Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The next few days were occupied almost solely with repairing the village.
Aurelia accompanied Sebastian wherever he went, a constant companion that he found almost—oddly—welcome.
She was a hard worker, never complaining even when she stood for hours helping serve soup and broth to the villagers.
Whenever Sebastian glanced back to see how she was being received, he always saw her in conversation. Beaming, animated, laughing.
To think he had married a woman who would match him in this.
It was almost enough to contemplate keeping her around. But that had never been part of the plan—and worse, if he kept her around, he might start having stronger feelings for her than the affection and desire he currently experienced.
He could not afford to love another person. Once had almost been enough to break him—and it had killed her.
Even if a large part of him wanted to have her stay.
They paused for lunch on the clifftop overlooking the sea. Below them, in the cradle of the cliffs, the villagers worked to rebuild. But here, the wind in his hair, Sebastian felt free.
Aurelia came to sit beside him, her nose red-tipped from the chill and her eyes bright from exertion. “It’s beautiful out here,” she breathed, coming to sit beside him. “I never truly appreciated quite how beautiful until now, I think.”
“It gets still more beautiful in summer.”
“And in winter?”
How many winters would she see here? Once she got with child, he would find a new place for her, and visit her only when the babe was due. There was no guarantee she would see even a single winter.
“Not beautiful,” he forced himself to say. “More… stark.”
“But you like it here.” It wasn’t a question.
He nodded, peeling a boiled egg and dipping it into his mouth. Today, he had asked for simple fare that he could easily pack and share with the villagers, and although Cook had grumbled, he had come through.
“It’s peaceful,” he murmured, struggling to find the precise words to explain how he felt about the area. “I grew up here—this is my home, and I believe if you must stay somewhere, you ought to find things about it to love.”
“Is that why you visit the lighthouse?”
“In part.” The other part being that was where Kate had gone.
Of course, he didn’t go there so he could think of her, or some kind of guilty pilgrimage as he had alluded to earlier.
But he had done so for such a long time, looking out over the sea in case she miraculously returned alive some day—that it felt natural now.
It was such a symbol of strength. Bitterly ironic, really, that it was where Kate had quite possibly lost her life.
Aurelia wrapped her arms around her legs, hair whipping about her face.
She looked incredibly beautiful here in a bucolic sort of way, her dress simple and her hair in a braid, pulled back from her face.
If he hadn’t married her and made her a duchess, she could have fit in here at the village. An ordinary man’s unordinary wife.
“We should come here more often,” she suggested softly.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “And why is that?”
“Because it makes you happy. And I want to do the things that make you happy.”
He went very still. For a moment, he simply stared at her. Before he could respond, some of the villagers, led by his own valet, joined them at the top of the cliff.
“Good morning for it!” one of the men—Mr. Qualley—exclaimed, pulling out his own dinner. A large pie, filled with meat and potatoes and onions, feasted on by many of the men here during the day.
“Your Grace,” another lanky man chimed, tipping his cap respectfully at Sebastian. “Your Grace.” Now he did the same to Aurelia.
No matter the fact that they had been married for some time, and thus she had been a duchess for a while now, Sebastian still saw her blink in surprise that she was being addressed that way, and with such deference.
“We appreciate you coming out here and helping us,” Mr. Qualley added. “My wife’s been singing your praises too, Your Grace.” He looked at Aurelia. “Puts us in mind of how we can repay you.”
“Oh, there’s no need!” Aurelia smiled with one eye squinted against the wind before Sebastian could say a thing. “Is there, Sebastian? We are here because we want to be. Misfortune does not discriminate.”
Mr. Qualley nodded, chewing slowly. “Strikes me there’s been a tree down on your property. Saw it when we were there last. Knocked down a wall.”
Sebastian nodded. “That’s right.”
“Once the critical work here is done, we’ll come by and repair it, won’t we, lads?”
The other men nodded enthusiastically.
“Mr. Gallop over there has experience with brick walls. His dad was a bricklayer, and he’s built walls half his life. Reckon he could get the thing done for you however you’d like. Isn’t that right, Gully?”
“Aye.” The man indicated gave an awkward sitting bow, his ruddy face flushed from the attention. “Me old man taught me well, and I have experience, Your Grace. It would be done for free, mind. You scratch our back, we scratch yours.”
Aurelia turned to Sebastian with a delighted expression on her face. “Oh, just think!” And he knew she wasn’t just referring to having the wall repaired. He had gone so far in repairing the relationship with the villagers that they had offered to help him—and enthusiastically.
So much had changed.
And Aurelia was right there celebrating the change with him, her pretty hair tossing in the wind, looking both pleased with herself and the world.
Would this have happened if it weren’t for her?
The storm certainly would have, and he liked to think he would have rushed out to help just as he had done this time.
But he couldn’t know for sure if a world not worth fighting for was one he would be so desperately striving to save.
“Thank you,” he said to Qualley and Gallop. “I would be honored.”
Aurelia had all but finished helping out at the village when a carriage arrived on the main street. Upon seeing her, it stopped, and the door opened, revealing Lady Mary Ann and her father.
“My word…” she gasped, looking Aurelia up and down. “You look as though you have been in the mines all day, sweetie!”
Aurelia wiped the back of her hand across her face. “You exaggerate.”
“Perhaps, but you do look awful, dearest.” Mary Ann grimaced.
“I heard from the servants that the village is in a sorry state, and so I had to see for myself, see if there’s anything I can do.
Father’s in there,”—she jerked her thumb at the carriage—“can hardly walk, but claimed he ought to at least be present out of respect.”
“The conditions are still not wonderful underfoot,” Aurelia sighed.
Mary Ann took Aurelia’s hand and squeezed. “Have you been helping all day?”
“I have. They need our help.”
For a moment, Mary Ann hesitated, and Aurelia wondered if this would be a step too far.
But then she nodded, finding her resolve.
“So be it, dearest. My maid will have kittens when she sees the state of my dress, but better that than anything worse. I shall inform Papa that I intend to stay with you awhile.”
Aurelia beamed at her friend’s contagious enthusiasm. “Though there’s not much to do now. We are losing the light,” she gestured at the clouds. “But I’ll be here with more food tomorrow.”
“You and that handsome husband of yours?” Mary Ann winked.
Aurelia did her best not to blush—why was she inclined to blush, anyway? It wasn’t as though their connection was a secret, or that she didn’t know he was handsome. “Well, he is doing more of the heavier work, but yes.”
Mary Ann clapped her hands. “Wonderful! I, too, will instruct Cook to prepare some food we might easily hand out, and then we’ll be here bright and early.
Anything that needs doing, I can do. I’ll wear my worst pair of gloves.
” She gave a small laugh. “Imagine, next year, when I am presented and on the hunt for a husband, I will be able to tell them about the time I helped save a village.”
“I’m not sure that would endear you to him,” Aurelia said dryly. “I fear most gentlemen prefer their ladies safe in drawing rooms, wearing kid gloves and never spending more time than necessary in undesirable places.”
Mary Ann looked pointedly around the main street.
The villagers had been proactive in brushing the debris and muck from the flood away, so the cobbles were once again in view and unmarred by great piles of dirt.
All the smashed windows had been boarded up, and the bones of a very pretty village center could be seen underneath the disaster.
“If a gentleman is offended by my being in this lovely village, then I lose all faith in the institution of men,” Mary Ann said. “There could be nowhere as unobjectionable. And besides, my companion is a duchess, which naturally makes everything right.”
Aurelia knew perfectly well that she was not the most regular duchess, and she likely didn’t know how to behave according to her station—but her rank could not be denied. Let the gossip-mongers of London chew on that!
“Rumors of what we do here will almost certainly spread,” she warned, nevertheless.
For Sebastian, she considered that a good thing—the fewer people considering him a murderer, the better.
But it may not be a good thing for Lady Mary Ann; a lady rarely wanted a reputation before going to London and establishing one for herself there.
Unless, of course, it was a reputation for being the most beautiful lady in the county. Even then, those rumors very rarely made their way to London. But they were close enough to the capital that it was likely rumors here would eventually make their way to the ton if they were juicy enough.
And rumors about the unconventional Duke and Duchess of Ravenhall were almost certainly juicy enough.
Mary Ann watched her face carefully. “It seems the tide has changed for His Grace already.”
“And so,” Aurelia said determinedly, “it will continue to change.”