Chapter 26
Their travel had been a very long four days, and everyone rejoiced when they pulled up to the final inn of their journey. They had arrived in five carriages, nearly bursting at the seams, inquiring if rooms were available.
The kind owners, Mr. and Mrs. Tewksbury, apologized after informing Royce that only four rooms were vacant.
Royce assured them it was not an issue and they would be more than happy to share. After receiving their keys, the Duchess took it upon herself to sort everyone between the four rooms.
The younger children slept on makeshift beds in a room with their governess’, with Imogen and Archibald in their own room just down the hall. Samuel squished himself into the larger of the rooms with Royce, Desmond, Grayson, and their two older cousins, Ace and Theodore.
Maggie, Della, and the Duchess shared a room containing a large bed and a small cot. Della had insisted the Duchess and Maggie take the bed, choosing the cot for herself. This would be the first time since they married that she and Royce had not slept next to each other.
It had been a little lonely, but the three of them had fun staying up till the wee hours talking.
It was a blessing Della’s father was required to remain for a few extra days because of some unavoidable meetings, which eased the need for more rooms. And Tilly stayed behind to act as a travel companion.
Aden had sent a message before they left to inform Royce he would be delayed but would arrive as soon as he was able.
The following day, the entire brood descended upon the owners once again as they made their way into a private dining room for breakfast. As soon as they had reduced the food to mere crumbs, they all filed back into their awaiting carriages.
Royce settled the bill with Mr. and Mrs. Tewksbury for their lodging, meals, and even gave them a little extra. Despite their attempts to decline the amount, Royce insisted and refused to budge. Stating that anyone who had the courage to deal with his family deserved a token of his thanks.
A few hours later, everyone piled back out of the carriages—some looking tired and some looking like they wanted to punch something. Della just laughed as she looked up at the regal fa?ade of Derrington Chase; she had forgotten what a magnificent structure it was.
She remembered thinking the same thing when she attended a two-week retreat the Duke and Duchess had hosted. There had been excursions to the ruins of a castle, outings to town, archery, games, and all manner of food.
On the final evening, they had organized a masquerade ball, inviting people of all ranks and stations. Sadly, all the children were too young to attend, even Royce and Aden.
Della’s fondest memory of that time had been when she and Maggie had snuck out of their beds while the ball was in full swing, staring down at the masks and costumes the women wore and the handsomely dressed men.
The Duke had caught them poking their heads through the railing of the stairs, looking into the ballroom and escorted them back to their room. He had not been mad; in fact, he had promised when they were older, he would throw another ball, just like this one, so they could attend.
“Every princess should be able to go to a masquerade ball,” he said, tucking them into bed.
When all this mess was behind them, Della made a note to herself to plan a masquerade ball. It would be the first large formal event she would host here, and an homage to the late Duke.
And it would fulfill the dreams of two little girls who once got caught out of bed so they could witness something magical.
Over the next few days, Della became accustomed to the inner workings of Derrington Chase, and quickly realized what worked for her home in London did not always work for an estate nearly three times the size. She tried to defer to the Duchess on several occasions, but she refused, saying it was now Della’s job to change things as she saw fit.
Most women who held such a position of power would probably have balked at having their groundwork changed, but not the Duchess. She had been more than happy to relinquish all the responsibilities to Della, stating she had sacrificed enough.
“Keep the tradition, but put your own special touch on it,” the Duchess had said. “That way you can leave your mark and show respect to the woman who have come before you.”
Once her father, Tilly, and Aden arrived, Della had done her best to keep things in order—including her first family dinner. Back in London, their cook, Mrs. Barlow, had kindly sent all the food and supplies that had been purchased when they had completed the menu.
But when it came time for Mrs. Campbell to prepare the dinner, she had informed Della that several things had gone missing.
Evidently, the Derrington men’s childhood penchant for sneaking into the kitchens and pilfering anything they could find had not changed in the slightest.
Della had laughed at the look on their faces when they realized what they had done and they immediately apologized, offering to go into town to replace everything.
Della sent Grayson, Desmond, Ace, and Theodore into town to find what they could or something that could be used as a replacement.
On the evening that followed, the dinner had been meticulously prepared according to her exact specifications. The table, under the careful guidance of Scrivens, was arranged with meticulous attention to detail. And the food was exquisite, each dish bursting with delectable flavors.
The addition of the younger set at the dinner table had been Royce’s idea. Because it had been a while since all the Derringtons had gathered in one place, he requested the whole family have a meal together. It was a wonderful dinner, and everything had gone smoothly—at first.
Della had asked Desmond why he had named the horse Biscuit, and he revealed one summer while they were here at the estate, he had taken to a horse named Petunia. He visited her every day, sneaking her biscuits when the caretaker was not looking.
He noticed the horse had become plump, and one day, he found her lying on her side in the stable. Thinking he had made her ill from the biscuits he had been feeding her, he had run to get his father. But when they returned, they saw the foal she had just given birth to.
Their father had chuckled at the irony of the foal’s color, which resembled that of a freshly baked biscuit, and thus the name stuck.
They all laughed at Desmond’s retelling and were about to start their next course when a potato was catapulted down the table, landing with a plop in a wine glass.
One thing led to another, which resulted in wine being spilled on Desmond’s lap, Maggie’s toes being stepped upon by Desmond in his bid to stand up, and several guilty-looking children who were reprimanded and sent to their room for the rest of the evening.
Della had not known what to do, but the Duchess had quickly—and impressively—managed the situation with no further casualty. Once the children had left and everyone had returned, they continued their meal, sharing funny family stories about growing up at the estate.
After dinner was finished, they all chose to retire for the night.
The sky was a brilliant blue as tiny wisps of white clouds passed gently by, making everyone eager to get out and enjoy the day. After partaking in breakfast, they all elected to part ways; some went into town, some got a book from the library and sat in the garden, while others chose various things of interest.
Della, Royce, and Aden decided to walk down to the river that ran behind the estate.
They headed toward a path that had been cut down the middle of a field full of wildflowers and wisteria trees. Della stopped here and there, adding a wide variety of flowers to her basket to be used as an arrangement at the dining room table later that evening.
Della held her hand to her stomach. Breakfast had not been sitting well with her since they left London. Around dinner time, everything always seemed to subside, but the next day, it would start all over again.
“Della?” Royce looked at her, concerned.
“I will be fine,” Della assured him as they continued along the path.
They had almost made it down to the river when they heard someone coming up behind them. Maggie had caught up and stopped when she saw Aden.
“Oh great, you are here,” Maggie said sarcastically.
“We were just discussing the letter Royce received from the constable about how the investigation is going,” Della interjected, before a fight could break out between Maggie and Aden.
“And?” Maggie asked.
“The only thing he will say is that someone had paid him for his services,” Royce grumpily replied, looking out over the lake.
Royce discussed the letter and what else the constable had figured out, which turned out to be bloody nothing. The man, who still refused to talk or give his name, would not give them any other information than what they already knew.
“The have set a tentative date for his trial, but it looks like they will deport him.” Royce said.
“Could you not just bribe him?” Maggie asked.
“Oh yes, try to out-bribe the person who not only paid the man to harm Della, but also ensured his silence. Short of giving him his freedom, what would make him want to talk?” Aden asked sarcastically.
“Well, if you are so smart, then what do you suggest?” Maggie crossed her arms as she glared daggers at Aden. Walking past him toward the lake, Maggie stepped into a hole, causing her slipper to fall off.
“Lose something?” Aden teased as he bent over and came up holding the slipper.
“Give me my slipper back,” Maggie demanded, holding out her hand.
“You did not say the magic word…Margaret.”
“I hate being called Margaret, you self-important buffoon.” She stomped her foot for emphasis. “I said give me my slipper back…please,” she ground out through clinched teeth.
“No, I do not think I will.” The corner of Aden’s mouth kicked up in a devilish smile as he tossed it back and forth between his hands.
“No? No?!” Maggie yelled. “Why you…you…”
“Cat got your tongue?” Aden asked mockingly.
Maggie took a deep breath, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. With a huff, she turned back toward the house and stumbled. Hopping on one foot, she tore the remaining offending slipper off and flung it at Aden, hitting him squarely on the side of his head.
“There!” Maggie yelled. “Now you have a matching pair!” She picked up her skirts and sprinted back through the wildflowers and into the house.
“That was poorly done, Aden,” Royce reprimanded his best friend. “Whatever you two are fighting about—“Royce held up his hand before Aden had the chance to reply—“and do not say slippers. You need to fix it or call a truce. For as of right now, there are other issues we need to deal with.”
“Nothing is going on between us. She is a thorn in my side,” Aden said irritably, kicking at some flowers. He picked up the other slipper and put the set into his pocket.
“You are like a brother to me, Aden, but that is my sister. If I am forced to choose a side, it will always be hers.”
Aden nodded, looking like a chastised child. “For what it is worth, I am sorry, and I will try to make amends. If she will let me.” Aden said nothing further and fell into step with Royce and Della toward the river.