Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
What manner of life have I agreed to?
April stood in the middle of her chambers in Stone Hall, her fingers brushing lightly against the curve of a velvet-backed chair. The sitting room was charming in its way—soft pale greens and delicate cream, the sort of colors that invited peace. It should have comforted her.
It did not.
Theo had handed her to the housekeeper Mrs. Maple upon their arrival and left without answering any of the questions she’d asked him.
She wandered slowly toward the adjoining bedchamber which bore the same serene palette.
Her skirts whispered along the polished floor as she approached the tall windows.
The bed stood grand and untouched, its frame a subtle ivory, and its covers crisp and unmarred.
To the left was a narrow connecting door. She didn’t try it, but she knew.
That will be his room. Of course, it will.
She turned away and crossed the room to the windows. The gardens below stretched wide and ordered, each hedge and path meticulously shaped. Roses, lilies, and bluebells nodded gently in the breeze.
How such beauty existed in the life of a man so emotionally impenetrable was beyond her.
A knock interrupted her thoughts. Before she could cross the room, the door opened and in bustled Mrs. Maple, a round woman with an energetic gait and flaming red hair that seemed to defy the strict pins trying to contain it.
“Your Grace! Begging your pardon, I did knock but there was no response. His Grace sent me to be sure you’re settling well and find the chambers to your liking.”
April glanced around again. “They are quite lovely.”
Mrs. Maple beamed. “Dinner is at eight, but if you like, I can show you around before then. It’s a large place, and it’s always better to learn it with company.”
April nodded. “I would like that very much.”
The tour began on the ground floor with parlors, studies, and drawing rooms, each as elegantly appointed as the last. The walls bore tasteful art, and the furniture was chosen with the restraint and precision of someone who disliked excess. Yet it was not cold.
“The Duke said the Duchess is to make changes where she sees fit,” Mrs. Maple added as they entered the music room.
April turned. “Did he truly?”
“Indeed. Said this was your home now too.”
The words lodged somewhere between her ribs.
She walked slowly, eyes sweeping the room. “May I ask, what kind of master is the Duke?”
Mrs. Maple’s eyes lit. “Oh, firm to be sure. But fair. I’ve served this house since he was a boy of seven.
He came back from school early once and told Cook her stew was the best in England.
Cook’s been loyal ever since. He keeps his servants well.
Never cruel. Quiet, mostly, but he listens, and when his aunt visits, he changes.
He warms right up, and you can see the boy he was. ”
April smiled faintly. “You are fond of him.”
“Everyone who stays long is.”
Then why does he feel like a stranger to me still?
When the tour concluded, April returned to her chambers. Miss Evans, her new lady’s maid, assisted her with a dress of dusky lavender trimmed in silver. Her hair was pinned with care, a pearl comb tucked behind one ear. After the final touches, she descended.
The drawing room was already lit. Theo stood near the hearth, a small leather-bound book in hand. He closed it and tucked it into his coat as she entered.
He rose.
“April,” he greeted, and her breath quickened. How dare he look handsome and affect me thusly?
“Your Grace.” She endeavored to keep both her voice and demeanor placid.
He stood in front of her and their eyes held. April still could not read his expression, but she did wonder why he was hesitating. Then his gaze began to grow intense, a magnetism forming and holding between them.
I should step back… Should I?
Theo offered his arm, and taking a slow breath, she took it, saying nothing. Yet she felt everything. The solid muscle beneath the fine fabric of his sleeve. The steely confidence of his gait, the scent that had become so familiar. Her heart beat like it might betray her.
They entered the dining room. The table stretched long and formal, set for two at opposite ends. Of course.
He escorted her to her seat and pulled her chair out. When she was seated, he walked back the length of the table and took his own place.
Perhaps this is for the best. If we are far apart, we need not pretend to converse.
She focused on her plate, particularly on the pheasant which was tender in a rich sauce. She ate, and the silence stretched.
“What do you think of the manor?” he asked at last.
“It is an elegant place.” Why is he attempting to converse with me?
“You may redecorate, anything you wish.”
She glanced up at him. “Yes, Mrs. Maple mentioned that.”
He nodded, and she let the silence remain. I will not give more than you are giving me, Theo.
“Do you intend to ignore me like this for the rest of our marriage?”
The movement of her knife halted mid-cut. Slowly, she turned her gaze to him. Her lips parted, as though words might follow.
Yet none did.
I have always had something to say to him. Now, I do not even know who he is.
She picked up her sherry glass and took a long sip. Theo gave a small nod then muttered something she could not catch.
The rest of the meal passed in silence. When they finished, she rose.
“I shall retire. Good evening.”
And she left him there, seated at the opposite end of the table, with too much space between them and far too many unsaid things.
Theo,
trust you are keeping well and as taciturn as ever. Loretta and I have decided that we are returning to England for good. Four years is a long time to be away. We miss home and we miss you.
We shall visit you in Stone Hall as soon as we return, and I am sure you will find Samuel and Everett older and more pleasant than ever.
Be well and smile more often, Cousin.
Yours,
Gregory.
Theo folded the missive and set it aside to respond as a later time. He will not believe his wandering cousin and his family will return to England until he saw them. Picking up the next correspondence—this one from his solicitor—he unfolded it and concentrated:
Your Grace,
As requested, I have initiated the release of your remaining inheritance. It may take several weeks, but I will speak to the judge should you need it expedited.
Your faithful servant,
Edward McMichael.
He leaned back in his seat and pondered the contents of the letter. Now his aunt will have her home in Kent, and she will be closer to him. Theo dipped his quill in ink and drew a parchment to respond.
“That is a lovely pond.”
Theo paused mid-sentence, his pen hovering above the parchment. The voice drifted through the open window of his study, delicate and utterly hers. April. The ink on his letter blotched, forgotten. His mind, always so precise, now spun with words he wouldn’t write.
Her voice unraveled him. That was the only word for it.
Then came Mrs. Maple’s familiar tone. “There used to be a well right where that pond is. Come closer, Your Grace, and I shall show you where the old stones still lie.”
There was a beat of silence then, “I think I’m comfortable admiring it from here.”
Theo stood with no thought nor plan. The walls of his study were like a vice. He needed air—or perhaps he needed her. He wasn’t certain anymore.
He crossed to the window, and there she was in a lavender frock, standing near the pond. Even from this distance, he noticed the tension in her shoulders and the slight caution in her step.
She’s still afraid of the water.
He remembered that moment at the Serpentine. How she had shrunk back from the edge, her eyes unfocused.
His restraint had teeth, and he was doing all he could to remain within the walls of this room. But then all thought left him, and he strode out, his work abandoned.
Outside, the breeze met him, carrying the scent of roses, trimmed hedges, and faintly, April. Always her.
He spotted them near the southern path. Mrs. Maple glanced up as he approached.
“Your Grace,” she greeted brightly.
“Mrs. Maple, I believe I shall take over the tour.”
The housekeeper curtsied, smiling between them before drifting off. He turned to April, offering his arm. She took it, and silence settled between them like mist.
He hated it. The quiet that used to be his ally now gnawed at him. She was next to him, but the distance between them was too vast.
“You have not spoken to me properly in days,” he observed. Not accusing. Not gentle. Just truth.
Her gaze remained forward. “I still have my voice. I simply have no way of using it.”
“I am not stopping you.”
She looked at him then. Truly looked. “Are you certain, Duke?”
He frowned, knowing very well where the accusation was coming from. If only it were easy to tell her everything she wanted to know.
Her words hit harder than he expected, but he kept his face still. He was good at that and had trained for years.
He opened his mouth, but nothing came. A war broke out behind his ribs, between pride and longing, between silence and need. Theo had left his study to conquer the distance between them, but all he had done was broaden the chasm.
“How do you like the gardens?” he asked, searching her face for a reaction. He found none. I suppose this is what it feels like when one chooses to behave as aloof as I do.
“What are you doing here?” April asked instead of responding to his question. “Mrs. Maple was doing well showing me the manor.”
His eyes narrowed, and he felt his jaw clenching. She was slipping beneath his skin, but he knew he had to rein in his emotions. It would be too easy to walk away and decide the conversation was over, but that would help neither of them.
“I thought you would prefer it if I showed you around instead of the housekeeper.”
Theo held back a wince as he spoke. The words were likely the wrong ones, and the spark in her eyes appeared to confirm it.
“Oh?” She folded her arms across her chest. “Then perhaps you should have thought of that when you handed me to the servants upon our arrival.”
“That—"
“I need a husband who will speak to me. Who sees me as more than a name to escort or a duchess to present.”
“I see you.” The words scraped his throat on the way out.
“Then why do I feel invisible?” she asked, her voice trembling at the edges.
Theo held his breath. She didn’t know how much he saw her. How much of his thoughts she occupied and how she unraveled him just by being near.
“I do not know how to be this,” he admitted. “Not with you. You undo every plan I ever made.”
For a moment, she said nothing. Then, gently, she withdrew her hand from his arm.
“I have correspondences to attend to. Thank you for the walk, Duke.”
She turned and walked away.
Theo stood rooted. His fists clenched at his sides.
What do you want from me, April? A truth I cannot give? A version of me I have long buried? Or worse… do you want the man I might become if I let myself feel everything you make me feel?
His hands curled loosely at his sides. He had not expected marriage to be smooth, but he had not expected this either.
Frustration prickled through him like thorns, and for the first time in years, he did not know what to do next. Footsteps approached from behind. Redmond, the butler, cleared his throat quietly and held out a silver tray with a single envelope upon it.
“A missive, Your Grace. It arrived by hand.”
Theo took the envelope and opened it without ceremony. His eyes scanned the short message.
Your Grace,
I have not been able to trace the name Michael Linwood.
It may very well be an alias. However, I have confirmed that H.R.
’s last known assignment involved uncovering a group of noblemen suspected of selling English intelligence to Russian agents.
H.R. was preparing to return to London when his home was attacked in Kent. I shall continue searching.
Your obedient servant,
Mr. Charles Smythe.
Theo folded the letter once and slipped it into his coat. Michael Linwood. Who hides behind that name? Have our paths crossed before?
He reached for the handkerchief tucked in his coat pocket and pressed it between his palms, grounding himself as he took several long, steadying breaths.
Theo considered what he knew. It was not enough. If he was to conclude this investigation and bury the past, he would need to learn more, and quickly.
Whatever it cost.