“Your Grace? Mrs. Talley and Cook are waiting.”
She told him to stay and motioned the two servants over.
“I wanted to thank all three of you. You made my short time here most welcomed. I know how hard you worked to make my wedding a memorable one. I appreciate it more than I can say.”
She saw tears glimmering in Mrs. Talley’s eyes, while Cook’s tears flowed freely and she mopped them with her apron.
“It has been a pleasure to serve you, Your Grace,” Barton said with dignity. “We hope to see you in the future.”
“I will be here frequently, Barton,” she promised. With that, she looked to Linfield.
He said to the group, “Thank you all for attending our wedding and for looking after Aunt Constance and Hannah while we are away.”
He offered his arm and she took it. They went outside to the waiting carriage and her husband handed her up. He took the seat opposite her and, for a moment, Laurel felt disappointment. She squashed it and looked out the window, waving to everyone as the coach pulled away.
Once they’d left London, she asked, “How long will it take to reach Linwood?” she asked.
“Between three and four hours,” he replied, his jaw tightening.
“What is it like?”
“I don’t remember much about it,” he said rigidly.
His answer confused her. “When was the last time you were there?”
“I was eight,” he said succinctly and turned his gaze out the window.
Eight years old?
She supposed boys in society went away to school at about that age. Why had Linfield never returned?
“You went to other estates your father owned during your school holidays?” she asked, thinking it odd that he hadn’t seen the main residence in a good number of years, probably two decades or more. It struck her she had no idea even how old her husband was, much less how long he’d been the Duke of Linfield.
He continued staring out the window and said dismissively, “I don’t wish to discuss it.”
Laurel’s gut twisted. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
What had she done by agreeing to wed a stranger?