Page 8 of Every Duke Has His Thorn
“We can meet in the library daily.” He paused. “After breakfast. Alone.”
The other man replied, “Yes, Your Grace. My first order of business will be ensuring the safety of the tester bed before starting an inspection of the roof.”
“Very good.” He took his leave, eager to be away from the outspoken yet alluring Miss Davies.
* * * * *
The duke did not want her in his meetings with her father. No matter. She was used to that. More than a secretary, she was still not a trained architect. Marina could not study architecture at a proper school or apprentice to anyone other than her father. She was happy enough to be allowed to help with his work. Pushing too hard would not further her cause. She earned respect by doing, not talking about it.
It was considered eccentric enough that she was a secretary. If her father had been higher elevated in society, her presence beside him would elicit more gossip.
During their last project, she’d received too much attention from the lord of the manor. Now she wore spectacles and carried her notebook against her chest. She bound her breasts once, but the result was too uncomfortable.
Men seemed to find her attractive, and she garnered more attention than she liked, even within the gentry. Thankfully, the duke seemed not interested in her in the slightest.
Once the duke left them, her father said, “The materials ordered for the plasterers are in the old tithing barn near the stable block. After tea, take Anne with you and inventory the supplies. I will speak with the butler about moving the tester bed. A few strong footmen might be able to shift it.”
Although Marina privately thought the bed would be too heavy to move, she would let her father deal with the tester bed. After consuming her midday meal, she headed for the barn, Anne in tow. Marina would transcribe her notes from the morning tour later.
“Cook said there are going to be several laborers arriving at the hall on the morrow,” Anne commented as she led the way to the tithing barn. “His Grace means to make right his neglect of the hall.”
“My father told me the duke was traveling for nearly three years. That seems an awfully long Grand Tour.”
“The duchess died right before His Grace decided to travel abroad. I’ve only been employed on the estate for a few weeks, but it’s said the duchess was a controlling woman. She was overprotective as her son was the only heir. Cook says the duke left England for a time to feel what it was like to be free.”
Marina thought the man she’d met didn’t seem like a man who could be manipulated by his mother. Or any woman.
Anne continued, “Cook tells me the duchess was bearable until her husband died almost ten years ago. The marriage wasn’t a love match, mind you, but by all accounts, the old duke kept the duchess in check.”
Something the maid said struck her. “You said the hall had been neglected. Surely the duke had a steward looking after the estate while he was away.”
The maid replied, “Mr. Sparks disappeared after the duke returned to Barton Hall. He was taking money from the estate accounts. He’d worked for the duke’s family for twenty years. I wonder what made the poor man start stealing from his employer?”
Marina thought that was a good question.
When they reached the barn, Anne pulled back one of the large doors. The huge aisled barn looked as old as Barton Hall. One side of the barn held animal feed and farm tools. Across the aisle were the building materials.
“Thank you for accompanying me, Anne.” Marina’s focus must now be on inventorying the supplies.
She spent the next several minutes counting boxes and sacks. When she compared the supplies on hand with what had been requisitioned, everything was in order.
Once Marina returned to the dower house, she spent the rest of the afternoon transcribing notes from her tiny notebook to the ledger her father had set aside for their work at Barton Hall.
She sat near an open window in the drawing room, hoping to catch a cool breeze, when she heard the warbling of a starling outside. The sound transported her back to when she was a little girl, and her mother would point out the varied birds found near their home.
After Marina had completed her education at home, with an emphasis on etiquette and the classics, her mother agreed to allow her to help her father in his work. A year into Marina’s unconventional apprenticeship, her mother died. Working on the restoration of great houses had helped both her and her father in their time of mourning.
She wondered if her etiquette lessons were to prepare her if she was ever reunited with her mother’s family. The third daughter of an earl, her mother had been disowned for marrying her father. Her parents met while her father was an apprentice to Jeffry Wyatville and assisted in the renovations of her mother’s childhood home.
She had no desire to reconcile with her mother’s people. Her father was now her only family. Her lessons in proper etiquette did come in handy as she crossed paths with varying degrees of the aristocracy while working alongside her father.
She finished transcribing her notes and placed her laptop desk and notebooks on the octagonal table in the center of the room. Her father entered the drawing room, looking glum.
Taking a seat on a stuffed chair, he sighed heavily. “No luck with shifting the tester bed. It is not only heavy, but also not particularly sturdy. We removed the heavy velvet four poster curtains for safe-keeping, and the bed and canopy are covered with tarps.”
“It is rather an old bed.” Marina handed the ledger to her father so he could review her notes. “The inventory of supplies is complete, and nothing is missing. I’ve finished writing up a summary of the rooms we toured today. Did you notice all the loose paneling in the rooms?” she asked.
“I did. I’ll discuss the paneling with the duke at our next meeting.” After a few minutes, her father closed the ledger and placed it on a side table next to his chair. “Tomorrow, after the workers arrive, I will have the men assigned to the roof get up there. We cannot start work on the second floor until we know how bad the roof is.”
