Chapter Thirteen #2
He watched her for a moment as she opened yet another and read it.
She smiled so he assumed all was right. Arthur continued with his work.
He was almost at the end, and unfortunately, the storm had set in for the day.
There’d be no outdoor adventures today. Instead, he placed all the envelopes onto a silver tray to the left on his desk.
He was done except for reading a couple of letters, but they could wait until the following morning.
The longer he watched her sitting and reading, the more he wanted her. Never had a woman affected him like this, he kept telling himself. Reminding himself how lucky he had been.
She popped her head up. “I’m finished. I have heard of or have met almost everyone who wrote.”
“Good,” he replied.
“Lydia has gotten me all unpacked. All we’ll need to do is retrieve my horse and Sam.”
“I can send a groom over for the gray. We’ll see what the weather does before we get Sam.”
Daphne nodded. “Excellent.” She popped up out of the chair and rounded the desk, sliding onto Arthur’s lap. Wrapping her arms around his neck, and before he could protest, she kissed him. Any hesitation on his part was forgotten. His hands parted her thighs, and he could feel her warmth.
“Why don’t you lock the door?” Daphne suggested.
Shocked by her newfound boldness, Arthur quickly found her sweet spot which was wet for him. He ached for her, but the chair in his study wouldn’t do. After minutes of arousal, he pulled her skirt back down and put her to her feet. “We can’t.”
“Lock the door,” she replied. She pulled her skirts down and smoothed them with her hands.
“I know somewhere better. Somewhere we won’t be disturbed.”
“How can you be so sure we won’t be disturbed?”
He grinned. “Because none of the staff know of its existence.”
“I’m intrigued,” she replied with a naughty grin.
Realizing he needed to inform her of their upcoming journey to London, he approached her with the matter. “There is something else I need to talk with you about.”
“What is it?”
“I received notice from the courts informing me that the trial of Crenshaw, the man who murdered my parents, will begin at week’s end. I plan to attend because someone needs to represent my parents. I thought you’d like to come along and do some shopping when I’m occupied elsewhere.”
“Isn’t it obvious what will happen to him? He’ll be condemned to death. Why put yourself through that?”
“I’m sure he will be, but I want to be there when the sentence is read. I want him to see me when he’s led from court.”
She nodded. “I understand now. Of course I’d love to accompany you to London.”
“I thought you might,” he replied. “Until I got this notification, I thought I had blocked Crenshaw from my mind, but today it all came back to me.”
“You’re doing the right thing, Arthur. What about your sister?”
“I’m going to let her know my intentions tomorrow. We’ll leave the day after.”
Daphne took his larger hand in hers and looked him in the eyes. “I’ll inform my maid so she can pack appropriately. How long do you think we’ll be in London?”
“A fortnight. The trial, I’m sure, will be short,” he replied.
Squeezing his hand, Daphne tried to pull him toward the closed door. “Would you like to show me this mysterious hidden room?”
He began walking to the door while holding her hand. “I would. You must understand that it’s… well, you can decide for yourself.”
“How did you find out about its existence?”
“My father showed it to me when I was old enough to understand.”
They continued walking down the dark paneled hallway until they came to the main room where he led her up the stairs to the family’s private chambers.
Occasionally Daphne would ask if he knew who was in a portrait or where on the estate a scene was.
Arthur did his best to answer her. Another thing his father had taught him.
Who and where the portraits within the house were of.
There were some painted by prominent artists of their time.
His father had always said the family would never have to worry should times get hard, and that was part of the reason.
That and good money and estate managers.
Reaching their suite, Arthur opened the door and let Daphne enter first. To his chagrin, he found his valet and a couple of footmen rolling up an older rug in order to replace it with another he’d chosen. He’d forgotten he’d charged Thomas with the task.
“Your Grace. I thought today would be perfect to change this rug out. Would you like us to return at another time?”
“No, go ahead and finish what you’ve started. I’m showing the duchess around the house, so she won’t feel so lost.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. We should be finished soon.”
“Take your time. Oh, and we’re going to London day after tomorrow, if you would mind getting things ready. We’ll be gone about a fortnight.”
“Understood, Your Grace.”
Arthur peered down at his bride. “Come, my dear, let’s let them finish.”
She nodded and quit the room, along with Arthur. She burst out laughing when they were farther down the hall. “That’s not meant to be.”
“Not today,” he agreed. “Why don’t I show you the conservatory. It was one of my mother’s favorite places.”
“I’d love to see it. I understand she had quite a love of flowers.”
“She did. She worked quite closely with the gardener.”
Nodding, she followed Arthur through the house. “Where is Roddy? I expected to see him the moment we arrived.”
“That’s because, sadly, he’s begun his training. I should check and see how he’s progressing.”
“Does this mean he won’t be staying in the house?”
“I’m afraid not,” Arthur replied. “He’ll be living at the kennel from now on.”
“That’s so sad. I know how attached the dog was to you, and you seemed to enjoy his company.”
“I did.”
Arthur really didn’t want to talk about the loss of his best friend. Roddy would make an excellent hunting dog. It was what he was bred for. It would be selfish of him to deny the setter of his heritage. Still, he missed the rambunctious Roddy.
They reached the conservatory and went in. They were hit by the warmth of the room. Orchids and other tropical flowering plants thrived in the dreary English weather.
“This is amazing,” Daphne said as she turned in a circle to take in the flowers. A familiar squawk filled the room. “Sam? Is that you?” She looked at Arthur.
“Sam is bad.”
“What’s he doing here? Who moved him?”
Arthur shook his head. “I had no idea he was here.”
A moment later, Sam appeared walking across the floor, flapping his red wings. He walked straight up to the pair as they peered down at him. Daphne extended her arm, and the macaw jumped up onto his perch. She stroked his head in reassurance.
“Pretty boy, Sam. I’ve missed you,” Daphne told him.
“Bloody hell!”
“That’s not a nice thing to say, Sam,” she scolded the parrot. Turning to Arthur, she ever so slightly shook her head. “We need to find out when he arrived and who’s been looking after him.”
“How does he seem?”
“Okay, I think. I see his cage and things just over there.”
Arthur watched as his bride, bird on her arm, walked over to where a black metal cage stood with thick branches hung around it.
While she was doing that, he walked over to the bellpull to call staff.
They needed to know the who and when of Sam’s arrival.
Not knowing anything about tropical parrots, Arthur thought whoever brought him knew enough to make sure he was somewhere warm.
He joined Daphne and Sam where Sam was walking around the top of his cage. “I just rang for staff. See if we can’t get to the bottom of this.”
“Good. I would be fine if I’d known he was here, but it upsets me that no one bothered to tell us he was here. I hate he’s been alone in a strange place.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more.”
A moment later, Wilson, his butler, entered. “Is there something you require, Your Grace?”
“Yes, the duchess and I were curious as to how the parrot arrived. Who brought him here and who’s been looking after him?”
“And why weren’t we told he was here?” Daphne demanded.
“Your father had him brought here, and MacDonald has been looking after him. It was MacDonald who suggested the conservatory.”
Arthur looked over at his wife. She was still not satisfied with the explanation given them. “MacDonald is an underbutler. He looks after Roddy quite often.”
“I’ll have to thank him for putting Sam in here. It appears he’s taken good care of him.”
Turning to the older gentleman, Arthur thanked him and ordered tea for the two of them. He knew Daphne would want to spend time with Sam.
After Wilson left, Arthur sat down in a large white wicker chair. He despised these chairs, but his mother had insisted they belonged here and that had been that. “Are you satisfied Sam’s been well looked after?”
“Yes, though I still am not happy we hadn’t been told he was here.”
“I’m sure it was just an oversight. We just arrived and all.”
She flashed him a demure smile. “I’m sure you’re right, and it certainly has been a whirlwind since we returned.”
“It certainly has,” he replied.
“I guess we’ll have to wait for you to show me that room you were talking about.”
“Only until tonight.”
Squawking from Sam interrupted any conversation. The parrot seemed to know how to bring all conversation back to him. Until he opened his mouth. Arthur spotted him walking on the floor, coming their way.
“What are you up to, Sam?” Daphne asked. The bird was headed directly to her chair.
“Sam see. Sam see.”
She bent down and scratched the bird’s head. “What does Sam see?”
“Wankers. Everyone wanker.”
“Sam, that’s not a nice word,” she scolded.
“I can imagine your mother attempting to have ladies over and Sam greets them with his colorful words,” Arthur snorted.
“He holds back for no one.”
“Do you wish to take him to London with us?”
“Let me think on it. I’ll tell you tomorrow,” she replied. “Would you like to go to London, Sam?”
Sam nodded his head and neck up and down in approval. “Sam beautiful arse.”
Arthur burst out in a fit of laughter that could probably be heard throughout the house.”