Page 17 of Her Tiger of a Duke
“If you are certain, but I was rather looking forward to tasting what you make. From what your friends told me at our wedding you are very talented. They claimed you also bake often. One friend in particular raved about how she had yet to hold a tea that you did not bring something to.”
She knew that her cheeks were scarlet, and raising the back of her hand to one she felt the warmth coming from it. She had not expected her friends to speak about her in that way, but then it was the only thing of interest that one could say about her.
“Beatrice, I have made it clear that I find your passion interesting, and I want to encourage it.” He leaned toward her. “Why do you seem so embarrassed by this conversation?””
“Because I do not know you,” she replied without thinking. “It is all well and good that you think that I can trust you, and I would very much like to believe you, but you are a man who went from marrying one lady to another in the blink of an eye and did not flinch. Pardon my lack of enthusiasm, but I will need some time to comprehend that.”
He faltered, and she was apologetic at once. He did not deserve it; he was being kind to her as well as he could, and he was not a bad man, but something about him made her feel uncertain. He wastookind, too understanding of everyone, and to Beatrice that could only mean that he had something to hide.
“I understand.”
“Stop understanding!” she snapped.
Silence fell for a moment, and then he chuckled. Beatrice laughed softly too at the absurdity of her request. She was out of sorts, and she had been for a while. Watching her friends fall in love and marry one by one while she sat on the shelf unwanted had affected her far more than she dared to admit, even if she was now also a wife.
“You will come to like it here,” he assured her. “It is not ideal, I know, but I saw how your father– I saw how you were living before. This will be better, I promise.”
Beatrice wondered just how much he had deduced from his brief meeting with her father. Lord Jennings had never been one to pretend he held affection for his daughter, for she had never, in his eyes, warranted it. She was a disappointment, the daughter who could have been great but never was, and marrying a duke hardly changed that.
She left for her tour after breakfast, Mrs. Forsythe looking eager to begin. They toured the grounds first, Beatrice silent as everything was explained to her. She did not know what to say, for it was impossible to mention any of the plants without explaining that she already knew all about them, having listened to Dorothy talk about them as often as she did.
The gardens were beautiful, though, and immaculately maintained. There came a point, however, where the grasswas no longer cut in spite of there being no fencing. Beatrice narrowed her eyes at it, as though it would help her understand.
“Why is that part not cared for?” she asked. “There, by the trees. It is all overgrown.”
Mrs. Forsythe quietened, looking at it sadly.
“His Grace prefers it this way,” she said simply. “It has not been touched since he inherited the dukedom.”
“But it would make an excellent walk. I do enjoy walking through forests.”
“I would not recommend it. Nor would I suggest mentioning it to him. He is very particular about his land.”
Beatrice nodded, and they continued, but she could not stop herself from thinking about the sole patch of land that was untended.
Upon returning to the manor, they turned their attentions to the household itself, and Beatrice knew that it would be weeks before she had memorized it all. Not only was the estate large, but the rooms were not arranged in a simple manner. With it being so old, it was clear that rooms had been added on every hundred years or so, leading to a very strange layout.
However, even though it was difficult to understand, Beatrice liked it. There was a quirkiness to it that most places did not have, and she found it fascinating.
“Might there be any records of the changes made?” she asked as they entered their fourth hidden doorway. “I assume that there would have been plans and notes made, at the very least.”
“There are likely some somewhere, but I have never seen them. Do you like history, Your Grace?”
“In a sense. It is not my favorite thing to learn, but when it is something as personal as one’s home or their life, it piques my interest. Knowing how this household came to be is no exception.”
“Then I shall tell you what I can.”
They walked through the rooms, Mrs. Forsythe now more interested in telling her about when it was built than what each room was for. The building had been constructed in the Medieval period and then extended by each person who inherited it. It was a tradition, something that continued even when the first family left it.
At once, ideas swarmed Beatrice’s mind about what she would like to do with it. An extension, a room that was theirs to choose could be anything, and while it was a most inviting chance, it was also monumental. Whatever they built would be there for a very long time, which meant that she had to get it right.
“Did the late Duke build anything?” she asked, and Mrs. Forsythe nodded.
“He wanted a second ballroom,” she explained. “It was the grandest change of late the workers said. Of course, the foreman on the crew would know best. His family has always worked on the property and made alterations. Their family has always worked with the house of Pantheris.”
“Everyone is connected. It is a lovely thought.”
The housekeeper agreed, and soon the tour came to an end. When Mrs. Forsythe left to continue her duties, Beatrice wished that she had asked more questions about the Duke himself, as well as the family, but she was pleased enough. At last, there was something for her to do with herself. She would discuss the mark that they would leave on the household with Owen, and then they would embark on this new project together.
