Page 42 of Surrender Your Grace
Most days, Andrew left early and didn’t return until late—sometimes not at all. When they did attend events, he often rushed in last-minute and rarely stayed for more than a few minutes.
Whispers followed her at every gathering. Her gowns were deemed too plain. Her figure—too curvy for fashion. She lacked the elegance of her predecessors. And worst of all, it was said, she couldn’t seem to hold the new duke’s attention.
But tonight, she hoped would be different.
“All finished, Your Grace.”
The comment and the snap of a hair clip jolted Cici from her thoughts. Turning her head from side to side, she assessed her maid’s handiwork in the mirror. Soft curls framed her face, with the rest of the thick waves cascading from her crown. Shimmering amethyst woven through the strands seemed to tone down the unfashionable red.
“You’ve worked your magic again, Mary,” she said with a smile. “Thank you.”
Cici rose, smoothing her skirts. Now all she needed was her husband. She checked the time. Worried because they should be going soon. Tonight had been scheduled for weeks. He had promised to attend.
As her maid closed the door to the hall, the adjoining one opened. Andrew entered, still in his morning coat, his hair damp from the misty rain, tension etched in his face.
She knew in a glance something had come up—again.
“You look lovely, Cici.” he said, catching her gaze in the mirror.
“How kind of you to notice,” she replied, turning to face him.
He sighed and crossed the room. “I suppose I haven’t noticed much of anything lately.”
“You’ve been busy,” she offered, though the words tasted of disappointment.
“There’s so much, it’s overwhelming. Estates I’ve never even seen, some I didn’t know existed.” He hesitated, and she waited to hear about the latest crisis. “There’s been an issue at the Berkshire estate. Two tenants—at odds for years—are threatening violence over lease terms. It’s escalated.”
A beat passed.
“You must go,” she said quietly.
He nodded.
Her fingers twisted in her skirts. “Of course.”
“I’d much rather be here with you,” he said, reaching for her hand.
“But you won’t be.”
“I can’t,” he said low, squeezing gently. “I hate how often I’ve had to said that.”
She took a breath, feigning calm. “The gossips are finding new material. Some say you’re imaginary.”
He gave a tired smile. “Yet, here I am, holding your hand. So much for their theories.”
Cici had always heard that rumors often contained a thread of truth; that was why they were often believable.
“How long will you be away this time?” she asked.
“Only a few days.”
She nodded. The pattern was familiar. Hope. Disappointment. Departure.
“You shouldn’t put your life on hold while I sort through mine,” he said. “You’re not bound by strict mourning. Host. Take up causes. Make your mark.”
“Elizabeth is the outgoing Edwards sister,” she reminded him. “I don’t like going out alone. And I wouldn’t know where to start with the other things you mentioned.”
“You must have friends.”
