Awakening His Duchess (35 page)

Papa put his hands on his shoulders and leaned into him
until he couldn’t rock. Maman always said he shouldn’t fidget, but this was
supposed to be his riding time. The one thing he wanted to learn and no one
cared.

Finally Mazi walked off.

“Etienne, you have to understand that there was a bad
accident yesterday. Your riding lessons will come, but sometimes other things
must take precedence.”

Etienne didn’t want to know what
pressed dense
was. “Everyone has forgotten about me.”

“No, we haven’t.” Papa crouched down in front of him the
same way Mazi had. “I assure you we think about you all the time, but you and
I, we have duties to the people who work for us and really to all the people in
England. Sometimes others need your mother, too.”

He didn’t remember it being that way in Saint-Domingue. Ever
since they’d come here, Grandpere talked about duty, his mother talked about
duty, and now his papa talked about duty. “I don’t like all this duty.”

Papa smiled. “I know. My brothers and I hated it very much
at your age, but you’ll see it is not always such a bad thing.”

But it was a bad thing. And part of duty meant he had to
show a stiff upper lip and not complain. Etienne tried so hard to do that, but
it still wasn’t fair. And everything seemed so tilted and off. Even Grandpere
had told him to run along because he wasn’t feeling well after supper last
night. Grandpere never made him go away before.

“And we have the power to change the world, so we must
always work to change it for the better for everyone.” He chucked him on the
chin. “But this is stuff for another day. For now we will ride.”

But after he mounted Daisy his papa stopped to talk to the
stable master before mounting his own horse. He knew what had happened. Since
his papa came home, he just wasn’t important anymore. Even Maman wasn’t
herself. She hadn’t once told him he was a good boy since his papa came home.
She used to tell him that every day and never let him go to bed without saying
goodnight to him. What was the point in being good if no one noticed? And if
they didn’t care about what happened to him, he wasn’t going to tell them.

Chapter Nineteen

Beau watched from his horse as Etienne strode away toward the
castle, an unnatural stiffness in his gait and his little fists clenched at his
side.

Beau sighed and dismounted. Had he sulked so as a boy? Was
he asking too much understanding of Etienne at his age? Striking the right
balance of discipline and indulgence with his son was harder than he expected.
But he didn’t have time to deal with Etienne now. Yvette was anxious to return
to the Fowlers, and he wanted to finish clearing the lane so the harvest could
make it to market.

Etienne would be Danvers’ problem for the next few hours.

The curricle he’d requested was ready for him, and he had to
collect Yvette. She’d said she could walk, but he promised to drive her to the
Fowlers. Even though he’d only left her a half hour earlier, yet it seemed like
an eternity. They’d already lost so much time, he didn’t want to waste a single
minute of time they could spend together.

He pulled the vehicle around to the front. Yvette descended
the steps, her black case in hand. He climbed down to hand her in.

After he stowed her case in the back he came around to see
her rubbing her arms.

“Stand a minute,” he said as he climbed in.

She did as he directed, looking confused. He lifted the
seat, opening the storage compartment.

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t know that was there.”

“The hinges are on the inside to avoid snagging clothing.”
He removed a carriage robe. “This should keep you warm.”

A slight smile crossed her lips. He felt it low in his gut.
The things he would do to be rewarded with her smile. It hit him that he’d
rarely seen it, and the few times he had they’d been alone. She didn’t smile at
the dinner table, she didn’t smile when talking to the duke. How had he been so
obtuse?

He reached around her but realized he wouldn’t be able to
hold the reins if he held her too since she was sitting on his left side. He
could insist they switch positions, but instead he said, “Do you drive?”

She shook her head.

“You should learn. Take the reins.”

“I don’t need to know,” she said.

“Yes, you do.” He thrust the reins toward her, and if she
noticed that his hand did not completely close around them, she said nothing.
“Besides, how can I drive when I only want to watch you?”

She stared at the strips of leather in his hand.

He sighed and held out his right hand. Just as her fear of
exposing her vulnerabilities had frustrated him, he had to open up to her, stop
trying to hide his imperfections and trust she would accept him as he was.
“This hand will not close all the way around something as slim as a leather
strap. And I should like to put my arm around you, but I can’t and hold the
reins.”

“But you drove yesterday.” Her dark eyes narrowed at the
horse’s rump. “If I go to the village, I take the carriage.”

Perhaps she truly was afraid of horses, but she’d be less
afraid if she were confident in her ability to manage them.

“Please, Yvette. We need only let the horse walk, but if
ever you need to reach someone fast, taking the curricle will be quicker than
walking. Even with taking the time to have them harnessed.” He pressed a kiss
to her temple and her dark curls brushed his face. “There will not be a better
time to learn, and I would prefer you know.”

He held his breath waiting to see if that would motivate her
to try. She pressed her cherry lips together and took the reins from his hand.

He held back his smile as he talked her through how much
tension to keep on the horse’s mouth and how to snap the leather to start the
horse. He studied her furrowed brow as she concentrated intently on the horse.
“You are quieter than you used to be,” he observed.

“Henri did not like idle chatter,” she answered.

What man did? But still Beau frowned. The reminder of the
man who’d been with Yvette for his years of slavery was like a shot to the gut.
The burn in his stomach dismayed him, though. There was no point in being
jealous of a dead man. Still he felt the tension in her shoulders as if she
either feared his response or...

How had she fared during her years as Henri’s wife? “Did the
man treat you well?”

“I do not speak about Saint-Domingue,” she said stiffly.

He sighed. It was a barrier thrown up between them,
surprising since he had just shared his limitations. But he hadn’t always been
forthcoming and it had cost them both. His need for her to choose him without
knowing the wealth of his family had created larger problems for them both. If
she wasn’t ready to open up to him about the nine years they had been apart, he
needed to try a different tack.

He pulled his arm from around her and rubbed his weaker
hand. “Etienne was quite put out with me this morning.”

“Because you were late?”

The reminder of why he’d been late shot heat through him. “I
wanted to tell him I would make time this afternoon to ride with him, but I did
not want to reward him for being just short of rude.” She had more experience
at parenting Etienne. Perhaps she could guide him if he was handling Etienne
badly.

She cast a quick glance in his direction.

He had a sudden thought that she might take his disclosure
as criticism. “He is a well behaved boy, but perhaps he has a little bit of my
contrariness.”

“I imagine you and your father had many battles.”

“Too many,” agreed Beau. “He is constantly bristling, sure
that we are about to exchange words. It gives me pause to know what my father
must have gone through. But I do not want to make the same mistakes he made
with me. I do not want to drive away my son.”

“You won’t,” she reassured. “Since you have returned,
Etienne has seemed more like you than ever before. But I do not see this as a
bad thing.”

“Is it a good thing?” He studied her face, but she was so
focused on driving he wasn’t sure if her look was just concentration or
consternation.

She lifted one shoulder.

They reached the turn at the end of the drive.

“What do I do now?” she asked.

He put his hands around hers and guided them through the
opening in the stone wall. “See? It is not so hard. You are doing well.”

“Is it not unusual for a man to allow a woman to drive him
about?” she asked.

He tightened. “Yes, but there are times when it is to my
advantage to let you have the reins.”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and heat
plunged through him.

He hadn’t actually been referring to this morning, but it
gave him a reprieve of sorts. He smiled and ran his hand over her arm. “See? It
allows me the freedom to touch you.”

She smiled and it stole his breath.

For a half second he wished nothing more than devoting the
rest of his hours to making her smile, making her melt, or making her come.
“You really are beautiful, sugar.”

But then they were nearing the cottages and he directed her
to stop the curricle and put on the brake then secure the reins. He had to get
back to being the heir to the duchy and the man to whom eventually all the
tenants would be beholden. He had to maintain a certain amount of dignity and
not be making eyes at his wife.

“Etienne has been perhaps too well behaved—if there is such
a thing. He should be free to be just a little boy around you. You are good for
him.”

He startled. Her praise was unexpected even as it spread warmth
through him. But the real question, was he good for her?

 
*~*~*

They had barely returned and entered the castle when Beau
was summoned to the library. He rolled his eyes and entered the room off the
great hall while Yvette peeled her gloves away from her fingers and handed them
to a nearby footman.

Beau and Mazi had finished clearing the elm from the lane
and cut it into chunks so the others could break it down further to use for
firewood, then the two of them had joined the workers in the fields, swinging
scythes like the rest of the men.

She had spent the day with Thomas and his family. The boy
was in a lot of pain and wanted to thrash about, but that was so much better
than the condition she expected. She was happy to sit with him so his mother
could tend her other children and her household.

“What in the bloody hell are you doing, working as a
laborer?” The duke’s voice boomed out of the library and echoed in the great
hall.

She winced and the footman cringed although he tried hard
not to show it.

“I am just helping the men out because they lost so much
time yesterday with the fallen tree,” Beau answered calmly. “They need to get
the harvest in. It is turning cold so fast.”

Yvette wanted to do anything but intercede, but perhaps her
presence would keep the duke civil if nothing else. She followed Beau into the
library.

“There are things that need attention around the estate.
Either I or we both need to see to them,” said Beau.

“Have you no sense of station? No decorum?” The duke’s face
was red as he tried to rise out of the Bath chair.

“Please, your grace, I beg of you not to strain yourself.”
Yvette moved forward.

The duke shook, apparently too weak to manage to stand
although he’d been able to stand yesterday when he moved to sit at the head of
the table at dinner. Yvette took a step toward him.

“How does it harm my position to be willing to lend my back
to help?” Beau asked with deadly calm.

The duke toppled. Beau caught his father and steered him
back to his chair, very nearly tumbling too.

She put a steadying hand on Beau’s back, but then she
noticed the duke’s skin was an odd ash gray and he shivered although his chair
was close to the fire. Was he ill? She reached down to take one of the duke’s
hands when she noticed white marks on his nails. She flipped his hand over.
Black spots dotted his palms. Her throat tightened and her hands went cold.

He wrenched his hand away and folded his hands as if her
scrutiny bothered him, but she was too concerned to care.

Black spots weren’t good.

“I mean no dishonor to you, your grace, but if work needs to
be done, I do not consider myself so high above any man I cannot share the
load,” said Beau.

“Beau,” whispered Yvette. She firmly gripped the duke’s hand
and examined the discolorations.

Beau turned and she could see the frustration and anger in
his expression but also the anguish.

She shook her head. “Something is wrong with him,” she
whispered.

Beau blanched.

“Are you feeling unwell, your grace?” she asked, examining
him closer.

“I feel a megrim coming on.”

His hair was thinning, which was not so unusual in a man his
age, but more of the black spots dotted his scalp. The odd thing was his
illness bore a similarity to the illness that carried away so many of her
father’s slaves back in Saint-Domingue.

 
But how could that
be? Had Beau returned with some contagion? She looked around the library and
nothing seemed out of the ordinary. A half-smoked cigar rested in a dish on his
desk. The fire burned in the fireplace. His desk was scattered with papers as
if he’d been working.

Beau coughed and turned away to stub out the still smoking
cigar.

“Ring for his valet and footmen. He needs to be in bed.” She
searched her mind for anything that had alleviated the slaves’ suffering when
they had been similarly afflicted. Back then she had been able to do nothing,
but she knew more now. She’d read more books, consulted more herbalists, had
long conversations with a vodou woman back in Saint-Domingue trying to learn
how to cure people.