Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
Jane snipped the black thread and examined her work.
The “A” against the outline shield that was the Aylton crest stitched in pale blue was not as detailed as she would have liked.
However, with as little time as she had to procure a birthday gift for her husband, the simple handkerchiefs would have to do.
What would he think of such a paltry offering?
They had yet to make the trip into Shrewsbury to have her ring made smaller.
Something Richard had mentioned twice this week.
The town some ten miles away offered more shops than the local village.
She had hoped they would make the trip yesterday, but as was becoming the pattern, Thursday’s downpour made the roads too treacherous for a pleasure outing.
If only she thought of purchasing something in Bath for his birthday.
His birthday was the reason for their haste in the wedding.
However, she would have had to use his funds then.
Now she had pin money that was hers only because it was his first. Was there any difference?
Did it matter?
Richard continued to treat her with kindness.
He had even offered to purchase her a mare at Tattersall’s in the spring despite the fact she had not ridden in years.
Lady Anne’s docile mare was in the stables, but the horse was getting old.
The head groom cautioned Richard about someone else riding the animal especially in the cold.
He was giving her a horse, and she was giving him handkerchiefs!
If only she could think of something better!
She sorted through the thread looking for a golden yellow. It was time to wrap her ring again. Thrice this week she had nearly lost the band. A few wraps of thread on the back secured the ring in place.
Jane held up the last blank handkerchief, imagining a design.
The one he gave her to use the other night had only a single white “A” in the corner.
Plain and pedestrian. Enough to distinguish the cloth as his, should the need arise, but nothing to give the handkerchief the distinction a duke deserved.
She had been fortunate to find a length of fine white cotton in the sewing room large enough to make four handkerchiefs.
She worked through the night to finish the third handkerchief.
If business distracted Richard this morning, she might find time to finish the fourth with the Aylton motto, Honor, Fidelitas, et Integritas, before supper.
She yawned, though far more likely she would need a nap before tonight than be able to finish the last.
Martha scratched at the door before entering Jane’s bedchamber with a pail of water. It must be near five thirty in the morning. “Your Grace, I did not expect you to be awake so early.”
“I did not expect to be awake so late.” Jane could not help another yawn. “I wanted to make something for the Duke’s birthday.”
Martha set the bucket near the fireplace and came over to the chair where Jane sat.
“That is fine work, Your Grace. Would you like me to press them and bring them back when I come with your tray?”
“Can you press them without anyone seeing?” The surprise would be ruined if the valet saw them.
“Yes, Your Grace. Not even Francis.”
“Then please. I am going to attempt to sleep until you bring my tray.”
“At eight? I can say you requested your tray later than normal.”
“Please.” Jane moved to the bed and removed her dressing gown. Martha took the gown from her and laid it over the foot of the bed where Jane could easily reach the gown later.
“I will inform Francis not to disturb you.”
Jane mumbled her gratitude. Sadly, Francis was not nearly as quiet as Martha.
Yet another reason she should have chosen a different abigail.
Had Jane not been awake, she never would have heard Martha.
Francis would have dropped something with a clatter.
Jane’s eyes closed as she imagined the design for the last handkerchief.
Jenson held up Richard’s shirt for his approval. “The bruise on your side looks quite fearsome, Your Grace. Shall I prepare another poultice?”
Richard turned slightly to get a better look in the mirror, the red had turned to purple tinged with yellow.
The faster the mark faded, the better. Though he still considered the lie to Jane necessary, it would not do for her to discover his deception yet.
How had his demure wife caused so much damage with a children’s book?
Richard was positive she had not intended to harm him. “Yes, another poultice.”
Setting the shirt down, the valet picked up the bowl. “A half-hour should do. Then perhaps another this afternoon if you have time. You must be more careful about the statuary.”
Another lie. Though he trusted Jenson explicitly, Richard could not bear to tell him of the true cause of the bruise on his side.
Thus, his valet believed he abused a particularly ugly marble bust after tripping over his own feet, being the source of his pain in his side.
The poultice mixture was cold on Richard’s skin, smelling of comfrey and other herbs Richard could not name.
Herbs he must be sure to wash off lest Jane smell them.
Perhaps someday, when Jane was more comfortable around him and the abuse her father had piled upon her was a distant memory, Richard would tell her the truth of his injury.
It would be funny then, a book containing a story of a nutcracker defeating a mouse king, nearly bringing him down.
Had she held the book at another angle, there likely would have been no damage at all.
Jenson tsked. “I am afraid this will take a fortnight to heal.”
Another reason to keep his growing attraction to his wife in check.
For the third morning in a row, he wished to see her first thing instead of waiting for the breakfast hour.
He knew she was an early riser as she regularly had a tray with a slice of toast and a cup of chocolate sent to her room at seven.
Would she object to an early morning stroll?
For now, a ride was out because of the weather and her lack of a proper riding habit.
The note he sent Michael yesterday, begged Philippa to have one commissioned.
He would like to understand Jane’s riding style before purchasing her the promised horse.
Richard continued to ponder on his wife and what he might ask her today and what her response would be. Her insights into the world and even politics were often deeper than he expected. It was a great pleasure to have a wife who thought on more than the latest fashions and hair arrangements.
Her hair. He sighed. He had not realized Jane’s hair was of such a luxurious length until last night.
Forgetting he had her book when they retired, that he had come back and knocked at her door.
When the maid had opened it and Jane was sitting at the dressing room table her hair undone hanging past her waist. The knowledge made him want to slip the pins from her hair and run his fingers through its softness.
The thought of enjoying a woman’s hair had never occurred to him until seeing Jane’s unbound.
He was surprised when Jenson came to remove the poultice. Had he spent an entire half-hour thinking of Jane?
“A footman has returned from London and asks to speak to you immediately.”
Richard frowned. It was unlikely that a footman returned with something as innocuous as a birthday gift from his mother. “Have him brought up. I do not wish to be late for breakfast.”
“Reportedly Her Grace slept poorly last night. She may not be down as promptly as usual.”
Relief and concern hit him at once. “I am to be informed when she goes down. I do not wish to miss her.”
Jenson kept a stoic expression as he finished adjusting Richard’s cravat, although he looked as if he wished to smile. The large footman, Yates, entered and bowed in the crisp manner of the military.
“I understand you have urgent information.”
“Your Grace, I regret to inform you, we lost track of Mr. Duncan three days ago. There were signs he traveled to Dover and sailed to France. However, I believe they were a misdirection and that your half-brother is in the area.”
It would be like Duncan to appear at Richard’s doorstep on his birthday, if nothing else but to mock him and place Richard in the awkward position of refusing the man entry. Duncan might even bring a gift. Which, if edible, should be destroyed, as he did not wish to risk so much as a pig’s life.
Richard gestured to a chair. “Tell me all that you know.”