Chapter 14 #2
“You should,” her father said. He reached out to take her hand. “Georgie, you have never put yourself forward, but I see the marvel that you are. Beauty, gentleness, kindness, intelligence. You would be the making of any man.”
She regarded him. Those steely grey eyes had softened. She had seldom seen him so fervent. Usually it was all logic and commands.
“Then why,” she asked, “could I not have been the making of Hugh?”
He released her. “You cannot make a silk purse from a sow’s ear. The boy was a fatherless child with nothing to recommend him.”
“Intelligence,” she reminded him, “kindness, gentleness. Did you not just find those traits praiseworthy?”
“For a woman!” He shook his head. “I want something more from the man who marries my daughter. The ability to provide, for one. Respect for another.”
She rather thought he meant wealth and position. “Freddie certainly provided for me. I don’t ever need to marry again.”
“Then why even look at someone like Caddington?”
“Because he makes me happy.” Georgie met her father’s gaze straight on, and he leaned away as if surprised.
“Because I like who I am when I’m with him.
Because I admire his devotion to his vocation and his desire to do something good.
Because even though he is only a country vicar, he dared to take in a lost boy and a dog with no home.
Those all seem like valid reasons to me. ”
“Georgie, Georgie.” Her father sighed. “Your kind heart does you credit, but you must consider the fellow more dispassionately. You’re a duchess!”
“A dowager duchess,” she said. “One of two, about to be three when the duke weds. And yes, I am well aware of my position. I refuse to consider it a cage.”
“Not a cage,” he agreed, “a dock from which to launch your ship.”
Georgie laughed. “What, Father, having married the son of a duke, am I now expected to reach for the nobility? Know of a prince somewhere who seeks a widowed bride?”
He glanced across the room. “No, but I’m well aware there’s another duke who’ll be seeking a wife shortly.”
She stared at him, laughter fading. “You want me to consider Max?”
“You could do worse,” he said with a shrug.
“You do realize he was a mere historian before he was elevated. Some would consider that quite below the consequence of a vicar.”
“And I was once a lowly ensign. It is not where we started in life, my girl, that matters, but where we are now. Why shouldn’t you set your cap at the new Duke of Tyneham?
You wouldn’t have to leave your home. You’d still be the duchess, with all the wealth and privilege that comes with it.
If you won’t consider my friend, Captain Collins, you ought to at least think about your future here. ”
She glanced across the room to where Max was smiling amiably as Sir Winfred raked in the cards he had won, chortling. The duke wasn’t unkind on the eyes; he was certainly gentle. And her father was right that marrying Max would solve a number of problems.
There was simply one insurmountable truth.
He wasn’t Hugh.
“My future is never far from my mind these days,” she said, returning her gaze to her father, who was watching her, eyes narrowed as if he sought any sign of weakening. “Now, perhaps we can plan something more entertaining for your visit than devising strategies for my marriage.”
* * *
By Wednesday afternoon, it was all Morrigan could do not to drop onto a chair somewhere and put up her aching feet.
Wednesdays were generally busier than usual at the manor, with a bigger dinner being cooked for the duke, family, and guests, but with the colonel in residence, many routines had had to be altered.
For one thing, the older fellow preferred an early morning breakfast, so everything had to be moved up an hour or so in the kitchens.
He expected a crisp copy of the Times at the table, so Bailey must press the one from two days ago, which was the soonest the village could procure a copy.
And the colonel favored a thick, aromatic tea with his meals, one that required an inordinate amount of time to steep.
“It’s black as tar,” Mrs. Bettleton had complained as she’d decanted it into a pot. “I don’t know how he tolerates it.” She’d sniffed the brew and shuddered.
Then they all had to dance around the extra entertainments.
Morrigan could hardly polish the furniture in the sitting room when the colonel and Her Grace the Second were sitting and talking in the morning sunshine streaming through the windows.
And Morrigan couldn’t clean the spot where Sir Winfred had spilled tea on the game room carpet when the baronet was trouncing Her Grace’s father at a game of billiards.
“At least Her Grace the Second took him out riding,” Bailey said as he moved the table back into position after Morrigan had scrubbed out the dark spot.
“But that only meant I had to take care of Anastasia for longer than usual.” She blew out a breath. “I’ll never catch up!”
“I’ll help,” Bailey assured her.
Together, they set the room to rights and then hurried to the library to clean it as well. She couldn’t help glancing at him as he shoved aside the desk so she could pick up any crumbs beneath it. Muscles bunched under his coat, and his face was determined.
“I knew it wasn’t so hard to work here.”
Morrigan pivoted to see who’d surprised them. Sally stood in the doorway.
“Here now,” Bailey said, leaving the desk to stride to her side. “You shouldn’t be in the family part of the house.”
She wrinkled her nose. “They’re all busy upstairs. No one saw me.”
“I saw you,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why are you here, Sally?”
She shuffled her feet. “Mum was sleeping. I knew Mrs. Bettleton would have a sweet laid by for me.” She dimpled at Morrigan. “Everyone here is so kind.”
Somewhere, a door slammed.
“Set the desk back in place,” Morrigan told Bailey, tossing the crumbs into the bucket she carried. “I’ll walk Sally out.”
He nodded and returned to work.
“At least he listens to you,” Sally complained as Morrigan led her toward the kitchen.
“He listens to you too,” Morrigan assured her. “You and your mum are very important to him.”
Sally cast her a glance from the corners of her eyes. “He cares about you too. I can tell.”
“And I care about him,” Morrigan said, pleasure rippling through her. “We make a good team.”
Perhaps in life as in work?