Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The next few days passed in a rhapsodic haze. Alexander knew he shouldn’t be this happy, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Even knowing that it would hurt worse than ever once he told Lydia the truth, the truth about her past, he opened himself to the pain—the joy—of being with her.
If only to at least experience the highest of highs before the lowest of lows.
With every passing hour, he came to the conclusion that he could not simply leave her. Not just because she clearly relied so heavily on the prospect of him being with her as they marched into the future, but because he himself knew he did not have the strength to walk away now.
If ever he had wanted to, he should have done it before spending the day in bed with her, learning so much more about her than he had ever foreseen.
If he had ever wanted to leave, he ought to have done it before he had claimed her so utterly as his wife.
That had been his mistake, his undoing…
And perhaps the single greatest bliss of his life.
The first day they left the bedchamber, they went on a walk through the grounds of the estate. Thankfully, the rain had ceased, and they were able to stroll down the roads in the crisp winter air.
“Did you spend much time outside?” he asked her. “When you lived here?”
“A little.” She turned her face up to the pale blue sky. “My nurse would take me out for picnics when I was very little, and I used to go with my mother, too, sometimes.”
“You must have been close with her.”
“I was. In retrospect, she was what tied me to this part of the country. I was afraid of leaving, or so I thought, but really, I was just afraid of being somewhere memories of her could no longer intrude.”
He looked down at her head, a bonnet concealing her curls from him. “You know that she lives with you wherever you are, don’t you?”
“I do now,” she said with a light laugh. “But it took adulthood to come to that conclusion. And being here again.” She exhaled, her breath seeming to steam in the air. “Oh, look, who is that?”
That, it transpired, was a man Alexander vaguely recognized as being one of his tenants. He knew he ought to have spent more time learning them and caring for their needs specifically, but he had spent so much of the past few years trying to forget about this place.
“Your Grace,” the man panted as he drew closer. “I am so sorry to disturb you like this.”
“Not at all,” Alexander said, that guilt curling in his stomach as he regarded the man. What was his name? He should know. “Is something the matter?”
“Well, it’s just that the chimney stack on the cottage has fallen down. I’ve got some men on it, but we need another hand, and I was hoping you might be able to assist us in some manner or other, Your Grace.” The man tipped his tap in deference. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Your Grace.”
Lydia smiled, evidently delighted to be addressed in such a way. “The pleasure is all mine. And of course we can help. What do you say, Alexander?”
“Of course,” he nodded once. “It is the least we could do. After all, you are all my responsibility, and it’s my duty to see to your health and care in the best way possible.” He touched the brim of his hat and set off after the man. “You can return home if you’d like,” he reassured Lydia.
“Nonsense! This is my land as much as it is yours now.” She twinkled merrily up at him. “I can’t promise I’ll climb on any roofs, but I’ll be there to help out where possible.”
“I ought to apologize for being so absent,” Alexander addressed the man as he led the way. “I trust my steward has been seeing to your needs satisfactorily?”
“I have no complaints, Your Grace.”
Lydia slipped her arm trustingly through his. “No doubt you’ll mostly deal with his steward still, but I think we intend to spend more time here from now on.”
The man cast her a surprised glance. “Is that so, Your Grace?”
“We shan’t be here all the time, of course, and I expect His Grace will have business to attend to in London on occasion, but for the large part, I hope to spend a large proportion of the year here.”
Alexander wished she would stop talking. Not because she was wrong—or at least, he hoped she wasn’t wrong—but he wouldn’t know for certain until he told her the whole truth. Then, and only then, would she decide if she could bear to live with him as husband and wife together on this estate.
If not, he would leave, and everything she told this farmer now would be a lie.
“What is your primary crop?” he asked, to turn the conversation.
“Milk,” the tenant replied. “Cattle and meat. It’s tough out there. We’ve got pigs.”
“Oh, how delightful!” Lydia squeaked.
“My sow’s competing in the Wiltshire County fair,” he boomed with some pride. “I can’t know for certain she’ll win, but she’s got good pedigree behind her, and we’re feeding her up.”
“I’m sure she’s wonderful,” Lydia giggled with such genuine enthusiasm that Alexander smiled. “And we’ll have to attend, won’t we, darling?”
Alexander could have denied her nothing in that moment. “Of course. Whatever you would like.”
Lydia kicked her heels from where she sat on the fence, watching as her husband—the duke—climbed up the ladder to help repair the chimneystack. Several other burly men assisted him, and together they were moving stone as though it weighed nothing.
The cottage itself was a quaint stone building, with roses growing up the sides and the prize sow in the back garden, snuffling happily. Although it was winter, and thus very little was growing, Mrs. Thomas—the farmer’s wife—showed Lydia some seedlings she had planted in the warmth of her kitchen.
“And, of course, there’s always the cabbages,” she said.
Lydia nodded, although she rarely ate cabbage if she could help it. “Of course. What does the pig eat?”
“Anything we don’t.” The woman had laughed as she’d picked up a tea towel and hauled the cast-iron kettle off from above the fire.
So now, Lydia cradled a cup of hot tea in her hands, making sure to avoid the chip as she sipped, and whenever Alexander glanced down at her to make sure she was all right, she made sure to beam at him in response.
“You must be proud of His Grace,” Mrs. Thomas huffed, coming to stand beside Lydia, a tiny bundle of cloth in her hands. Their fifth baby, she had explained, and a delight after their last child, who had screamed like the devil for two years straight.
“Why, yes, I am,” Lydia smiled.
“His father never came down these parts, that’s for certain,” Mrs. Thomas continued. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”
“I don’t think there’s any harm in speaking ill of those who deserve it, living or dead.” Lydia chewed on her lip as she watched Alexander balancing precariously. Her heart hammered in her chest, only alleviated a little by the way he turned and winked at her.
“Aye, well, you’re probably right.” Mrs. Thomas jiggled her baby absently. “I don’t know of anyone around these parts who would say a kind word for the old duke, that’s for certain.”
Lydia frowned. “What was so bad about him?”
“He was a miser, and I don’t say that lightly, because folks round here are used to not having much in comparison to you, Your Grace, if you don’t mind me saying.
That’s the way of life, and we don’t mind it.
But if something went wrong and it was his duty to repair it, he’d send his steward down to argue on his behalf, telling us how he isn’t going to pay out of pocket to have it fixed up proper.
” She let out a sigh. “It’s a rare sight to see such a fine man getting his hands dirty. ”
Of everything Lydia knew about the former duke, this fit. A miserly man who spared nothing for the people under his care, whether his tenants or his son. Not his money, and certainly not his love.
“The duke has been absent of late,” Lydia said distractedly, still watching the way he worked, silhouetted against the sky. To everyone’s surprise, he had shed his waistcoat and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, despite the chill. Lydia cradled the waistcoat in her lap.
The man she first met in her bedchamber would never have done this.
It would take time to make him feel as though he belonged, but hope had lodged itself in her chest and would not be removed. Not that he would stay—she had already assured herself of that. He had assured her of that. But that he would come to feel as though he belonged here as deeply as she did.
“His Grace has always been kind to us, and we don’t forget that.
” Mrs. Thomas smiled, her face crinkling with the gesture.
Years of working outside, toiling in the garden and further afield, had made her look prematurely old, perhaps, but just as the sun had aged her, so had kindness brought with it a new, rare beauty.
“Thank you,” Lydia said impulsively. “I believe His Grace would be very happy to hear that.”
“Well then, you be sure to tell him, and tell him too that I’ve made pies for the boys who’ve volunteered to help us with the roof, and he’s more than welcome to one.” With that, she bustled back inside, and Lydia remained where she was.
The adage many hands make light work came true in this instance, and it wasn’t long before Alexander was striding back toward her, a smile across his face and his cheeks flushed with the exercise.
“Are you not cold?” he asked, taking both her hands in his and pressing kisses to them. “I’d expected you to wait inside.”
“And not see if you fell?” She laughed. “If you were to fall, my darling, I’d want a front-row seat.”
“I had no intention of falling.”
“One rarely does.”
His smile only widened. “Brat,” he said affectionately. “What am I to do with you?”
“Well, I hope you will have one of Mrs. Thomas’s pies, as she made them for all the men who helped out, and you may count yourself as one of them.
Then, I believe, Old Gregor is going to take us back to the house in his cart, considering the time and the weather.
” She placed her hands on his shoulders and allowed him to help her down.
“Old Gregor?” he asked with an amused huff, brows raising. “I take it you have been fully adopted into the fold.” He gestured at the workers’ cottages.
“He was kind enough to keep me company as I waited,” she chuckled softly, waving to the gap-toothed old man who had been forbidden from climbing onto the rooftop to help, but who had two donkeys and an old cart.
“To think, I’ve been here a year and never made the acquaintance of these people. I feel quite ashamed.”
“We both have a little neglect to make up for,” Alexander shrugged, running a hand through his hair and frowning.
Lydia caught his hand. “You less so. This has gone a long way to make them all adore you. I think there’s very little you could do wrong in their eyes.”
“You have a great deal of faith in me.”
“They have a great deal of faith in you. Already you are showing yourself to be different from your father, and isn’t that what you always wanted?” She brought his hand to her cheek. “You can be everything they need, Alexander.”
“And you?” he asked, searching her eyes. “What do you need?”
“I already have it.” She beamed up at him, knowing the people were staring but not caring in the slightest. If they chose to judge her for loving her husband, then so be it.
They were barely touching, even though there was a fire in her blood every time she thought about the prospect of touching him.
Or rather, allowing him to touch her.
A slow smile crept across his face. “Later, you deviant.”
“I said nothing,” she protested.
He brushed a knuckle down her cheek. “I could tell by the way you flushed.”
Laughing, she pulled free from his grasp and into the small, one-room house that Alexander had just helped repair, her heart and mind full.