Page 50 of Wedded to the Duke of Seduction

“And the blue drawing room is used primarily for afternoon callers, Your Grace,” Mrs. Phillips explained, opening a set of double doors to reveal an elegantly appointed chamber. “The previous duchess preferred it for its excellent light.”

Marina stepped into the room, admiring the delicate blue silk adorning the walls and the tasteful arrangement of furniture that created several intimate seating areas.

“It’s lovely. I can see why she favored it.”

“Indeed, Your Grace.” The housekeeper’s stern face softened slightly. “The room catches the afternoon sun perfectly. The late duchess was fond of embroidery and claimed no other room in the house provided better light for detailed work.”

Marina moved to the window, gazing out at the well-manicured garden below. The tour of her new home had taken nearly twohours already, and they had yet to explore the upper floors or the servants’ domain.

The townhouse was massive by London standards, the Rencourt family’s wealth and position made clear.

“I think I shall continue the tradition,” Marina decided. “This will be an excellent place to receive visitors.” She turned back to Mrs. Phillips with a smile. “Now, what about the household accounts? When are they typically reviewed?”

The housekeeper’s eyebrows rose fractionally—the first sign of surprise she’d shown during their extensive tour. “His Grace normally reviews them quarterly with the steward, Your Grace. The next review is scheduled for the end of the month.”

“I see.” Marina nodded thoughtfully. “I’d like to familiarize myself with them before then. Would tomorrow morning be convenient for you to walk me through the current arrangements?”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Mrs. Phillips seemed pleased by the request. “I keep detailed records of all household expenditures. Since His Grace has been absent so frequently in recent years, I’ve maintained a strict accounting of every shilling.”

“I expected nothing less,” Marina assured her. “I’m also interested in the menus for the coming week. I know His Grace has particular preferences, and I’d like to ensure they’re being met.”

“The Duke likes French cuisine for formal dinners but prefers simpler English food when dining alone,” Mrs. Phillips replied promptly. “He’s not overly particular about breakfast although he insists upon proper coffee—a habit gained during his travels, I believe.”

Marina filed away this small insight into her husband’s tastes. “And the staff rotation? I noticed several footmen during dinner last night, but only one at breakfast.”

Mrs. Phillips nodded approvingly. “Indeed, Your Grace. We maintain a lighter presence during informal meals to allow the family privacy. The full complement of staff is available for formal occasions and dinner service.”

Marina followed along as they toured the house—the sitting rooms, the formal dining area, the spaces she’d soon manage. She asked straightforward questions about how things worked, determined to handle her new role as smoothly as she’d run her first husband’s home, even though this one was far more impressive.

“And through here is the portrait gallery,” Mrs. Phillips explained, guiding her down a hallway lined with paintings.

She walked slowly, taking in each portrait until one painting stopped her in her tracks.

Two young men stood side by side, both dressed for a hunt. They were tall, good-looking, but clearly very different in personality.

One was unmistakably Leo—younger, his face open and relaxed but definitely the man she’d married. The other bore a strong resemblance but appeared more carefree, his smile easier.

“Is this His Grace’s brother?” Marina asked, studying the second figure with interest.

Mrs. Phillips’s expression tightened almost imperceptibly. “Yes, Your Grace. That is Lord William, painted some twelve years ago.”

“They look quite close,” Marina observed, noting the casual way the brothers’ shoulders touched in the portrait, the relaxed postures suggesting genuine comfort in each other’s company.

“They were, once.” The housekeeper’s voice held a note of sadness. “Lord William has been gone for many years now.”

Marina glanced at her, intrigued by the phrasing. “Gone? You mean he no longer lives in England?”

Mrs. Phillips hesitated. “Mr. William has been… away for some time, Your Grace.” Her tone was gentle but final, the kind of practiced diplomacy that signaled further inquiry would be unwelcome. “It’s not my place to speak on the matter.”

Marina, sensing the boundary, let the subject drop.

“And has His Grace been away frequently?” Marina asked, keeping her tone casual.

“These past ten years, extensively.” Mrs. Phillips’s expression turned thoughtful. “His business often takes him to the continent for months at a time. He maintains strict standards for the household even in his absence, but…” She hesitated.

“Yes?” Marina prompted gently.

“A house needs its master and mistress, Your Grace,” Mrs. Phillips concluded simply. “The staff has noted how different His Grace seems since his return this time. More… present if you’ll forgive the impertinence.”

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