Chapter Two
The woman was not as young and fragile-looking as he’d expected. That was something, at least. Twitching aside the dusty velvet curtains, Marcus peered down into the courtyard once more.
She’d almost spotted him earlier, when she was scanning the front of the manor.
Even the thick mist could surely not have hidden the dismaying state of the place.
Crumbling brickwork, mossy pillars, a roof that threatened to leak, to say nothing of peeling wallpaper and damp patches inside the house.
Those repairs were beyond Marcus’ household budget at that moment, but the servants did what they could, keeping the gravel raked and the house as clean as could be expected.
The woman’s face hadn’t changed when she saw the house. There was merely interest there, and a good deal of trepidation. That was to be expected, of course. London was a long way from Yorkshire, and it was a difficult journey for a woman to make alone. He wouldn’t want Cate to make such a journey.
The thick pane of glass muffled most of the conversation from below. He could see Cate skipping around, barely able to contain her excitement.
She’s been without decent company for entirely too long.
That thought sent a pang of guilt through Marcus’ chest, too tight to ignore. He pushed it aside because now wasn’t the time for any of that.
No, he had to decide whether this girl should stay or not. At this moment, he was leaning towards no. There was a sharpness in her stare which he didn’t like. This was a girl who would notice things, no doubt.
A tap on the door jerked him out of his reverie. He glanced over in time to see Mrs. Reynolds shouldering open the door, hands full with a tray of tea.
“I didn’t ring for tea, Martha.”
“No, but I thought you needed some,” the housekeeper responded busily. “You go too long without eating or drinking, your Grace.”
Marcus sighed. When he looked back out of the window, both Cate and her friend had gone, leaving only an empty square of gravel. He let the curtain fall and turned away.
Mrs. Reynolds set the tea tray down on his desk, clearing away some papers and books. Books, of course, were everywhere in the house, creeping out of the library and into the surrounding rooms. Something needed to be done, and soon.
Hence, Miss Edith Hayton.
“Lady Catherine is very excited about the arrival of her friend,” Mrs. Reynolds remarked, pouring out a cup of tea and setting a thick wedge of cake onto a plate.
“I hope I’m not speaking out of turn, your Grace, when I say that I am glad she’s able to have a friend to stay.
It’s hard for a girl of her age to be without company. ”
“Are you criticising me, Mrs. Reynolds?”
“I am not,” she answered comfortably. “I have known you too long for that. But if you understood it as a criticism, then perhaps that says a little something, don’t you think?”
“Some dukes would dismiss a housekeeper for speaking so out of turn,” Marcus observed wryly.
Mrs. Reynolds only chuckled. “And me having raised you from a baby? Some dukes would dismiss a servant like that, but not you, your Grace. No, you’re a man of integrity and fine feeling. And don’t try to demur. You’re a fine man, and everybody knows it.”
“Not everybody. Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Reynolds. That’ll be all.”
The housekeeper nodded, taking a step back. Though small in stature, the silver-haired woman was not one to be underestimated. Marcus knew better, of course.
“Dinner is set at six,” she stated. “Lady Catherine assures me that Miss Hayton won’t mind that we keep earlier hours here in the country.”
“I imagine that Miss Hayton will simply be grateful to eat food she has not had to pay for herself. I imagine that she used up her final pennies to get here.”
Mrs. Reynolds’ eyebrows flickered. “Now, don’t be cruel, your Grace. I’ve heard of some of Miss Hayton’s woes. She has had a difficult life, the poor creature.”
“We have all led difficult lives,” Marcus responded tightly. “We all have woes and miseries. I don’t intend to give her any leeway for hers.”
“Of course not. But you’ll join the ladies for dinner tonight, your Grace, will you not?”
Marcus scratched the back of his neck. “I thought I might eat in my study, or in my rooms. That will give Cate a chance to catch up with her old friend.”
Mrs. Reynolds pursed her lips in disapproval. “I’m sure that Lady Catherine will have enough time to do so before dinner. I shall set the table for three.”
On this parting note, Mrs. Reynolds made a neat curtsey and exited the room, leaving Marcus alone with his cooling tea.
Almost without thinking, Marcus turned back to the window.
The courtyard was empty, as it seemed. No doubt Miss Edith Hayton would want to avoid going outside too much.
She would find the weather in Yorkshire vastly different from the weather in London.
Colder, damper, and more extreme. There would be more changes to manage, and warmer clothing would be needed.
Perhaps Miss Hayton would prefer to stay inside, as Cate did.
Such seclusion could not be good for their nerves, but Cate often complained that the harsh northern winds reddened her skin.
No, I don’t think Miss Hayton is that sort of woman.
He conjured up an image of her in his head, getting gracelessly out of the carriage.
She was an attractive woman, not in Cate’s fashionable, willowy sort of way, but somehow sturdier.
Miss Hayton wore an ugly brown dress, several seasons out of fashion, and kept her nut-brown hair pinned back in a simple knot at the back of her head.
No doubt she’s chosen that style so that she could put it up herself, on account of being without a lady’s maid.
And then there were her spectacles, round, wire-rimmed things that had slipped down to the tip of her nose three or four times while she was speaking to Cate.
Spectacles were not considered ladylike or fashionable, and he imagined that when she had been in Society, going to balls and gatherings, she had been obliged to leave the spectacles at home.
Indeed, Miss Hayton had fallen far in life.
Of course, that was merely the norm for women, especially single ones whose fathers racked up more debt than they could ever hope to repay.
But while most of those women either scrabbled to marry a suitable man or threw themselves on the mercy of family or friends, Miss Hayton had tried to better herself on her own. It was admirable, if not advisable.
A position as a governess might provide a little more security, at least until her charges grew up or ceased to need a governess. Cataloguing a library, however…well. That was not a long-term job. And when the job ended, Miss Hayton would need to move on.
But in the meantime, she was a guest, and Cate had made it abundantly clear how her guest should be treated.
With a sigh, Marcus picked up his teacup and took a long sip. It would be an interesting evening tonight, and he hadn’t had one of those in a while.
***
The clock tolled six just as Marcus strode past it.
He didn’t bother going to the drawing room to see if the ladies were waiting.
Instead, he went straight to the dining room.
Muted conversation drifted out from inside.
The butler waited outside, along with a handful of footmen who would be serving their meal.
Marcus inclined his head and entered the room.
The dining room table was as large as a room all by itself. Thirty people or more could fit around it with ease, with enough food for a town or two stacked between them.
Tonight, it was only set for three. Vast expanses of table, dark and empty, sat covered beneath white tablecloths. The candlesticks were reserved for the far end of the table, where Cate and Miss Hayton already sat.
Both women rose to their feet as Marcus approached.
“I’m so glad you came, Marcus,” Cate said eagerly, slipping her hand into his.
“I was afraid you would eat in your study again. But now you can meet my friend, Edith. I don’t believe you two ever met each other in London, but here she is now.
Edith, this is His Grace, Marcus Barrington, Duke of Barendale. ”
Bows were exchanged. Miss Hayton stared boldly at him, not with the nervous, demure gaze that he’d expected, but something much more forthright. He met her gaze squarely.
What does she know? What has she heard?
The locals called him The Beast, the same name they’d given to his father. Rumors abounded, of course. Some true, some exaggerated, some entirely made up. Ridiculous. Who only knew what she’d been told? What did she see when she looked at him? Her face gave away nothing.
How green her eyes are.
That thought made him flinch. Where had it come from? Miss Hayton certainly did have green eyes. They were properly green, green as grass, a rare enough color, but what did that mean?
I wish she were a little plainer, Marcus found himself thinking. He chose not to pursue that thought and lowered himself into his seat at the head of the table. The ladies sat down too, and the footmen entered, bearing silver-covered dishes.
There were a few moments of awkward silence while the first course was served. It was soup, which was nothing particularly exciting.
“This is a very large table,” Miss Hayton said at last, breaking the silence first.
Marcus said nothing, leaving Cate to respond.
“Yes, we used to entertain a great many people here, once upon a time. We live a quieter life now,” she added, swallowing.
A quieter life now. What a fine way of describing such a tense, empty existence. For Marcus, it was all work, keeping himself busy to avoid thinking too hard about anything in particular.
He was not entirely sure how Cate filled her days. Books, perhaps, singing, playing her pianoforte, wandering the halls, thinking.
That wasn’t a pleasant thought.
“Well, I for one don’t mind a quieter life,” Miss Hayton continued, taking a delicate sip of her soup. “This is delicious.”