Chapter 11
Do not disappoint me. Theodore’s warning echoed in Harriet’s mind as soon as she had turned to see him standing behind her. His brow had been furrowed in disapproval that had only deepened when she had suggested she might read to Phoebe.
“Perhaps, Your Grace, it would be best if I took Phoebe to bed?” Mrs. Morton lowered her gaze deferentially as she swept into a curtsey. “As you say, it is late, and she has lessons in the morning.”
Harriet saw Phoebe flinch, her eyes apparently glued to the floor. The girl’s shoulders sagged, and Harriet had to resist the urge to pull her close to her. She suspected that would be too much for the little girl.
She could feel Theodore studying her, waiting for her to make her next move. She took a breath, ignoring the bead of sweat trickling down her neck.
“Of course. Would you like me to walk with you?” She addressed the last to Phoebe.
The girl glanced up and nodded once. Harriet smiled. “Good, that will give us a chance to chat a little more.”
Mrs. Morton nodded curtly, falling into step beside Phoebe and Harriet. She half hoped that Theodore would not follow them, but he did.
Harriet tried to hide her nerves as she straightened, ignoring the way her words echoed through the hall as she tried to engage Phoebe in conversation.
The girl glanced up every now and then, staying close to her but not saying a word. Harriet tried to hide her disappointment – she suspected it would only make the situation worse.
“Is this your room?” Harriet asked as they stopped outside of a wooden door.
Phoebe nodded and took a step away, moving towards the door.
“Thank you for your company, Phoebe.” Harriet knelt down so that she and the little girl were eye level. “I will see you tomorrow.”
Phoebe chewed her lip, but did not say anything. Harriet could see Mrs. Morton’s lips thin. She sensed that the governess was about to ask Phoebe to say goodnight, to remind her of her manners. Harriet gestured to the door.
“You go to bed. You will need to be well rested.” Harriet stood and inclined her head towards Mrs. Morton. “Good night, Mrs. Morton. Sleep well, Phoebe.”
“Good night, Your Grace.” Mrs. Morton curtseyed and ushered Phoebe through the door, closing it behind her.
It was then that Harriet realized that she and Theodore were alone in the corridor. She waited for a reprimand, tensing as she turned to face him. His face was entirely in shadow.
“I think that went well?” Harriet wished it did not sound like a question as she took a step away from Phoebe’s door.
Theodore said nothing. She could not tell if that was a good sign or a bad one; his face was half in shadow. She glanced up and down the corridor. “Though I probably should have asked Mrs. Morton where my rooms are.”
“I will show you.” Theodore gestured vaguely in the opposite direction from where they had come. “They are not far from here.”
Harriet fell into step beside him, stopping as they approached a wooden door down the hall.
It was several yards from Phoebe’s rooms. Theodore opened it and gestured inside.
“Your rooms. The servants will have brought everything you need for you and I expect your lady’s maid will be waiting in your bedroom to help you prepare for bed. ”
Harriet glanced from Theodore to the room. There were no other doors on the landing. Her heart crept closer to her throat, and she tapped her fingers against the fabric of her dress.
“And what… What about…” The words stuck in her throat. “What about you?”
Theodore’s mouth twitched. “These quarters are for you, not us. I have my own in the East Wing.”
But this is the West Wing. Her confusion must have been clear on her face because Theodore added, “These rooms will allow you to be close to Phoebe. If she has need of you in the night or anything like that, you will be able to find her easily.”
She peered into the room. It was illuminated by the flickering light of candles, showing her a chaise longue in an antechamber and another door that she suspected led to her main bedroom. They were spacious, larger than anything on her father’s estate, but they felt empty.
There was a coldness to them even though a rush of warmth from within told her that the fire in the hearth had only recently gone out. “And if she has need of you?”
“She will not.” Theodore’s voice was low and firm.
Harriet glanced back into the room, but could not make her feet step over the threshold. She looked back at Theodore, then at the corridor they had just come from.
“This is where you expect me to stay.” Harriet gestured behind her. “As far as it is possible to be from you?”
She had not meant it to sound like a challenge, but the words carried more bite than she had intended.
Theodore’s eyes flashed as he took a step towards her. “Is there a problem?”
He towered in front of her, and she took a step back without thinking, her body pressed against the cold stone of the wall behind her. “No. I just… I did not… I thought…”
“You thought what?” Color filled her cheeks as Theodore took a step towards her, his voice barely more than a whisper and yet each word seemed to drive itself into her chest.
Every part of her screamed to run, to slink into the room behind her as she stared into the tempest of his eyes, but her legs would not obey her.
“Let me be clear, Harriet, this is not a love match. You will join me occasionally at events, as you are my duchess.” His breath tickled her skin, and she felt her legs begin to shake. “But the main reason for this arrangement is Phoebe. She is your first priority. Do you understand?”
Her breath caught. The smell of musk and cedar mingled with horse and woodsmoke. She closed her eyes and nodded. She felt a rush of cold air.
When she opened her eyes, Theodore was nowhere to be seen. She let out a long, shaky breath adjusting the necklace around her neck.
Her heart sank as she stepped into her rooms. You are my duchess. She let out a bitter laugh at Theodore’s words. “I feel more like a governess.”
* * *
“And that is everything.” Lucy beamed at Harriet as they came into the castle from the garden. “Well, everything in the immediate grounds at least. The rest you would need a horse or carriage to see.”
“I had not appreciated just how large the estate was.” Harriet’s head swam.
It was the day after they had arrived at Irondale hall and she and Lucy had just finished the tour of the grounds. She had not seen Theodore since the night before.
It is probably for the best.
He was far too confusing to be around. Her skin tingled and she glanced over her shoulder, half expecting him to be there, but he was not.
“It takes some getting used to. My first week here, I nearly ended up interrupting the Duke in his study because I mistook it for the library.” Lucy shivered. “Thankfully Mama caught me just in time.”
“That is lucky.” Harriet rubbed the side of her neck as she tried not to think of Theodore the night before. “He does not seem to like changes to his routine.”
“His Grace prizes order and discipline above all else, Your Grace.” Mrs. Morton inclined her head as she swept into a curtsey. “Forgive the intrusion, Duchess. I hope my daughter has been good company.”
“There is nothing to forgive, Mrs. Morton. And your daughter has been an absolute delight. Though I fear I have rather a lot to learn.” Harriet tried to give Mrs. Morton what she hoped was a charming smile, though the woman remained unmoved.
“I am sure you will in time. The household runs on rather strict routines, this makes it easier to understand how things are done.”
“But surely not everyone has their time so regimented. What about Phoebe?”
“There is some flexibility in the girl’s schedule, but His Grace feels it is important she be given structure, consistency and order.”
“Given her past, I think he felt the predictability would make her feel safe.” Harriet caught sight of Mrs. Morton shooting her daughter a warning glare and managed to stop herself asking about Phoebe’s past.
“I can see a certain sense in that.” Harriet hedged, glancing into the room at Phoebe.
The girl was curled on a sofa, her legs drawn tight to her chest. She held a book in her hands, but her eyes stared at the pages unfocused and inattentive. It made Harriet’s chest ache and she took a step towards the girl.
“Good morning, Phoebe.” Harriet smiled at her. “Are you enjoying your book?”
Phoebe’s eyes flicked upwards and she nodded. Harriet took another step into the room. Phoebe remained where she was, though Harriet saw her little body tense. She froze and glanced at Lucy and Mrs. Morton.
“Lady Phoebe does not like to be disturbed when she reads.” Lucy explained.
“I see.” Harriet’s eyes fell on a stack of papers on a table inside the room. “Would you mind if I used some of those papers?”
“Of course not.” The slight crease in Mrs. Morton’s brow told Harriet that the woman had stopped herself asking why.
“I find that when my head is full, the best thing to do is get some of my thoughts on paper.” Harriet explained as she sat at the desk and pulled several sheets towards her. “Drawing helps empty my mind.”
She heard an intake of breath and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Phoebe stiffen, her attention focused entirely on Harriet. Harriet forced herself to focus on the paper in front of her, beckoning Lucy towards her as she picked up a pencil.
“Would you remind me of the gardener’s name?” Harriet asked.
“Thank you.” Harriet began to sketch a picture of a wild rose bush with pruning shears beside it.
As she did, she heard the scuffle of footsteps, and when she looked up, Phoebe was peering at her, hands on the table as she leaned across to see what Harriet was doing. Her eyes were wide and bright; Harriet could practically feel the excitement coming off her.
“What are you doing?” Phoebe asked, her voice so quiet it was little more than a whisper, as though it had grown hoarse with disuse.