Page 55 of The Duke of Kisses
“Of course they are. They are above us mortals—above the law, even. Don’t you remember Uncle George?”
Fanny tried to recall… And then suddenly did. “You mean my great-uncle?”
“Yes. He was a footman in a great house. They accused him of something terrible, and he disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again.” Her lip curled. “Your grandfather was devastated, as was your father.”
She’d never known the story, just that her great-uncle had disappeared. Then her parents had invariably lowered their voices to angry whispers. “You think they did something to Uncle George?”
“I know they did. He and the earl’s daughter fell in love and eloped.”
“They did?” Her footman great-uncle had run off with the daughter of an earl? “That sounds so romantic.”
Her mother’s eyes turned the color of the pond in winter. “It wasfoolish. The earl and his family hated your Uncle George. He never should have run off with the girl, regardless of how they felt about one another.” Her shoulders twitched as she scoffed. “They defied her family—they defiedreason.”
It still sounded romantic to Fanny. “What happened?”
“Uncle George wrote to your grandfather about their marriage, but when we never heard from him again, your grandfather became worried. He wrote to the earl to ask after Uncle George and his wife, but his letters were ignored. Then he went to speak with the earl, who told him George’s wife had died and George had left the country. Your grandfather didn’t believe him. George wouldn’t have left England without telling his brother. So your grandfather went to the magistrate. But he refused to look into the matter.” She sniffed in indignation. “They won’t interfere when a powerful, wealthy family is involved.”
This was why her parents hated nobility. It was probably best she didn’t have a future with David. Her parents would have loathed the union as much as they loathed Ivy’s. Not that she and David would have ended up married. The space between them had never felt more vast. He was an earl, and she was the daughter of a cabinetmaker and the grand-niece of a footman who’d been a victim of power and privilege.
“I’ll just go for my walk,” Fanny said, starting toward the door. As she came abreast of her mother, the older woman touched her arm, startling Fanny with the contact.
“Don’t forget to come back in time to see Mr. Duckworth. Your father will be furious if you don’t.”
Fanny didn’t particularly care how her father felt, but also acknowledged it was easier to just meet the man. She certainly wasn’t going to agree to anything else. “I will.”
Mother dropped her hand. “If you want your sketchbook, I left it in the kitchen.”
“You didn’t give it to Jacob?”
“I thought about it, but no. Please keep it in your room. You know how I like the house to look.”
“Yes, Mother.” Fanny went to the door.
“And Fanny?”
She turned and blinked.
“I am happy to have you home. I missed you while you were gone.”
Fanny appreciated the sentiment. She knew her mother—and her father—loved her. It had just become difficult to remember that knowing all she did now about how they’d treated Ivy. “Thank you.”
“Just remember where you came from and what’s really important. There’s nothing wrong with a simple, meaningful life. You don’t need a title or expensive clothing or to go to London to be happy.”
No, she didn’t. She just wanted to feel like she belonged.
Fanny walked to the back of the house into the kitchen where the cook was preparing dinner for later. Hard of hearing, she merely nodded at Fanny, who smiled in return.
The sketchbook sat at the edge of a worktable near the pantry. Fanny plucked it up and hurried outside into the kitchen garden.
A soft breeze stirred the ribbons of her bonnet, reminding her that she hadn’t tied them. She didn’t bother now either but continued on her way out of the garden toward a path that would follow the cow enclosure until it veered through a thicket.
Her thoughts were filled with her mother’s harsh words as well as her endorsement of Mr. Duckworth. She and her father would do their best to work a match between Fanny and the man she’d already said she didn’t wish to marry.
Ten minutes later, she made her way down a gently rolling hill, which reminded her of the first time she’d met David. When she’d slipped on the snow and tumbled over herself into an embarrassing heap.
She passed through a narrow gap in the hedgerow and came upon the pond, her small, private space partly nestled beneath the shade of a massive willow tree. It had been Ivy’s space too. She used to bring Fanny here when she was very young and read her stories. They would dip their toes into the water and chase butterflies.
The pair of ducks she’d seen yesterday were nowhere in sight, but in their place was a pintail duck guiding her ducklings. Smiling, Fanny walked to the edge of the pond. “Well, aren’t you the sweetest things?”
“Pardon me if I take issue with that.”
Fanny swung around at the sound of the familiar voice. Standing near a tree was the man she couldn’t marry.
