Page 18 of The Design of Dukes
Theo shut her book with a loud clap. “His mother ran away with a soldier. Granby was only a child at the time. According to Cousin Winnie, the scandal was that much more enormous because her soldier was just that—not an officer of any renown. Terribly embarrassing for Granby’s father, the late duke. Although, I don’t suppose it would have been better if her lover had been a general or captain of the guard.”
“No, I suppose not.” Romy returned her gaze to the countryside, thinking of Granby as a young boy.
“It was gossiped about for years, theutterhumiliation of the Duke of Granby. Everyone said the old duke deserved it for marrying so far beneath himself. He was mocked constantly, and so was Granby. No wonder Beatrice holds such appeal for him.”
“I still don’t see what any of this has to do with his obvious dislike for our family.”
“Do you not?” Theo asked. “Perhaps it will come to you during the course of the house party.”
Romy gritted her teeth. Theo had a habit of appearing wise, as if she sensed the truths no one else could see. Shewasincredibly intuitive, though, unfortunately only in regard to others and not herself. Blythe was a perfect example.
“Oh, dear. What a monstrosity.” Theo’s eyes widened, taking in her first glimpse of The Barrow. “It is so large even I can see it clearly.”
The enormous edifice, rising out of the hill as the coach climbed, was made of the same gray, weathered stone as the guardhouse and was as imposing as the cliffs lining the coast they’d traveled. The Barrow was stark, free of adornment, towering over the surrounding countryside, austere, and intimidating, much like the man who resided within. Four rows of windows faced the drive, like a dozen eyes all looking down at the Averell coach with little welcome as the sisters approached.
It was exactly the sort of estate Romy supposed the Duke of Granbywouldhave. Or a menacing giant from a child’s fable. The only warmth Romy could sense at all in The Barrow was the estate’s gardens. The gardens appeared, at a distance, to be nothing more than a disorganized jumble of plants and color, but as they drew closer, Romy could see the beds had been carefully designed to look like fields of wildflowers. A profusion of colorful vines, some rather exotic-looking for England, cascaded over a low stone wall on one side of the wide drive. The Barrow’s bleak facade could have benefited from some of the beautiful flowering vines, but Romy supposed none were brave enough to scale the walls of the house.
Immense gardens weren’t unusual, especially not at a duke’s home, but the layout here wasn’t typical. No head gardener worth his salt would have planned out the gardens of a prestigious residence in such a way unless he had been commanded to do so. Granby, with his frigid demeanor and reputedly exacting nature, seemed an unlikely candidate to have such wildness surrounding him. Perhaps it was the influence of Lady Molsin.
Another vehicle, painted black, sat stopped before the immense set of double doors. Four perfectly matched bays, feet stomping on the gravel and coats gleaming in the late afternoon sun, stood waiting before The Barrow.
“Blythe,” Theo whispered, immediately squinting out the window at the coat of arms decorating the coach’s door.
“You idiot. You can’t see a thing.”
Theo swatted Romy’s knee. “ItisBlythe. Look.”
Blythe exited his coach dressed in a patterned waistcoat and a coat of peacock blue. The gold in his hair glittered like an old coin as he jogged up the steps. The footmen rushed forward, greeting him with a friendliness that spoke of Blythe having been a guest at The Barrow many times before. He bestowed a smile on all of them, even clasping the tallest footman on the shoulder.
He never once glanced in the direction of their coach.
Theo’s entire body arched and deflated in a dramatic sigh. “Isn’t he beautiful?”
“Stop it this instant, Theo. Your mooning over Blythe is becoming intolerable. If I didn’t know better, I’d assume you've hit your head and lost your wits.”
“You don’t understand,” Theo said. “You’ve never been in love.”
“I think the word you are looking for is infatuation.” If Theo started to giggle and blush, Romy might be reduced to smacking her cheeks.
The door of Blythe’s coach banged open again, and another pair of booted feet struck the gravel of the driveway with a crunch. This gentleman was taller than Blythe by an inch or so and was not nearly as well-dressed. While his coat must once have been magnificent, the fine cloth showed extensive wear. He stretched his arms upon exiting, exposing loose threads peeking out of the seams. The fine leather of his boots, and Romy could see they’d once been expensive, was dull with wear and even cracked in some places.
Where Blythe bounded up the steps like an oversized puppy, this man sauntered toward the door like some great tomcat seeking a patch of sunlight.
“Who do you suppose that is?” Romy asked.
Blythe’s traveling companion turned his shaggy head, catching sight of Romy and Theo observing him. The tomcat analogy was an apt one, for Romy had only ever seen a cat possessing eyes of that color. The mossy green was evident even from the distance separating him from their coach. The ends of his hair, the same color as the horses pulling Blythe’s coach trailed along his collar and teased at his shoulders. He gave them a short, mocking bow, before striding up the steps and into The Barrow.
“Haven,” Theo said with certainty. “Completely disreputable.”
“Have you met him before?” It seemed unlikely, but perhaps he’d been with Blythe in the park.
“No. But Rosalind knows all about him. She thinks Haven quite handsome, though he’s poor as a church mouse. His father gambled away everything that wasn’t entailed. Cousin Winnie has warned her away from him. He’s a marquess prone to dueling and gambling, himself.”
“Well, that explains the state of his coat and condition of his boots. The impoverished part, I mean.”
Her sister shook her head. “Must everyone be reduced to nothing more than the sum of their clothing?”
“I notice such things. I can’t help it.”
