Page 9 of Every Duke Has His Thorn
Marina nodded in reply and absentmindedly removed her spectacles. She didn’t need them, after all.
Chapter Five
The next day after breakfast, Marina said to her father, “According to Anne, the duke goes for a ride every morning. While he is out, I would like to stroll through the gardens. Will you accompany me?”
Her father pursed his lips a moment. “I’m not sure that is a good idea.”
“The workmen will be underfoot in a few hours. I know we didn’t ask permission, but it would allow us to see a different aspect of the roof from the terraced garden. What harm can there be?”
Her father rarely denied her anything, so she smiled her most engaging smile.
“Go along with you,” he replied with a chuckle. “I’m content to sit here a while longer before the real work begins.”
Marina found the terraced garden behind the house deserted. Looking up at the hall, she could see nobody observing her through the multitude of windows.
She walked along the gravel path, enjoying the beauty of several varieties of roses and assorted statuary.
Today she wore her favorite walking dress, a pale lavender gown with two ruffles of white lace around the V-shaped neckline. Raising her chin, she enjoyed the slight breeze. Although the day would be warm, she expected to be indoors when the sun hit its zenith. Her bonnet was in one hand, her spectacles in the other, in case she ran into anyone during her time in the garden. Unfortunately, she didn’t see the duke before he saw her.
A warm and husky voice asked, “Miss Davies?”
* * * * *
Preston’s morning ride served not only as exercise, but also allowed him to look over different areas of the estate and examine any improvements he'd commissioned. He inspected the cottage roofs from his saddle, nodding to the children playing outside who gazed up at his horse in awe. His mother had often brought baskets to the women in these cottages. Who would do so now?
It was a flimsy excuse to marry and not enough to tempt him to leg-shackle himself to a woman who would try to change him. Control him.
After his ride to the tenant cottages, he returned to the stable block, and a young groom came running to take his employer’s mount.
It was still early enough to feel a slight chill in the air. He took a detour through the terraced garden on his way to the west entrance of the hall.
Soft humming met his ears when he stepped through the open iron gate and entered his mother’s terraced garden. A young woman stood not ten feet from him, her face lifted to the sky. It was the architect’s daughter.
“Miss Davies?” The woman wore no bonnet, and her glorious hair shone with health, her hair in a relaxed low chignon. Her spectacles were absent. She looked happy and, to his dismay, quite fetching.
“Your Grace!” Miss Davies lowered her chin and immediately placed the spectacles on the bridge of her nose.
She curtsied as he made a shallow bow. As she fumbled to put on her bonnet, he couldn’t help but feel relief at her discomfort. Goodness knows the abundant curves on display in her walking dress were causing his own discomfort.
Miss Davies said breezily, “I was taking a stroll in the garden to get a different view of the hall. My visual inspection hasn’t revealed any other areas of concern.”
Her expression was bland, her cheeks pink, and the young woman didn’t quite meet his gaze. Her explanation was most likely a half-truth, as she appeared to enjoy the garden for its own merits. The fact that he wanted to tease her surprised him. He wasn’t normally given to such frivolity.
“Please continue,” he instead replied with a regal nod. It was enough to see the prepossessed young woman caught flat-footed. She’d proven herself intelligent. She would know he understood she had also wanted to explore the garden. He added in lofty tones, “You may use the gardens for research purposes whenever necessary.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” The pained smile on her face led credence to his thoughts that her gracious reply was a reluctant one.
Perhaps being nice to the young woman would irk her even more than his playing the duke. He gave her a brief nod and walked past her to the house. If he were a betting man, he would wager the spectacles she wore were made of clear glass.
Suddenly, his morning became brighter.
* * * * *
Blasted man! He’d seen her without her spectacles. Not that he’d given her appearance more than a cursory glance. And she had the horrible feeling he’d seen through her explanation for why she was walking in the garden.
She would have to find another place to walk. Heaven forbid she had to thank the man again.
It didn’t help that he carried his tall hat in hand, his luxurious black hair ruffled from his ride, begging her to smooth the stray locks back into place. And his piercing blue eyes were so thickly lashed it really wasn’t fair to her womanly sensibilities.
