Page 30 of His Unruly Duchess
“I shall remember that.” He meant it, believing it was the very least he could do until he had found a suitable residence for her. There was no reason not to make her as comfortable and content as possible until they parted ways.
She lowered her gaze back to the pool. “Does this manor feel like home to you yet?”
The abrupt question distracted Max, not realizing he was still pouring tea into his own cup until it spilled over, stinging his hand. He flinched and set the teapot down, plunging his hand into the pool to prevent a burn.
Caroline chuckled tightly. “Is it that awful of a question? You do not have to singe yourself in order to avoid answering.”
“You took me by surprise, that is all,” he said. “It is not something I have thought about. It just…ismy residence now.”
“You must be someone who adjusts easily.” She took a hesitant sip from her cup, her gaze holding his. He could see in her face that she was fighting the urge to look away, her posture stiff, but she was winning the battle.
He smirked wryly. “It took practice. When you are thrown into deep water, you must learn how to swim or you will drown, and you must do it quickly.” He shrugged. “I had just finished my years at Eton, set to attend Cambridge University when my mother and father died. Becoming a duke and the head of a household when you have only just become a man is a peculiar thing. I like to think I learned to swim well enough, but you would have to ask Dickie and Anna if I was a good replacement for our parents.”
“You werethatyoung?” Caroline stared at him.
He nodded. “And I had large shoes to fill. Mother and Father were the best of parents. They loved one another, they did not scold us much, they wanted us to do whatever we pleased, they were encouraging, and they adored us all. I did my best to be firm but fair with my siblings, but it is hard to be strict when you are a brother and not a father. I suppose that is why Dickie is half-wild. Anna, however—I am forever proud of her.”
“She has always spoken highly of you,” Caroline said, her words like a punch to Max’s stomach, knocking the air out of him. He had never sought praise, so it never felt easy for him to accept.
He cleared his throat. “All I have ever desired since our parents passed is to ensure that my brother and sister are well taken care of. Anna is now, and Dickie ought to be with his new title and inheritance, but I doubt I will rest in building our fortune and our respective reputations until I am gray and old. I toil away for the nieces and nephews I do not have yet, and the children who will follow. I work diligently for the generations yet to come, so they never have to struggle.”
He gulped down a mouthful of hot tea, wondering why on earth he had said so much. That was the trouble, he had found, with talking about himself—once he began, he tended to ramble, and things came out that he did not want to be known. Luckily, it was rare that he spoke of himself. Rarer still for anyone to ask how he was.
Still, he did not want anyone to know that he had never found responsibility easy. He had had to work at it, pouring himself into his duty until he had little strength for anything else:pastimes, the pursuit of a wife, moments to just do what he pleased.
“My father would have liked you, I think,” Caroline said, bowing her head. “He would have done anything for his family too.”
Max’s fingertips itched to tilt her chin back up, so he might see the feeling in her hazel eyes. He did not want her to hide when she was sad or happy or annoyed, lest she display them through her mischievous, distracting antics instead.
“You were young when he passed, were you not?” he said softly, recalling discussions he had had with Anna about the Barnet family. Long before he ever met Caroline, when he had hoped, like so many other gentlemen, to engage Daniel in a business venture.
She smiled sadly. “I was.” She cradled her teacup in both hands and took a bird-like sip. “It is strange to be jealous of one’s brother because they had more time with someone who is now gone, but I used to listen to the stories that my brother and mother exchanged about my father and would feel… left out. They were things I was not there to remember or things I was too young to remember.”
“Anna used to speak of that feeling.”
Caroline suddenly shook her head and straightened up, a smile stretching across her lips. “Goodness, would you listen to us? How morose we have become! There must have been something gloomy hidden away in that strawberry and custard tart, orperhaps it is this pool, making us reflect too much upon the melancholy side of things.”
Max had to laugh. “You are quite right. Why, I think Ididsee a jar of glum jam next to the strawberry preserves. The cook must have put some of the former in by mistake.”
“Glumjam? Oh, that is perfection!” Caroline put her hand to her mouth, her sweet laughter bubbling up behind it. Her eyes sparkled with mirth, her cheeks dusted with the prettiest shade of pink.
He eyed her. “Why do you cover your mouth when you laugh?”
“Pardon?”
“When you laugh or smile, you often cover it, as if it is something to be ashamed of,” he replied.
“Oh… Truly, I do not know.” She frowned in thought. “I suppose someone once said it was polite, and I have done it ever since.”
“You should not,” he told her. “You have a lovely smile and a charming laugh. If you brayed like a donkey, I might understand it, but you do not. Nor do you have particularly crooked teeth.”
She feigned outrage. “So, I have mildly crooked teeth?”
“I have not looked closely enough,” he said, setting his teacup down. “Smile for me and let me make a conclusion.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Certainly not! You must say something amusing if you want me to smile for you, and I am not easily entertained.”
“I suppose ‘I am your husband’ still does not work?”
