Page 54 of The Duke's Inconvenient Bride
He turned to Mrs. Travers. “Would you show the duchess around?” Without waiting for a reply, he said, “Thank you,” and went inside.
“Well, I never,” Mrs. Travers exclaimed.
Emma glared at his back so hard that she was surprised he didn’t feel it. She’d wanted him to show her around, not Mrs. Travers. Although she supposed this was a good opportunity to engage with the housekeeper.
“Where shall we begin?” she asked.
“How about in the largest common spaces?” Mrs. Travers suggested.
“Let’s.”
Emma followed Mrs. Travers up the stairs and into the most exquisitely appointed home she’d ever entered. She gazed around, awed by the plush maroon upholstery and the dark panels of wood that comprised the walls and floors.
A chandelier hung above the staircase, its sharp angles so severe that Emma feared it would impale someone if it ever fell.
“The ballroom is through here.” Mrs. Travers gestured to the right. Obediently, Emma headed in that direction. The room dwarfed her and featured a stage against the far wall that was arranged for musicians to play upon. A grand piano occupied the center.
“Does Ashford Hall regularly host dances?” Emma asked.
Mrs. Travers tsked. “Not since the previous duchess was alive, rest her soul. The duke isn’t a particularly social sort.”
“I’ve noticed that.” Emma wasn’t either, although she was beginning to think she might have the duke beat.
“He has a good heart, though,” Mrs. Travers added, as though her comment had been disloyal.
Emma hoped the housekeeper was right. She also hoped that the duke’s “good” heart was available for stealing.
It took over an hour for Mrs. Travers to guide her through the house, pausing in each room to give a quick description of what it was used for and allowing Emma to look her fill.
“I shall need a nap after that,” Emma said upon the completion of their tour. “There are so many rooms.”
“It requires a lot of effort to keep the hall in order,” Mrs. Travers said.
“I’m certain it does.”
Mrs. Travers pointed at a door—the last on their tour. “Those are the duchess’s chambers.”
“Thank you.” Emma hesitated, then said, “Perhaps we could meet sometime in the next couple of days to discuss menus and so you can explain the workings of the house to me in more depth?”
“Yes, Your Grace. Just tell me when.”
Emma smiled. “I will.”
Mrs. Travers bobbed her head and swept away.
Emma drew in a breath and entered her new bedroom for the first time. A breeze carried the scent of the outdoors in through an open window, and her spirits lifted. How different this place was from London. Even if the hall overwhelmed her, she could delight in the surrounding countryside.
She walked to the bed, which was recessed into the wall with a door to the left that she assumed led to the duke’s bedchamber. A quick glance showed that there was no key in the lock, and hence, no way for her to lock it. Not that she wished to.
She perched on the edge of the bed—it was much bigger than her one at Carlisle House—and looked at the portrait that dominated the wall above the fireplace. She had no idea who he was, but his stare unnerved her. At least he was handsome.
She stood and opened the wardrobe. Her dresses hung from a railing inside, carefully displayed by order of color, exactly how Daisy knew she liked them.
She removed her shoes, lay on the bed, and closed her eyes. The pillow was the perfect height for her head, and birds sang outside, lulling her to sleep.
When she woke, it was to see a maid hovering at the foot of the bed, carrying a tray. Emma tried to recall her name. It definitely started with a ‘J.’
“Apologies, Your Grace,” the maid said, keeping her head down. “I didn’t know you were asleep. The duke asked for dinner to be brought to your room, since you must be weary from traveling.”
