Page 6 of Taming a Beastly Duke
As they waited for the butler to come to the door, Helena took her niece’s hand once more, giving it a gentle squeeze. She gave her aunt a grateful smile, glad for the unspoken support and knowledge that she was not alone in her exile.
The interior of the mansion was, indeed, just as strict as the outside, making Adelaide shudder. The stone walls lacked any portraits or looking glasses, there were no vases or wreaths of flowers, and the carpets and drapes were a dark, dull gray. All the matching wooden doors were closed, keeping Adelaide from noting which rooms were which. This piqued her curiosity, but her nervousness tempered her desire to peek inside the closed off rooms.
The butler led them to the drawing room, which was the liveliest of the rooms. The drapes, carpets and upholstery were dark purple, though the walls were covered with dark gray wallpaper. There was a single vase with three dark red roses on a small black table in the center of the room, around which two elegantly dressed ladies sat talking softly. The furniture, though simple, was rather lush and elegant, and Adelaide wondered if there was some softness to the duke, after all.
There was a portrait on the wall above the fireplace which Adelaide presumed must have been of the duke’s family, as well as two more with a woman and a young girl and a man and woman. There were two black bookshelves lined with books by Homer, Cicero, Voltaire, John Locke and a variety of history, Latin and Greek texts. The duke seemed to be well educated, and she wondered about the mystery surrounding his reputation. Helena had told her that he, too, had been ostracized by society for some nonsense rumors involving the death of a young lady in his charge. But what could cause a man to hide away in such a stern residence?
“Welcome, Helena,” the older of the women said, rising to greet the newly arrived pair.
Helena squeezed Adelaide’s hand once more before embracing the woman.
“Augusta, it is wonderful to see you again,” she said. “I would like you to meet my niece, Adelaide Barrett. Adelaide, this is Augusta Lockhart, the dowager duchess of Lochville, and her daughter, Edith.”
Adelaide curtseyed stiffly, holding her breath. The Lockhart family might be close with Helena, but how would they feel about having a ruined woman in their home?
The dowager duchess surveyed her for a moment before pulling her into an embrace.
“Welcome, Miss Barrett,” she said. “We are no strangers to scandal in our family. You are amongst friends now, and there is no need to be afraid.”
Adelaide’s knees felt weak with relief. She glanced at Lady Edith, who had come closer to the women during the introductions. Edith reached out and took Adelaide’s hand, patting it as gently as Helena had.
“You need not fear judgment, Miss Barrett,” she said. “Please, come join us.”
Adelaide nodded, shocked by the warm reception. Helena gave her another knowing wink as they sat between the women. Adelaide began to relaxas the women fell into an easy conversation about the trip to Lochville Manor and the pleasantness of recent weather. However, she observed the way the two Lockhart women exchanged frequent glances at one another and toward the doorway of the room, as if expecting something, or someone, to disrupt the easy atmosphere.
***
“Are you ready to join your mother and sister, Marcus?” Thomas asked.
Marcus blinked rapidly as he stared down at his desk, which he was gripping fiercely. He comprehended what his friend said, though he sounded as though he was in a long tunnel with a pillow over his face. The dizziness was overwhelming, blurring his vision and threatening to take him into unconsciousness. He had only risen from his chair, and now he was struggling to remain upright.
Thomas rushed behind the desk, putting an arm around Marcus. Marcus snarled, feigning agitation at the assistance. However, he was secretly grateful as he had truly believed he was about to collapse.
“Perhaps we should send for the physician Mr. Morrison,” Thomas said. “It appears you are worsening by the day.”
Marcus glared at his friend; his temper now truly ignited.
“I need no useless remedies from an ignorant physician,” he growled. He tried to mask the fear he felt, and he buried the instant guilt he felt for insulting the physician who had tended to his family his entire life. But Thomas, ever sensitive to Marcus’s true self, was not deterred by his anger.
“Your episodes are becoming more frequent,” Thomas said, still holding onto Marcus. “As I have noticed, they are getting increasingly worse.”
Marcus huffed, giving a twitch that, if he were stronger, would have been intended to pull away from his friend.
“It shall pass,” he said, sounding as unconvinced as he was beginning to feel. It was becoming harder with each episode to deny and hide the terror building within him. It took all his determination not to admit considering sending for the physician.
“Your Grace?” the butler said timidly, standing in the doorway of the study, hesitating.
Marcus glared up at him, giving a curt nod for him to continue.
“Lady Helena and Miss Barrett have arrived,” he announced.
Marcus growled and slammed a palm down onto his desk. He had known of the ladies’ arrival, but he was in no mood to play host to strangers right then. He glowered at the butler, who scurried away frightened, with Thomas’s sympathetic gaze following him. Marcus felt remorse, but the dizziness trumped his guilt.
“Marcus, please,” Thomas begged, pointing to Marcus’s hands. “Your condition is worsening at an alarming rate. Your skin is gray, for heaven’s sake. You are very unwell, you are more drained now than you were even five minutes ago, and I am haunted by the suspicion that there is something far more sinister than a mere illness plaguing you.”
Marcus sighed, quickly losing the energy to argue or keep up the pretense of being enraged. Yet he would not concede.
“Come, Thomas,” he muttered weakly. “We must greet our guests.”
