Chapter 10
Chapter ten
So many times over the course of his life, Tillman had wondered why heaven had placed him with a crofter and a washerwoman yet provided a path to a privileged education.
Why it had made him adept with numbers and words in a way that could have seen him prosper in the city while giving him a love of sunshine and open fields that meant he railed against such a thought.
Why he had been given such simple beginnings only to spend his middle years within the layered complexities of class and privilege and hierarchy.
Why, in a house full of lovely maids and working widows, in paddocks where hearty women stoked sheaves and brought sandwiches and ale out to their menfolk, he’d been destined to spend his days with one eye on the yield and another on the windows of the big house.
Why he was always trying to catch a glimpse of a woman so far beyond his reach he’d have better luck trying to catch the moon than to even touch her hem.
But as Her Grace rode the horse she’d stolen from her father along her dead husband’s overgrown driveway, balancing her boy between her arms, both of them looking like they were about to drop from exhaustion, he could no longer question any of it.
He did not even need an answer as to why.
He was here. He had helped. That was enough.
No, not quite.
He had loved.
And that was enough.
Tillman pushed himself off the column he’d been leaning against, straightening to his full height.
‘You should be in bed,’ the duchess chastised, as she pulled up before him. ‘But I will not complain at being greeted by a familiar face. Arley?’ She nudged the lad’s side. ‘Are you awake enough to stand?’
His Grace blinked awake, nodded his head, and mumbled, ‘I think so.’ He slid from the horse and landed with a stagger.
Tillman crossed the portico to open the door, then hollered into the house.
Feet clattered across the floor, voices grumbled, doors slammed, and despite the hour—almost midnight—everyone seemed to emerge from their rooms. There was a certain satisfaction in hearing the old house wake up and remember that it had a new master, a new purpose in the world.
Lorelei swung herself from the horse with a stumble of her own, wincing in pain. ‘He needs to eat. Cecil!’ She craned her neck, bending around him as she spotted the indefatigable butler. ‘He’s hungry. Bread, cheese, cold meats, anything you have. Please make sure—’
‘The kitchen has been stocked with everything His Grace may request, Your Grace,’ Cecil replied, and Tillman couldn’t help but smile at the slightly churlish edge to his tone. ‘And for yourself?’
Lorelei waved a hand. ‘Just wine,’ she replied, then laughed. ‘Lots of wine. I want the best bottle from the cellar.’
‘Bread and cheese, too,’ Tillman mouthed.
Cecil bowed, then disappeared into the house.
He left the door ajar, and a slow hum and knock of activity flittered onto the stones from inside.
Before too long, the noise drifted away as the staff and the young duke moved deeper into the house.
Wind bothered the leaves, and they rustled as winter whispered against the branches of the trees.
Tillman gathered the reins and took the horse by the bridle. He began to walk down the drive, towards the path that led past the side of the house to the stables.
‘Mr Masters, wait!’ Lorelei followed him. ‘Thank you. For this afternoon. For everything. I could not have brought him home without you. And before you go… And because I fear that the woman I’ll need to be tomorrow will not be the woman I am tonight… I would very much like to do this.’
Lorelei pushed herself up onto her tiptoes to press her lips to his.
Earlier, she had been full of so much hesitation and worry.
This kiss fell like a leaf on a day with no breeze, and he let it settle into him.
There was peace in her kiss and in the palm that she placed against his chest. And while she might not have felt certain, not yet, she was, undeniably, a woman who had discovered something new about herself.
No, not discovered. She had remembered.
He pulled back, and the kiss broke. He outlined a shadow that had fallen across her cheek and nudged her chin so that she stood fully in the light. She smiled, eyes closed, and for just a flicker, she was his.
‘I… I always noticed,’ she whispered, as she leant her cheek into his hand. ‘The time you took. The care, and your patience with me. I always assumed it was out of deference to—’
‘It was never for William.’ He stroked her lip.
Kissed her one last time, then pulled away before he became too ambitious and would be unable to contain himself.
‘As little as I think of the Duke of Stoneleigh, his horse did well this evening and needs a proper rubdown. I’ll see to him and ensure he’s stabled.
The coach driver can return him on the morrow, and if the duke’s groomsman has found himself unemployed because of us, I’ll be sure to offer him work. ’
He grabbed the reins and tugged. In the stable, he removed the saddle and tried not to think about the way she had winced with pain as she landed, desperately tried not to think about her thighs or how they had fared against the leather.
He rubbed straw over the horse’s flanks to remove the dirt and mud, checked his feet, and topped up his chaff.
Worn out with heavy fatigue from the day, Tillman made his way into the house.
Through the back door. Into the hall. He moved past the doorway to the basement and paused at the bottom of the stairs.
Followed the portrait frames of former dukes.
He turned, then opened the door that led to the staff quarters and descended the stairs.
In the dark hallway, he stopped. A weak band of light pulsed from beneath the door to his room, and when he opened it, a small pool of light spilt from a candle on the side table. Lorelei, perched on the side of his bed, looked up.
‘I don’t know where to sleep,’ she explained.
‘I can’t bring myself to lie on either of the beds upstairs.
I made Arley take the guest room so that he could sleep in a proper bed, but there is not enough linen to make up any other rooms. And I know I am being precious, but I refuse to sleep on a chaise longue, and anyway, the library smells like unwashed young man.
I am sorry, but it is awful. Could you bear to share? There is nowhere else for me to sleep.’
Tillman set his candle on the bedside table. ‘You stay here with me, you won’t sleep. Especially not after that kiss.’
The duchess stood. She came close and slid her hands along his chest, then behind his neck. Candleflame danced in her eyes. ‘I was hoping you would say that.’