Page 70 of A Bride for the Icy Duke
“And, of course, there’s always the cabbages,” she said.
Lydia nodded, although she rarely ate cabbage if she could help it. “Of course. What does the pig eat?”
“Anything we don’t.” The woman had laughed as she’d picked up a tea towel and hauled the cast-iron kettle off from above the fire.
So now, Lydia cradled a cup of hot tea in her hands, making sure to avoid the chip as she sipped, and whenever Alexander glanced down at her to make sure she was all right, she made sure to beam at him in response.
“You must be proud of His Grace,” Mrs. Thomas huffed, coming to stand beside Lydia, a tiny bundle of cloth in her hands. Their fifth baby, she had explained, and a delight after their last child, who had screamed like the devil for two years straight.
“Why, yes, I am,” Lydia smiled.
“His father never came down these parts, that’s for certain,” Mrs. Thomas continued. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”
“I don’t think there’s any harm in speaking ill of those who deserve it, living or dead.” Lydia chewed on her lip as she watched Alexander balancing precariously. Her heart hammered in her chest, only alleviated a little by the way he turned and winked at her.
“Aye, well, you’re probably right.” Mrs. Thomas jiggled her baby absently. “I don’t know of anyone around these parts who would say a kind word for the old duke, that’s for certain.”
Lydia frowned. “What was so bad about him?”
“He was a miser, and I don’t say that lightly, because folks round here are used to not having much in comparison to you, Your Grace, if you don’t mind me saying. That’s the way of life, and we don’t mind it. But if something went wrong and it was his duty to repair it, he’d send his steward down to argue on his behalf, telling us how he isn’t going to pay out of pocket to have it fixed up proper.” She let out a sigh. “It’s a rare sight to see such a fine man getting his hands dirty.”
Of everything Lydia knew about the former duke, this fit. A miserly man who spared nothing for the people under his care, whether his tenants or his son. Not his money, and certainly not his love.
“The duke has been absent of late,” Lydia said distractedly, still watching the way he worked, silhouetted against the sky. To everyone’s surprise, he had shed his waistcoat and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, despite the chill. Lydia cradled the waistcoat in her lap.
The man she first met in her bedchamber would never have done this.
It would take time to make him feel as though he belonged, but hope had lodged itself in her chest and would not be removed. Not that he would stay—she had already assured herself of that.Hehad assured her of that. But that he would come to feel as though he belonged here as deeply as she did.
“His Grace has always been kind to us, and we don’t forget that.” Mrs. Thomas smiled, her face crinkling with the gesture. Years of working outside, toiling in the garden and further afield, had made her look prematurely old, perhaps, but just as the sun had aged her, so had kindness brought with it a new, rare beauty.
“Thank you,” Lydia said impulsively. “I believe His Grace would be very happy to hear that.”
“Well then, you be sure to tell him, and tell him too that I’ve made pies for the boys who’ve volunteered to help us with the roof, and he’s more than welcome to one.” With that, she bustled back inside, and Lydia remained where she was.
The adagemany hands make light workcame true in this instance, and it wasn’t long before Alexander was striding back toward her, a smile across his face and his cheeks flushed with the exercise.
“Are you not cold?” he asked, taking both her hands in his and pressing kisses to them. “I’d expected you to wait inside.”
“And not see if you fell?” She laughed. “If you were to fall, my darling, I’d want a front-row seat.”
“I had no intention of falling.”
“One rarely does.”
His smile only widened. “Brat,” he said affectionately. “What am I to do with you?”
“Well, I hope you will have one of Mrs. Thomas’s pies, as she made them for all the men who helped out, and you may count yourself as one of them. Then, I believe, Old Gregor is going to take us back to the house in his cart, considering the time and the weather.” She placed her hands on his shoulders and allowed him to help her down.
“Old Gregor?” he asked with an amused huff, brows raising. “I take it you have been fully adopted into the fold.” He gestured at the workers’ cottages.
“He was kind enough to keep me company as I waited,” she chuckled softly, waving to the gap-toothed old man who had been forbidden from climbing onto the rooftop to help, but who had two donkeys and an old cart. “To think, I’ve been here a year and never made the acquaintance of these people. I feel quite ashamed.”
“We both have a little neglect to make up for,” Alexander shrugged, running a hand through his hair and frowning.
Lydia caught his hand. “You less so. This has gone a long way to make them all adore you. I think there’s very little you could do wrong in their eyes.”
“You have a great deal of faith in me.”
