Page 87 of His Auctioned Duchess
Richard stood there, listening intently with his arms crossed over his chest. His face was serious and focused, as if he were deep in thought. Just as he was about to speak, Caroline leaned forward a little. Her voice was gentle but full of confidence as she spoke. "The Ashbrook flows through the eastern fields, doesn’t it?" she asked, her tone thoughtful.
The man she addressed seemed a bit surprised to be spoken to directly by her. "Aye, Your Grace," he responded, nodding his head in agreement.
"I took a walk there a few weeks ago," she continued, her eyes distant as if she was picturing the scene in her mind. "The banks look like they’ve become weaker. I think if we bolster them with stones and plant rushes along the edges, it would help. The roots of the plants can hold the soil in place. That way, it would stop more flooding from happening."
Richard turned his head to look at her, his eyebrows lifting in surprise and a bit of admiration. "You’ve taken a look at the Ashbrook?" he asked, a hint of wonder in his voice.
“I walk, Your Grace,” she said with a small smile. “I have eyes.”
A murmur of laughter rippled through the crowd, easing the tension. Richard regarded her for a long moment before nodding. “A sensible plan. See it done.”
The farmer’s relief was almost palpable. He bowed deeply, gratitude shining in his weathered face. “Bless you, Your Grace. Both of you.”
Caroline inclined her head graciously, her smile soft. When the man stepped back, others pressed forward—men and women of every age and station, each with some grievance or request. Richard listened with his usual restraint, but Caroline moved among them with a warmth he could never have mustered.
A baker sought aid for repairs after a kitchen fire. A shepherd complained of wolves taking his lambs. To each, Caroline gave her attention as though no one else existed. Her voice, calm and steady, carried clearly in the spring air.
Then came a young woman with a shawl drawn tightly about her shoulders, setting a pale child carefully down in front of her. Her eyes were red from weeping.
“Your Grace,” she began, her voice barely more than a whisper. “My son’s been taken by fever. The doctor says he cannot come—not for such a small fee.”
Before anyone had a chance to respond or say a word, Caroline swiftly knelt down on the soft grass. She didn’t pay any attention to her gown getting dirty or creased. Her focus was entirely on the little boy in front of her. Caroline gently placed her glovedhand on the boy’s hot, flushed cheek, feeling the warmth of the fever. Her brow furrowed with concern, clearly worried about the child's condition. "How long has he been like this?" she asked, her voice gentle but urgent.
The woman beside the boy sobbed, her distress evident. "Two days," she cried, her voice shaky and full of worry. "He can hardly keep any water down."
Caroline’s expression turned even more serious as she looked up quickly, her eyes locking onto Richard’s. The urgency in her gaze was unmistakable. "He needs the physician. Now," she declared with determination, leaving no room for doubt.
Richard didn’t hesitate for a second. He nodded, understanding the severity of the situation immediately. "I’ll send for Langdon," he said right away, knowing that the physician was needed urgently. Turning to his steward, he instructed with a firm voice, "Have a carriage ready. We need to be quick."
“At whose cost, Your Grace?” Alden stammered.
Caroline’s answer came before Richard’s. “At ours.”
Richard’s mouth twitched, a faint smile ghosting across his face. “Naturally,” he said.
The mother fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face. “Bless you, my lady—my lord—thank you–”
Caroline rose gracefully, squeezing the woman’s hand. “No thanks are needed. Ashwood stands for its own.”
The words carried softly but surely through the crowd, as steady as a church bell. The people murmured assent, a low tide of approval. Even those who had once whispered of the duke’s cruelty seemed to look upon him differently now, seeing him through the lens of the woman beside him.
Richard watched her quietly as the tenants began to disperse, his expression unreadable. She had accomplished in an hour what he had struggled for years to achieve: not mere obedience, but trust.
When the last of the grand carriages rolled away, disappearing down the long winding drive, Caroline remained by Richard’s side. They stood at the very edge of the stone terrace, looking out over the vastness of the estate. The evening air was cool, and it brushed gently against their faces. Caroline’s cheeks were lightly flushed, and her eyes sparkled like stars in the fading light.
"It went well," she said softly, her voice filled with a quiet satisfaction.
"It did," Richard admitted, a rare warm tone in his voice. "They’ll speak of this day for a long time to come."
Caroline turned to look at him, a smile spreading across her face, her eyes filled with a mix of joy and triumph. "You see, Richard? Fear isn’t the only way to rule," she said, her words carrying a gentle, teasing note.
He looked at her steadily, holding her gaze for a long moment. Something like pride began to rise within him, stirring beneath his usual composed exterior. "No," he said quietly, almost to himself as much as to her. "It seems love commands more."
Her laugh was gentle and sincere, the sound so soft it was almost carried away by the evening breeze. "A dangerous lesson, Your Grace," she replied with a playful sparkle in her eyes.
He smiled faintly. “The most worthwhile often are.”
CHAPTER 26
