Chapter Ten
S hay narrowed his eyes as he surveyed the rafters in the dairy barn at the edge of the southern pasture and assessed what all would need to be fixed in the spring when the roof was reshingled.
“The three rafters on the south end need to be completely replaced,” he mumbled to Pearson, who was taking notes in a small book. In addition to valet, the man also served as Shay’s personal secretary because he needed someone in that position whom he could trust. “And the middle two joists.”
“Yes, sir,” Pearson muttered as he made a new note.
Shay slid him a glance. The man wasn’t happy to be out in the cold today and had been grumpy ever since Shay roused him from bed this morning. Pearson had overslept, then seemed bewildered that Shay wanted his help in dressing, only to be downright stunned when Shay said he wanted to ride out for the day to make notes for building repairs. The former aid-de-camp had blinked with incomprehension at the window, where dawn was barely streaking across the distant horizon, then stared at Shay as if he were a bedlamite. He’d muttered something beneath his breath about mad dogs and Englishmen, then dutifully hurried to Shay’s bedroom to help him dress.
Up at dawn? Shay nearly laughed. Being up implied that he’d slept, and he’d not closed his eyes since leaving Sophie’s room. Even now, hours later, not even the brisk chill of winter could tamp down his frustration. So it was best to simply avoid her. Again. And next time, he’d know better than to fall for the ploy of dinner in his room. He’d sleep in the barn if he had to.
Speaking of barns… “We need to evaluate the grooms’ quarters in the stable block. I think they—”
Pearson let out an irritated sigh.
Shay turned to him, arching his good brow. “Is something the matter, Pearson?”
“Yes.” The man snapped closed the notebook. He reached inside his coat to its breast pocket, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and handed it to Shay. “My resignation.”
Stunned, Shay blinked, not accepting it. “Because I roused you out of bed this morning when you wanted to sleep in?”
“Because I won’t serve under a mad man.”
“Yet you were willing to serve under Wellington.”
Pearson paused to consider that, then shook his head. “That was a different kind of madness.” He shoved the paper toward Shay again, leaving him no choice this time but to take it. But Shay didn’t open it. “I can no longer serve in your household, Colonel. Things have changed, sir, and not for the better.”
Understanding dawned on Shay. “You mean the new duchess.” He slowly folded his arms over his chest. “Sergeant, life is different when a new mistress comes into any home and starts making changes. Men have to learn to adapt if we—”
“Not her. You .” Pearson straightened his spine. “The way you’ve been treating her is ungentlemanly, sir, and unbecoming of an officer.”
“I’ve treated my wife like a princess. I’ve given her everything she’s asked for, as well as medical care for her father and a generous settlement that will allow her to do anything she wants.” Including leave me. Why she continued to stay, he had no idea. “I have never raised a hand to her—”
“And never laid a hand on her,” Pearson grumbled. His eyes narrowed accusingly. “You have a pretty new duchess who cares for you and wants to create a real home here. Surely, an old soldier like yourself knows what to do with a lovely lass like her.”
At that, Shay’s brow nearly shot off his forehead. “That is none of your busi—”
“I’ve always been loyal to you, sir, in war and peace.” Emboldened, Pearson let all that was bothering him tumble out unchecked. “I have never spoken back to you before or refused to do my duty to you. But now, it’s time I did.” He dragged in a deep breath that expanded his barrel chest nearly to bursting. “You, sir, are a blasted fool! You might be just fine shutting yourself away here, but she’s not some fairytale princess to be locked away in your tower.”
“Good,” he snapped out. “Because I’m not a Prince Charming.”
“No. You’re a duke, like it or not, and she should be treated as a duchess. She’s been here over a week, and you haven’t even taken her out to show her the estate lands or introduced her to the most important tenants.” He gestured a hand in the general direction of the village. “She wants to be an equal partner in your marriage. So let her be. You owe her that much respect, if nothing else.”
And that was clearly a jab about his marriage bed. Shay tightened his hand around the resignation letter to keep from tightening it around Pearson’s throat. “And you think leaving is the right way to bring my attention to the matter?”
His lips pursed into an aggravated line of disappointment in Shay. “It’s the only way I have, sir.”
A low rumble snagged Shay’s attention, and he looked out the doors of the dairy barn that had been left open wide to let in the morning air. So did the handful of men who tended the cows and were lurking about to see what Shay wanted with the dairy, not believing that the same lord who had ignored them for so many years would now be interested in their work. He didn’t blame them. Even the cows in their four rows of stalls looked up from chewing their hay at the noise and swung their broad heads toward the doors.
A carriage rolled its way up the long drive from the road. Compact and well-sprung, it bounced down the frozen drive in a steady, determined clip.
Cold dread trickled through Shay as he recognized it. This was not good.
“Pardon me, Pearson,” he said as he pulled on his riding gloves and hurried from the barn, with the soldier-turned-valet dutifully at his heels. “Your abandonment of me will have to wait.” He shoved Pearson’s resignation into his coat pocket. “Something dreadful is happening.” He swung up onto his horse and muttered, “Family has arrived.”
His feet had barely touched the stirrups before he turned the large gelding in a tight circle and pointed him toward the house, then let him loose in a dead run.
*
Sophie sat at the little writing desk in her bedroom and sketched out her plans for the garden, although the desk wasn’t truly big enough to do any real work. But then, as she had quickly learned after arriving here, she wasn’t meant to do any real work. Oh, she could make plans all she wanted, but there would be a team of gardeners to carry them out so she wouldn’t have to dirty her hands. Even the little bit she’d been able to do had stopped when she cut her hand, because Shay had been concerned enough—for no good reason, truly—to insist she have a footman by her side at all times, even when up to her ankles in dead plants.
He’d taken all the fun right out of gardening.
“Then I’ll just have to find a way to thwart the footman,” she mumbled to herself as she looked over her to-do list.
A knock interrupted her thoughts, and she looked up to find the butler standing at the open door. “Yes, Henley?”
“You have a visitor, Your Grace,” he told her. “Lord Malcolm, the Duke of Malvern’s uncle. I’ve asked him to wait in the yellow drawing room.”
Shay’s uncle? Her heart skipped nervously. Heavens. She’d hoped to meet Shay’s extended family, but not so soon. And certainly not without prior notice.
She looked down at her blue morning dress and matching pelisse and bit her bottom lip. The outfit was far too casual for such an important meeting. But her appearance couldn’t be helped. She couldn’t ask him to wait while she changed—his first impression of her then would be one of rudeness and vanity. Oh, she’d wanted to make a better impression on Shay’s family than this!
Henley cleared his throat. “If I may suggest, ma’am,” he offered helpfully, “you can greet him, have a refreshments tray sent to the drawing room so he can serve himself while you change…and while the groom sends for His Grace to return to the house.”
Her shoulders sagged with relief at the suggestion. “Henley, what would I do without you? Let’s do exactly that.”
His face flushed from the compliment. Then he nodded and stepped back to let her pass into the hall.
He followed her to the drawing room just so he could open the door for her and announce her to Lord Malcolm. She gave the butler a grateful nod as he slipped from the room and hurried away to order a tea tray and find the head groom.
Malcolm Douglass stood at the tall window overlooking the rear gardens as if surveying the estate, his hands clasped behind his back and his stance wide. When he turned at her entrance, a displeased frown darkened his face, which only grew deeper when he cast an assessing glance over her, clearly finding her lacking. She didn’t have to be told how this man was related to Shay—she knew with one glance. He resembled Shay’s late father too much to be anyone other than his paternal uncle. So much so that her heart stuttered as terrible memories of her first visit to Ravenscroft assaulted her.
“Lord Malcolm.” Despite her nervousness, she forced a bright smile and came forward, her hands extended in warm greeting. “Welcome to Ravenscroft Manor.”
A soft humph from him joined a patronizing smile, and he merely looked at her hands, keeping his own clasped behind his back. “No need to welcome me. This was my first home. I grew up here.”
“Of course, you did.” She kept her smile firmly in place and lowered her hands to her sides. She waited a moment for him to bow, but he remained solidly upright. Not wanting him to see her reaction to that bit of rudeness, she said, “I’m so pleased to meet you, Lord Malcolm. Malvern was just saying last evening that we should invite you to visit.”
Shay had said no such thing. He hadn’t even mentioned he had an uncle. But Shay’s family was now hers, and she wanted the man to feel welcome.
“Malvern, is it?” he muttered, his patronizing smile growing tighter. “That makes you the new duchess, then, doesn’t it?” Another critical look slid over her. This time, instead of a frown, he seemed to find the idea of her highly amusing. “The Duchess of Malvern.” He chuckled. “My, my!”
“We’re family. Address me as Sophie, please, if I may call you Uncle?”
“You may not, Your Grace.”
The coldness of that rivaled the winter day outside. Sophie pulled in a deep breath and somehow kept her smile from wavering. If this man had been anyone else but Shay’s relative, she would have walked out.
But she couldn’t. As much as it dismayed her to learn, he was now her uncle, too. So she had no choice but to engage in meaningless conversation and pray the tea tray arrived soon so she could leave him to change.
She gestured toward the sofa for him to sit. “I hope you didn’t find the journey too uncomfortable in this freezing weather.”
He remained right where he stood. “I’ve lived in the area my entire life. Winter doesn’t bother me, and my home at Halston Hall is only three hours away. I was barely in the carriage long enough to feel any chill at all. But then, I suppose someone from further south—say, London—would find it trying, perhaps enough to go fleeing right back to the south.”
He cackled a dry laugh at his own joke, which forced Sophie to smile politely, although she was certain the joke was about her.
The amusement in his eyes turned icy. “I’d heard impossible rumors that my nephew had married an earl’s daughter. Impossible because Malvern never leaves Ravenscroft Manor, and because no earl in his right mind would offer his daughter in marriage to my nephew.”
No, that should have him tossed out. How much of a breach of propriety would it be if she had the footman who followed her through the gardens toss this man out on his aristocratic arse? Right on a pile of steaming compost, too.
“So I had to hurry here to discover for myself that the gossip wasn’t true, that the same earl’s daughter had thrown over her intended banker to marry a hermit.”
Sophie’s mouth fell open, not only at the insults leveled at both her and Shay, but…how on earth did he know about her engagement to James Norton?
This time when he raked his gaze over her, open hostility pricked everywhere he looked. “I fear I am wrong in believing in impossibilities.”
“Happily, my lord, you are.” The smile she gave him was genuine. “My father, the Earl of Granville, was very much in his right mind when he consented for Malvern to marry me.” Then she lied, “I’ve never been happier in my life since marrying Seamus and coming here to live. It’s already become my dear home.”
“For now, anyway.”
Cold warning prickled her skin, and she caught herself before a shudder gripped her.
“For always ,” Shay corrected as he strode into the room unannounced, yanking off his leather riding gloves as he came. He stopped at her side and leaned over to place a kiss to her temple. “This will always be our home, won’t it, Sophie?”
“Of course!” Malcolm waved his hand as if to correct himself. “I was referring to all the other Malvern properties, as well as the London townhouse. Eventually, you’ll visit all of them, I’m certain.”
Shay’s lips quirked at that, but instead of commenting, he turned his attention to Sophie. “I see you’ve met my wife, Sophie. Sophie—” He squeezed her hand as it dangled at her side. “—my Uncle Malcolm.”
“We’ve been having a lovely conversation,” Malcolm interjected, offering Sophie a wide smile that did nothing to put her at ease. If anything, it only increased the chill snaking down her spine.
“Yes, Lord Malcolm,” she agreed. “Quite interesting.”
“Please—call me Uncle Malcolm. I insist.”
Oh, she wanted to smack him!
As if Shay sensed the tension between them, he gestured at the hall. “Shall we go to the study, Uncle? A case of Martell arrived while I was in London, straight from Cognac. I’m certain you’d welcome a drink by the fire after your long trip.”
“I would. The journey was damnably freezing.” He gave an exaggerated shiver that left Sophie staring. “But I couldn’t stay at home. I wanted to meet my new niece too much to wait.”
When Shay began to lead him out of the room, casting a knowing glance back at Sophie, Malcolm stopped and made a show of making a deep bow to her with a wide sweep of his arm, one that would have done Queen Charlotte justice.
“Duchess.” Then he stepped forward to take Sophie’s hands and give them a squeeze. “Sophie. My dear, I offer you a warm welcome to the family!”
Her mouth fell open, speechless, as she watched him follow Shay out of the drawing room.