement of staff, so it was easier than most times to insure that you would not be disturbed.”
“Is the duke busy?” Miranda tied the gown and sat at her dressing table, allowing Fisk access to her hair for arranging. “Something simple, if you please.”
“His Grace has been closed up in his study with his solicitor since early this morning, Your Grace. Other than a call for some food and wine to be served to them there, no one has seen or heard him.”
Their lives did not intersect much at any time, least of all in the country, so Miranda decided to invite the rector and his wife to dinner. Tempted to include her husband, she hesitated, for his opposition to her presence was quite clear. She would stay out of his way for a day or two and then see if she could approach him with her questions.
“If the weather is as fine as it looks from my window, I plan on taking advantage of it and sitting out in the gazebo. Would you have Cook send some chocolate and a roll out to me there?”
“Of course, Your Grace. Should I join you there?”
Fisk stood and helped her out of her night rail and into a yellow day dress that had short sleeves and was trimmed in white ruffles. After taking the proffered matching bonnet, Miranda shook her head. “There is no need. You may remain inside.”
Miranda picked out a book she’d been intending to read and walked through the house, out a side door, and found the gazebo surrounded by pleasant sunshine. Once her chocolate and roll arrived, she sat quietly and read the book she’d chosen.
Actually, she tried to read, but irritating and bothersome thoughts kept creeping into her mind. Finally, she put the book down on the table and considered her options.
She’d learned over the last four days of travel that there were many things about her husband that she did not know. Lord Parker had regaled her during their time in the carriage with tales of his and Adrian’s visits to the various Windmere estates and other places in England. Even a hunting lodge in Scotland that Miranda did not know the Warfield family owned. When he’d looked embarrassed about having mentioned it, she knew it was used for the type of event a wife was not invited to attend.
She’d learned last night that her husband could be stubborn and secretive. Something was indeed going on, and he did not want her interference. His words clearly told her she was an inconvenient interruption to his plans.
The wind blew a loose curl free and it fell into her face. Miranda tugged off the bonnet and laid it on her lap, rearranging the curl.
She’d also learned, by her own weakness and reaction to the thought of his more personal relationship, that she would not be able to broach such a subject with him. They’d adjusted over the past few years to a certain level of marital involvement, and, although it was not the warm and personable one she’d dreamed of having with her husband, it was clearly his choice.
She smiled at her own folly. A momentary lapse in the duke’s behavior did not mean he wanted things to change. It meant that he was simply a man. She should have waited for something more significant than one night’s overindulgence to signal a change in him…or a crack in his ducal veneer.
“You do make such a lovely sight, Your Grace.”
The words and Lord Parker’s approach startled her out of her thoughts. “My lord, you surprised me.” Shading her eyes to see him in the bright sunlight, she realized she had no bonnet on.
“Pardon for barging in on you here, Your Grace. I’ve been bumping around the house and grounds and not having much success finding anyone else. Well, at least anyone who is not engaged in some earth-shatteringly important endeavor that cannot be interrupted.”
He looked confused and then laughed. “Not that your activity here is not as important—that is, not as…”
Miranda held up her hand to stop him. “I took no offense at your words,” she said, pointing to an empty chair. “Join me if you care to.”
As they slipped into a pleasant conversation about the estate, Miranda realized that she’d spoken more to Parker in these last few days than she’d spoken to Adrian in years.
He tugged the curtain aside once more to watch her. From his study he had a clear view of the gazebo on the western veranda and its occupants. His wife had been alone for some time before Parker had joined her. They seemed to rub along quite companionably. Parker had told him of the journey north from town. Although she still looked pale, Miranda did appear recovered from whatever had ailed her last evening.
“So, that is the extent of the settlement for the duchess? No property, no title?” Adrian turned to face his solicitor.
The terms of the will and the entailment were not a complete surprise to him—without a male heir to inherit directly, everything moved to his grandfather’s other line. His mother had also inherited an income from her eldest brother, so her future was quite settled.
Miranda was a different sort of problem. With her widow’s jointure, she would live closer to the edge of genteel poverty than to the standards to which she’d become accustomed. When they had married, her dowry had replenished his family’s depleted coffers and allowed him, on his accession, to make much needed improvements on the grounds here, as well as on the other family estates. Her father, overwhelmed by the prestige of joining his with the exalted Warfield family and Windmere name, was not overly concerned with carving out a protected settlement for Miranda. And he’d been willing to pay for the privilege of his daughter marrying even the second son of the esteemed Duke of Windmere.
Within a few years, changes unthought of and certainly unanticipated had occurred, and the second son held the title. And after his death, she would have a small allowance and be granted a place to live on the grounds of Windmere Park. As the widow of the previous duke, with no family to take her in, she would be an outsider.
Still an outsider.
As she’d always been.
Turning back to the window, he watched her talk quite animatedly about something with Parker. Then she stopped and her smile disappeared. Instead, she stared pensively out toward the lake and nodded her head at whatever question she’d been asked.
It was only a thought at first. Then it tickled Adrian’s conscience and drew his attention. He watched as some sadness overtook her, and he found himself opening the window. For what, he knew not. Drawing away, he tried to discover the source of his discomfort.
“Your Grace? Should I continue?”
“Let us break for a bit. I should like to walk to clear my head,” he said, nodding at the man.
Anderson agreed readily and gathered his papers into neat little piles before standing and bowing to him. Adrian waited for him to leave his study before opening the door that led out to the gardens. Striding quickly, he approached the gazebo and listened to the conversation.
“Rubbish!”
“I assure you, Parker, though it may sound as though I boast, I could do it.”
“An affront! That’s what it is. An affront to my honor,” Parker replied with the theatrics of a man intensely insulted.
Adrian’s curiosity
