Page 21 of The Jilted Duchess
“Hmm.”
Alexandra turned to glance at him as they began walking back towards the house once more. “What of the Dowager Duchess and the Marquess? What were they like to work for?”
“I fear I am not at liberty to say, Your Grace. It is one thing to provide details on the deceased Duke, rest his soul, but quite another to discuss the living.”
“I completely understand, Mr. Laroux.”
“Besides,” the butler sniffed disdainfully. “She would not appreciate it, I am sure. She always had rather strong opinions, even when she was woefully inaccurate.”
Alexandra broke out into a grin. “Mr. Laroux, are you saying-”
“I am quite sure I am not saying anything at all, Your Grace. Nothing at all.”
Hector scratched his chin thoughtfully as he reached the end of the new contract he had been reading. He shuffled the papers back into a stack and made a note to himself to place a call to Gregor & Sturgiss next time he travelled north to discuss their plans to ship more iron out to the continent in more depth. He was a shrewd businessman and never liked to agree to new terms without going over every detail and making quite sure it would be a success for both himself and his partners.
He rose and crossed to the window, looking out onto the gardens as he opened the last envelope on his desk. He groaned aloud as recognized the stamp of an invitation curling across the top. He despised balls, all that pageantry and dress up and making nice with people he knew still looked down their noses at him. He skimmed the page until he reached the names of the hosts.
Lord Phillips? Och, he’s a good lad. We’ve always been friendly. Guess I daenae need to try and make up an excuse to get out of it.
He strode across the room and flung open the door, startling the maid who was poised to knock, tea tray in hand. The cup rattled alarmingly in its saucer as she stepped back, and the tiny chinamilk jug toppled to the floor, raining white liquid down onto the carpet.
Her eyes immediately filled with tears. “Y-y- Your Grace, I’m s-so sorry. I cannot apologize enough. I’ll get a cloth, I’ll get more milk, I’ll get-”
“Calm yerself, lassie. It’s only a spot of milk.”
She sniffed hard, dithering at the side of the hallway. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace. I’ll fix it. I brought you your afternoon tea.” She held the tray aloft so suddenly and violently that the china rattled again.
Hector had been about to say that he did not require tea today, but he suddenly found himself fearful both for the maid’s state of mind and the safety of the rest of his tea china. He held up his hands as though soothing a feral horse. “Dry yer eyes, lassie. Gracie, isn’t it?”
Her lips wobbled as she rubbed her eyes with her sleeve. Hector thought privately that she’d be in quite a bit of trouble with that habit, if Mrs. Hopsted ever caught her doing it. “Yes, Your Grace. I’m Gracie. Your Grace. Oh we’re both Grace, see?” She choked off into a mildly hysterical laugh and Hector chuckled too.
“We are indeed, lassie. That means yer neednae be so frightened of me, eh? Why daenae you take that there tray into me study, and then go find a cloth for the milk? I’ll be back to take tea in a matter of minutes.”
Gracie curtseyed, rattling the tray again. “Yes, Your Grace, sorry, Your Grace, thank you, Your Grace,” she mumbled before hurrying into the room.
Hector began to walk away, chuckling to himself, before a thought occurred to him. “Hey, lassie, you wouldnae happen to ken where me lady wife is?”
Grace blinked for a few moments, trying to decipher what he was asking in his thick Scottish brogue. “Oh! I believe she’s out in the gardens, Your Grace, with Mr. Laroux.”
He nodded in thanks and turned to walk towards the entrance doors, still chuckling quietly. He paused for a moment to scrutinize the vast oil painting now sitting slightly crooked in the hall. He reached out and pushed the left side up, straightening it out.
Nice scene. Decent amount of hounds in it. The lass has chosen well.He mused to himself before stepping outside and scanning the grounds before him. He saw Alexandra and the butler walking side by side up the path, and for a moment, he lost himself staring at her. He had never considered himself much of a romantic, but watching the way the light danced through her brown curls made his stomach flip slightly.
As if she felt his eyes boring into her, Alexandra looked up and met his gaze. The jolt that ran through him reminded him of that moment in the church when they laid eyes on each other for the very first time. Dimly, he wondered if there would come a time when staring into her eyes would not elicit such a response,but he decided against asking his brothers-in-law. He knew they would tease him for it, and rightfully so.
The pair drew nearer, and Hector dismissed Mr. Laroux with a smile and a friendly word. Alexandra looked up at him, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. “Good day, husband,” she said lightly.
“Good day, wife,” he echoed.
“Were you looking for me?”
For a moment, Hector was at a loss about why exactly he had come outside to find her, before he remembered himself and offered her the invite, now slightly crumpled from his big hand. “We have been invited to a ball. Our first event as a married couple.”
Alexandra read through the invite. “Lord Phillips. Do you know him?”
“Fairly well. He’s a decent lad, friendly and sincere.”
“Then I’m sure we shall have a lovely time.”
