Duchess by Chance (3 page)

“The…the...uh, the Duke has eaten already?”

“He had a tray in his room, your Grace.”

“Oh, well then, I’ll just have tea and toast, if you please, Luton.” Eva wasn’t sure, but she thought Luton tsked as he left the room.
 

“Your breakfast, your Grace,” Luton said a while later.

“Tea and toast, Luton?” Eva queried, looking at the plate piled high with ham and eggs. A small basket held toast and muffins and the pot of tea would have served at least ten people.

“Mrs. Stimpel does not often have someone to cook for, your Grace,” was all Luton said before he left the room.

Eva, who had never been a fast eater, took nearly forty minutes to finish the meal. Staggering out of her chair and feeling stuffed to her toes, she then asked Luton to take her to the kitchen where she would tackle Mrs. Stimpel first.

“If you will wait in the lemon parlor, your Grace, I will have Mrs. Stimpel brought to you.”

“That is not necessary, Luton - I am more than happy to go to her,” Eva skirted around the butler to head off in what she hoped was the correct direction.
 

She smelt the kitchen before it came into view. The sweet scent of spices tickled her nostrils as she walked into the heated room. She found the cook - a small, stout woman - scrubbing vegetables in a tub of water. Beside her, drinking tea and eating a large wedge of fruitcake, was an older lady, her grey hair scraped into a neat bun.

“Mrs. Stimpel?”

“Yes, I’m Hepitatia Stimpel,” the cook said. “And who are you?”

“The Duchess of Stratton,” Eva said, holding herself very still as the cook looked up.

Silence filled the kitchen as color came and went from Mrs. Stimpel’s cheeks. She lifted her hands out of the water and hastily wiped them on her apron. “Please, your Grace, accept my apologies. I…I was not aware… I mean, you should have sent for me, your Grace. Tis not right for you to be down here.”

Eva smiled as the woman hastened toward her. “Please, Mrs. Stimpel, do not concern yourself. We have not yet been introduced, therefore you did not know my identity.”
And I do not look like a Duchess
, Eva thought, looking down at her worn grey dress and faded leather boots. Her toes had made small, white marks in the black leather as she had grown. “I merely wished to discuss menus and meal sizes.”

“Your Grace,” the other lady said as she, too, came forward to meet Eva, “I am the housekeeper, Miss Sullivan.”

“I hope you were not displeased with the breakfast, your Grace?” Mrs. Stimpel rushed in.
 

“Oh, no,” Eva quickly said, looking at the horrified expression on the cook’s face. “The breakfast was wonderful and the eggs lighter than any I have tasted. However I do not have extravagant tastes and although my appetite is healthy, I would be happy with smaller meals.”

“Smaller meals, your Grace?”
 

“Yes, Mrs. Stimpel, smaller meals. And once the Duke has left, I would be happy with simple fare,” she added.

“Simple fare, your Grace?” The cook appeared confused at the concept.

How did one explain simple fare Eva wondered, having eaten it her entire life. Waving her hand vaguely, she said. “We will discuss my needs once the duke has left, Mrs. Stimpel. For now I would just like you to know that I do not eat a large amount of food. Therefore I have no wish to sit down to a meal the size of the wonderful but large breakfast you served me today.”

“Of course, your Grace,” the cook said, lowering her eyes and bobbing into a curtsy.

Next, Eva talked briefly to the housekeeper, assuring her that until she found her feet she was happy to leave things as they were.
 

Feeling a flush of elation as she left the kitchens over her success with the cook and housekeeper, Eva thought maybe she could establish a civilized relationship with her husband. Surely he would not get angry with her for approaching him? Throwing back her shoulders, she asked directions to his study and before long was knocking on the solid wooden door.

“Enter!”

Eva nearly ran as he roared out that single word, but instead, she gripped the handle and opened the door.

He rose slowly as she entered and, dear Lord, if possible his scowl had grown more menacing since yesterday.

“Good morning, your Grace.”

“You require something, Duchess?”

Eva forged on even though his tone did not suggest she should. “Would you care to take tea with me, your Grace?”

She stood very still while his slate-grey eyes ran over her. He looked like an angry beast that had been disturbed in his lair. His hair stood off his head, a shadow marked his jaw, which suggested he was in dire need of a shave, and his clothes appeared so rumpled, Eva wondered if he had, in fact, slept in them.

“Please accept my apologies, Duchess, but I have no time for tea this morning.”

Eva bit her lip as he held her gaze for several long-drawn-out seconds. His grey eyes were piercing in their intensity and she wanted to shuffle from one foot to the other like a child. Yet she was made of sterner stuff; she held herself still and waited.

“I will be leaving for London as soon as my work here is complete and I would like to reach there by the end of the week. Therefore I have little time for…tea.”

She winced at his precise pronunciation of the word; there was little doubt in her mind he found her request ridiculous.
 

“Is everything to your satisfaction, Duchess?”

“Pardon, your Grace?”

“Is everything here at Stratton to your satisfaction?” Eva watched as he unclenched his fists and braced them on the desk before him, his eyes steady and unwavering as they studied her.

“Yes thank you, your Grace.”

“Excellent. Well, if that is all, Duchess, I really must return to my work.”
 

Eva dropped into a curtsy and quickly turned to leave the room.
 

“Do you ride?”

Gripping the door handle, she nodded but did not face him after he asked the quesiton.
 

“I have a grey mare that will suit your needs and will instruct my staff to show you the best paths to ride when you are ready.”

“Thank you but I do not want to put you to any trouble, your Grace.”

Eva wasn’t sure but thought he sighed.

“This will be your home, Duchess, I think in time you will wish to explore it.”

Eve heard the impatience in his voice and reluctantly turned back to face him.

“Of course, thank you again. She waited to see if he said anything further and when he did not she bobbed her head and quickly left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

CHAPTER TWO

Sinking into the chair, Daniel stared at the door. The anger in him was so close to the surface, he feared one wrong word or action from someone would see it unleashed. He would be just like his father then.

The old duke had raised his son using discipline. No matter the situation, if he felt Daniel needed whipping, he undertook the punishment with relish. Daniel had learnt to keep out of his father’s way, yet he’d never learnt to be submissive when the punishment was being meted out. He had taunted his father, smiling through his pain, enraging him further until one day his mother had tried to intervene.
 

Closing his eyes he let the memories come; perhaps the pain would keep his anger in check.

The late Duchess of Stratton had meant everything to her son. Daniel had loved her from his first breath. She was beautiful, kind and loving - everything her husband was not. He remembered the day his father had dragged him into his study after he had broken a vase, demanding an apology that at twelve years of age, Daniel had already been strong enough to refuse. His father had flown into a rage, and then, bending Daniel over, he had begun to whip him. Only this time he didn’t stop.
 

Hearing his cries, the Duchess had burst into the room, demanding he stop whipping her son. The duke had stopped, but only long enough to turn the birch on his wife. Daniel had screamed and tried to stop the punishment but he had been pushed aside and by the time he regained his feet his mother had fallen and hit her head. She had never regained consciousness.
 

He never spoke to his father again and after the funeral, Daniel was sent away to school, where he learned to tuck his grief and anger deep inside him. It had stayed there until now.
 

He needed to leave Stratton soon before he took his anger out on the woman who was now his wife. Only then would she be safe.

…

Eva explored her new home thoroughly over the next week, making sure that in doing so she kept away from the duke’s study. She found many a parlor and room filled with sheet-covered furniture. Most were lovely old pieces that simply needed a good polish. Many of the drab, faded curtains and carpets, however, needed replacing. Eva decided she would talk to the housekeeper and together they would take an inventory of everything and then decide how best to tackle the problem of restoring her new home to its original beauty.
   

The only glimpse she had of the duke was from her window seat one morning. He had walked beneath on his way toward the stables. She could tell he was still angry because he had swiped his riding crop at a poor, hapless rose bush, sending a flurry of petals and leaves in all directions. Eva observed his long strides and tall muscular form. He was a man who drew a woman’s eye, a man many would long to wed. Something inside her believed he was not like her father and ready with his fists, yet Eva was not about to place herself in his path to test that theory.

For once in her life she was left to do exactly as she wanted, exactly when she wanted to do it. She was sure in time that would get lonely, but for now Eva reveled in her newfound freedom and when she stumbled across the music room high up on the third floor she thought her happiness, for now, was complete. Eva wondered who had played. The old Duke, perhaps, or maybe his wife?

Daniel tensed when he heard the first strains of music. Opening the door, he listened as the sweet melody filled the empty halls of his home. The last person to touch those keys had been his mother. It had to be his wife; no one else but he played and he had not sat at a piano for many years. He was amazed at how good she was; it seemed her horrible father had at least allowed her some joy. Leaving the door open, he walked back to his desk. Re-seating himself, Daniel picked up another piece of paper from the pile his steward had left him and began to make notes.

He would finish his duties this evening and then go the Duchess’s room to consummate the marriage. Dear God, when had he approached a women’s bed with such trepidation? Had it not been a stipulation of the contract, he wouldn’t have contemplated the act, but it was, and therefore he’d fulfill his side of the obligation no matter how much he disliked the idea.

A knock sounded on his door minutes later and Daniel scowled at Luton as he moved to stand before his desk, his face set in its usual pleasant mask.

“Will you and the duchess be dining in the main dining hall this evening or shall I have the small parlor prepared?”

What the hell was the old reprobate up to? Luton surely knew by now Daniel had no wish to dine with his wife. “I will have a tray in here again, please.”

The butler’s expression remained unchanged and the two men silently stared at each other.
 

“What, damn you?” Daniel thundered after several long seconds, and to his credit, Luton never so much as twitched.

“It will take but a moment to prepare the small parlor and Mrs. Stimpel has baked your favorite apple dumplings.”

Not many men took Daniel on head to head, yet Luton had challenged him for as long as could remember.

“I have no wish to eat with my wife, Luton, and I would ask you to remember who is now master of this household.”

“I believe Mrs. Stimpel has also prepared the beef exactly as you like it with a rich burgundy sauce,” Luton continued, undaunted.

“And yet I have no wish to dine with my wife,” Daniel reiterated.

“Your grandmother would be saddened, your Grace.” Luton bowed deeply. “Your wife will be dining in the small dining room if you should have a change of mind.”

Luton always dragged Daniel’s grandmother into any argument he wasn’t winning. “I will not change my mind.” He dismissed his butler with another hard look.

As the day progressed, visions of his wife having her evening meal on her own filtered through Daniel’s head, until by nightfall they were a permanent fixture. Why he should feel guilt over his wife eating a solitary meal, he had no idea. Many married people did not eat together. In fact, they often lived separate lives and surely other marriages had not started with such tumultuous beginnings as his.