Page 19 of A Virgin for the Cruel Duke

CHAPTER 9

Afew days had passed since the disastrous perambulation with the young Mr. Dewsbury. Stephen had written to the family and informed them that his sister was no longer interested in pursuing the courtship. It had been a polite but cold letter and while Dewsbury had come to call several times since and left his card, each time he was told politely that they were not in.

Hopefully the young ass would eventually give up. Selina’s happiness was not to be squandered on the hubris of proud young men who didn’t even have the sense to appreciate the woman in front of them.

“Elizabeth, you absolutely must come and tell me what you think of the samples for some of my wardrobe for the season,” Diana exclaimed, tugging Elizabeth past the open door of the library where Stephen was sitting.

His attention had not been on his books or his work for some time. No matter how hard he worked to focus on everything heneeded to do, his thoughts drifted away to thoughts of his wife. Her eyes were universes of secrets and her lips promised endless temptations and he was having to stay late hours in his study to try to catch up on his daydreaming hours.

Was this what married life was like? How did anyone ever get anything done?

His gaze followed Elizabeth as it was now wont to do as she followed after Diana, a little smile on her face. She was settling in better now. Selina was warmer to her and even Herbert had stopped viewing her with open suspicion. She talked a little over meals, though still mostly sat quietly and listened.

He found that if she was nearby he was looking at her, watching her. She drew his attention like the sun. He noticed things like how her meals were always small and plain, carefully selected from the simplest items on offer and how her dresses were also simply made and practical.

Stephen couldn’t decide whether she was a modest, cautious person or if she simply wasn’t used to the luxury of an estate like Westall. Her wit was quick enough when she liked, but other times she shrank from confrontation. She was a creature of passion and also of restraint, of quiet footsteps and a loud voice.

He was mystified by her. And worse, he could tell that she wasn’t happy, and it was driving him mad.

Perhaps at the beginning it would have been reasonable for her to be unhappy with the way that she had been married offwithout a say in the matter to a family that was hostile to her, but now she was settled, she was surrounded by anything she could want, she had gotten the friendship of his younger sister and she still was not happy.

It wasn’t even as if he could be angry withherabout it. She was notunhappy. She was not moping around creating misery for herself. But she had an air of reserve, a quiet sort of seriousness as though there was something that stopped her frombeinghappy.

Stephen hated it. He found that of all things in the world at this moment he wanted Elizabeth to be happy, to smile and laugh and embrace her new home. It was important, for the peace between the families of course. How could there be peace if the Duchess wasn’t happy?

That was why he rose from his seat, left his book lying on his chair and strode out to summon a horse. For the treaty. That was all.

“My dear fellow, what exactly is it that you are telling me?” Perceval Hamilton, Marquess of Stapleton asked, his kind face clouded by a small frown of concern.

Stephen had ridden up to Stapleton's manor, covering the several hours of travel at a fierce pace. Some people thought that his fast, sometimes furious activity meant that he was a man who didn’t think through his actions, however the opposite was true.He considered things carefully, with a strategic mind, and then once his mind was made up so was his path set. He acted quickly and without mercy or hesitation.

Percival had taken him into his study and was pouring them both decanters of brandy with the sort of single-minded focus that had made him a particularly good student when the two of them had been in college together.

“What part of my speech is confusing you?” Stephen said, perhaps more sharply than was warranted. Now he was taking action on the matter he was impatient to get started. “I am in need of marital advice, and as you have been married since the Dark Ages by this time, you seemed the right person to speak to.”

“Very droll,” Perceval said, rolling his eyes and handing him a glass. “You have indeed made your point in as few words as you could, my friend, however I need more specificity. Do you want advice on managing your married household, putting off your in-laws, understanding your wife’s purchases? The matter is vast and varied, and while I am obviously an expert on the subject I do need a little direction.”

Stephen scowled and sipped his brandy, flexing a fist at his side at the thought of his in laws trying to take over Westall Estate in any way. “I trust you know me well enough to know I can manage administrative matters on my own. No, it is the matter of Elizabeth - the Duchess and her -” he groped for the right word. As dear a friend as Stapleton was, he did not want to speak too freely to him about his wife’s heart. It felt like an intrusion to take the private things she was feeling and dissect them withanother. “Her moods. I am at a loss on how to handle her moods. How do you manage with your lady wife when she is unhappy?”

“Good God, man!” Perceval exclaimed, sitting back in his chair. “I never thought it would happen so fast. You are barely wed and already the feathers of the hen are ruffled, are they?” He barked a laugh, his eyes twinkling. “It’s different dealing with the sharp tongue of a woman, isn’t it? I always say better by far to box the ears of a man who has insulted me than to hear Celia raise her voice in anger. The creatures are so soft and sweet but their hearts are mighty!”

“Indeed,” Stephen said dryly, raising his eyebrows. “I have noticed that.”

“Take heart, sir!” Perceval said, his smile broadening. If there was a topic that would be sure to keep Perceval Hamilton speaking hour on end, it was the matter of his beloved wife Celia and the joys and trials of being wed to her. “I can help you. I have weathered many a storm from my lady’s fair eyes, and I have much advice for you. Now, what manner of upset is the Duchess in, tell me. Is she storming around your house? Is she slamming doors or scolding? Has she taken to the particular polite coldness that can only mean a lonely bed and a long difficult mystery to solve on why she is so offended?”

“She is quiet,” Stephen said, slowly. He was struggling to imagine Celia doing any of the things being described as he had always known her to be a calm, sensible lady. “And withdrawn, I suppose. She appears neither happy nor unhappy. She is notshutting herself away but she is not exactly speaking with me either.”

“Ah,” Perceval said sagely. “I see.”

It would be a very simple thing to shake his friend of decades by the shoulders, but Stephen did not. Not because he couldn’t, but because he was a generous man who was asking a friend for advice and with that came some annoyances like said friend acting as though he were a sage explaining the mysteries of the stars. “What do you see, pray?”

“You, my dear friend, have taken some action that has hurt the lady’s feelings,” Perceval said firmly. “We all do so now and again. A lady is a wondrously steady soul, but the strangest and most alien actions can cut them to the quick. When I have upset my wife I buy her gifts to assure her of my affections and distract her from her wounded feelings. What you must do, without pause, is have some pretty trinkets brought to your home and give them to the lady. Ply her with sweets and flowers, give her glittering baubles, perhaps a fine hat. She will soon forgive you whatever it is that you have done without knowing.”

While Stephen was not certain that Stapleton was right when he said that Elizabeth’s feelings were hurt, it certainly sounded like the sort of thing he could remember seeing his father do for his mother when they were still alive.

Sometimes his mother, who had been small and fierce and kind and beautiful, would storm around the house in a quiet coldtemper and his father would lay beautifully wrapped presents on her bed for her to find.

“That is a good idea,” he said, standing up and bowing. “Pardon my quick departure.”

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