Chapter 25
Richard had been awake since before dawn. They had travelled late last night after Bridget had left. They were finally back to his home, with John, as their chaperone, of course. Caroline had asked for further proof of his change while travelling, but this time, it didn’t only concern him.
Which was why he now stood at the window of his study, hands clasped behind his back, watching as the tenants began to arrive across the lawns.
Wagons rumbled up the drive, their wheels crunching softly over gravel; men in work-stained coats removed their caps, women gathered their shawls more tightly around their shoulders.
There was a subdued murmur of curiosity among them—few had expected to be summoned to Ashwood Hall, and fewer still could remember a time when the duke had invited them there himself.
Today was different.
Caroline entered quietly behind him, her presence a soft rustle of fabric and light.
She wore a gown of pale green muslin that caught the morning glow, the color setting off the brightness of her eyes.
Richard turned at the sound, his expression composed, though a flicker of warmth stirred in his gaze.
“They are nearly all here,” he said.
She stepped beside him, looking out over the gathering. “They seem nervous,” she observed.
“They are,” Richard replied evenly. “Most have never seen me without a ledger between us.” He sighed, “Why did you convince me to do this?”
Caroline smiled softly, a gentle and knowing smile that hinted at a plan forming in her mind. "Because you need to give them a reason to look past just numbers in their ledgers," she said, her voice carrying a little spark of mischief.
He looked at her closely for a moment, watching her with curious eyes. A slight twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested he was trying to hold back a smile. "You plan to soften them up, don’t you?" he asked, his tone teasing yet intrigued.
"Well, someone has to do it," she replied lightly, her words dancing with playful ease. "After all, the Devil of the Ton can’t manage it all by himself. You know that."
He chuckled softly, the sound almost a hum of amusement. Although he was entertained, his eyes stayed locked on her face, as if trying to read her intentions. "So, you’re set on ruining my reputation for being intimidating, is that it?" he questioned with a mock-serious tone.
“I am determined,” she said, “to make your people love you. Respect might be a good start, but it’s hardly ever enough.”
The words struck him more deeply than she knew. He had commanded loyalty, fear, and respect—but love had never been in question.
By midmorning, the tenants were assembled upon the south lawn.
A platform had been set up before the steps of the Hall, modest but formal enough to lend weight to the occasion.
Richard ascended first, Caroline following at his side, her gloved hand brushing his arm for balance.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd at the sight of her; it was rare enough for a future Duchess to attend such a gathering, rarer still for one to stand among them rather than above them.
Mr. Alden, Richard’s steward, wrung his hands nervously behind a stack of ledgers. “Your Grace, if I might remind you, there is protocol–”
Richard silenced him with a look. “Protocol can rest for one day.”
Caroline turned to the steward with a reassuring smile. “I promise not to overturn your precious order, Mr. Alden. We simply mean to listen.”
The first speaker was an elderly farmer, his shoulders stooped, his hat twisting nervously in his hands. “Your Grace,” he began, voice trembling, “forgive me for troubling you, but the Ashbrook flooded again last week. The soil’s gone soft and half my seed with it.”
Richard stood there, listening intently with his arms crossed over his chest. His face was serious and focused, as if he were deep in thought.
Just as he was about to speak, Caroline leaned forward a little.
Her voice was gentle but full of confidence as she spoke.
"The Ashbrook flows through the eastern fields, doesn’t it? " she asked, her tone thoughtful.
The man she addressed seemed a bit surprised to be spoken to directly by her. "Aye, Your Grace," he responded, nodding his head in agreement.
"I took a walk there a few weeks ago," she continued, her eyes distant as if she was picturing the scene in her mind.
"The banks look like they’ve become weaker.
I think if we bolster them with stones and plant rushes along the edges, it would help.
The roots of the plants can hold the soil in place.
That way, it would stop more flooding from happening. "
Richard turned his head to look at her, his eyebrows lifting in surprise and a bit of admiration. "You’ve taken a look at the Ashbrook?" he asked, a hint of wonder in his voice.
“I walk, Your Grace,” she said with a small smile. “I have eyes.”
A murmur of laughter rippled through the crowd, easing the tension. Richard regarded her for a long moment before nodding. “A sensible plan. See it done.”
The farmer’s relief was almost palpable. He bowed deeply, gratitude shining in his weathered face. “Bless you, Your Grace. Both of you.”
Caroline inclined her head graciously, her smile soft. When the man stepped back, others pressed forward—men and women of every age and station, each with some grievance or request. Richard listened with his usual restraint, but Caroline moved among them with a warmth he could never have mustered.
A baker sought aid for repairs after a kitchen fire. A shepherd complained of wolves taking his lambs. To each, Caroline gave her attention as though no one else existed. Her voice, calm and steady, carried clearly in the spring air.
Then came a young woman with a shawl drawn tightly about her shoulders, setting a pale child carefully down in front of her. Her eyes were red from weeping.
“Your Grace,” she began, her voice barely more than a whisper. “My son’s been taken by fever. The doctor says he cannot come—not for such a small fee.”
Before anyone had a chance to respond or say a word, Caroline swiftly knelt down on the soft grass.
She didn’t pay any attention to her gown getting dirty or creased.
Her focus was entirely on the little boy in front of her.
Caroline gently placed her gloved hand on the boy’s hot, flushed cheek, feeling the warmth of the fever.
Her brow furrowed with concern, clearly worried about the child's condition.
"How long has he been like this?" she asked, her voice gentle but urgent.
The woman beside the boy sobbed, her distress evident. "Two days," she cried, her voice shaky and full of worry. "He can hardly keep any water down."
Caroline’s expression turned even more serious as she looked up quickly, her eyes locking onto Richard’s. The urgency in her gaze was unmistakable. "He needs the physician. Now," she declared with determination, leaving no room for doubt.
Richard didn’t hesitate for a second. He nodded, understanding the severity of the situation immediately.
"I’ll send for Langdon," he said right away, knowing that the physician was needed urgently.
Turning to his steward, he instructed with a firm voice, "Have a carriage ready. We need to be quick."
“At whose cost, Your Grace?” Alden stammered.
Caroline’s answer came before Richard’s. “At ours.”
Richard’s mouth twitched, a faint smile ghosting across his face. “Naturally,” he said.
The mother fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face. “Bless you, my lady—my lord—thank you–”
Caroline rose gracefully, squeezing the woman’s hand. “No thanks are needed. Ashwood stands for its own.”
The words carried softly but surely through the crowd, as steady as a church bell. The people murmured assent, a low tide of approval. Even those who had once whispered of the duke’s cruelty seemed to look upon him differently now, seeing him through the lens of the woman beside him.
Richard watched her quietly as the tenants began to disperse, his expression unreadable. She had accomplished in an hour what he had struggled for years to achieve: not mere obedience, but trust.
When the last of the grand carriages rolled away, disappearing down the long winding drive, Caroline remained by Richard’s side.
They stood at the very edge of the stone terrace, looking out over the vastness of the estate.
The evening air was cool, and it brushed gently against their faces.
Caroline’s cheeks were lightly flushed, and her eyes sparkled like stars in the fading light.
"It went well," she said softly, her voice filled with a quiet satisfaction.
"It did," Richard admitted, a rare warm tone in his voice. "They’ll speak of this day for a long time to come."
Caroline turned to look at him, a smile spreading across her face, her eyes filled with a mix of joy and triumph. "You see, Richard? Fear isn’t the only way to rule," she said, her words carrying a gentle, teasing note.
He looked at her steadily, holding her gaze for a long moment. Something like pride began to rise within him, stirring beneath his usual composed exterior. "No," he said quietly, almost to himself as much as to her. "It seems love commands more."
Her laugh was gentle and sincere, the sound so soft it was almost carried away by the evening breeze. "A dangerous lesson, Your Grace," she replied with a playful sparkle in her eyes.
He smiled faintly. “The most worthwhile often are.”