Page 20 of Her Tiger of a Duke
“That is because I have not,” she smiled, “but I am perfectly happy. You see, once I began reading the papers, I could not stop. There were so many of them, and each one is about a different family.”
“Ah, so you could not stop yourself?”
“Precisely. The stories were fascinating, although one thing caught my eye in particular. It was so heartbreaking.”
Owen raised an eyebrow, curious about what she had learned. To his knowledge, there had not been anything of that natureleft in the stack of parchment, but then he had only paid close attention to removing the letters and papers regarding Lydia.
“It was about some girls who lived here,” she explained. “They all passed young, having suffered from various illnesses.”
The hairs on the back of Owen’s neck stood on end.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, one died of pneumonia, another from sweating sickness, and another from the flu. It is most unsettling, and it had me unable to sleep.”
Owen was silent, clueless as to what he could possibly say. He knew the truth; that what she had seen had nothing to do with random girls from throughout the history of the household. These documents must have been about Lydia and in his haste, he had regrettably missed putting them aside.
“Fascinating,” he said at last. “In other news, we have been invited to dinner by my friend next week. I have accepted, of course.”
“How lovely,” she said with a smile. “Was he at our wedding?”
“No, he was home with his wife and children, which is what I must speak to you about. Lady Stanton is someone to be wary of, although she might be very nice to you when you meet.”
“I see. Do you not trust her yourself, or is it known to many people?”
“Most of the people she meets agree that she is a strange lady. She is highly judgmental, and she will undoubtedly say something that is meant to offend, but you must not listen to her. Her opinion means very little to me.”
He could already see that she was uncomfortable, shifting in her seat. He expected her to decline and say she preferred to skip the dinner if that was true, but she never did. Instead, she straightened, tilting her chin up.
“Very well. I am to be a duchess, and that means handling difficulties. This will be a good first task, and if all else fails I have you there.”
He admired her tenacity.
“There will also be the Dentons present, and they are lovely. Lady Denton will be a good friend to you, and if Lady Stanton says anything too unkind then she will be there to defend you. My friend likes them a good deal.”
“Then there is no question that we will go. I am rather looking forward to it, though…”
“What is it?”
“Are my dresses enough, do you think? I like them, but it might be wise for me to have one gown befitting a duchess, if I am to see a lady who is judgmental.”
It was perfectly logical, and Owen agreed to have one made for her, but there was that thought in the back of his mind again that she was going to change now that they were married. It was not an impossibility. She was already becoming more confident. He liked that, for she needed to change in that respect eventually, but it was all so quick and so sudden that he was uncertain of whether it was a good sign.
Then came the matter of Lydia, and how Beatrice already knew far too much even without being aware of it. His heart thudded, knowing that he could not keep the secrets from her forever. He had planned to wait a long time before telling her the truth, because he did not want the sympathetic looks that would follow. They always came and never left. He was seen as the man with the deceased sister by enough people, and he could not fathom the thought of his wife being one of them.
And so, he would not discuss what she had read at all, other than the simplest parts, and he would find a way to explain the many girls that she believed had died at the same age under different circumstances. Nothing came to mind immediately, but he would think of something.
If he wanted to keep his wife at arms’ length, he would have to.
CHAPTER 9
In the week that followed Beatrice’s arrival at Everthorne Hall, she found a routine for herself that she quite enjoyed.
She was awakened at eight each morning by her lady’s maid, who brought her a hot chocolate and a light breakfast, along with her correspondence. There were beautiful letters from her friends, and she placed them to one side so that she could respond later in the day. Then, she was dressed for the day ahead.
Beatrice knew that, eventually, she would need gowns in keeping with her new status, but she had not expected to have them appear seemingly overnight. To her surprise, her wardrobe was suddenly filled with them, arranged from lightest to darkest, separated by how formal they were. She gasped when she saw the lot.
“His Grace thought it prudent,” Ella explained. “He received your measurements from your mother and had them made for you.”
