Chapter 2
The atelier stood at the far edge of the estate gardens, beyond the formal hedges and gravel paths that Lady Ashby ruled with military precision. Here, the land softened into something more welcoming, something that felt a little like home.
Gabriel Ashworth, Duke of Ravenfield, rounded a corner with his son, Arthur at his side.
The governess had long since wandered off to the steward’s rooms, leaving the father and son to their own devices. Not that Arthur did not need her, but it had become a tradition of sorts for Arthur to spend time with Gabriel whenever he visited the atelier.
The arrangement had begun years ago and had never been questioned.
Arthur was permitted liberties there that were not allowed elsewhere.
He could trail paint across his fingers, leave charcoal smudges on his cuffs, and chatter endlessly while Gabriel worked.
No tutor interrupted. No footman reminded him of proper deportment.
No member of the household dared suggest the boy might be happier elsewhere.
The atelier belonged to Gabriel and Arthur alone, even if the building and the lands were in Lady Ashby’s name. Ashby Park was a short ride from Ravenfield, and they made the trip as often as they could from their home.
“Are we going to paint again today, Papa?” Arthur asked in his observant manner as they walked the path that was overshadowed by tall birch trees. His floppy brown hair moved in the wind while his bright blue eyes sparkled.
Catherine’s eyes.
Gabriel remembered his late wife fondly whenever he looked at the boy. The atelier had not been there when she had been alive, but he had claimed the spot after her passing as a way of keeping her alive.
“I thought you might like to try your hand at charcoal drawing. What do you think of that?” Gabriel asked in his deep tone as they approached the front door.
The atelier itself was a large stone structure with many windows to allow in the natural light.
It had taken Gabriel months to design, but once it had been completed, he had felt a sense of utter accomplishment.
His wife had been a niece of Lady Ashby’s, giving him a connection to the grounds that she had so loved as a child.
“But Papa, what shall I draw?” Arthur drew his attention back to the present.
Smiling down at his son, Gabriel placed his hand on the brass handle and opened the door. “Anything that your heart desires.” He pushed the door open and allowed his son to step inside first.
The inside of the atelier has been painted a dusty pink.
Catherine’s favorite color. It always did his heart good to remind himself that she had been real, and not just some fantasy he had dreamed up.
It had been two years since his wife had died, but time had not been able to erase the pain from his heart and mind.
Gently tugging on his sleeve, Arthur drew his attention back down. “Papa, were you thinking of Mama again?” He tilted his head to the side with more emotional intelligence than any child his age.
Gabriel reached down and gently drew his fingers through the boy’s hair. “Yes, I wish you could have known her longer. You are a lot like her.”
Arthur’s lips curled into a proud smile. Hearing that he was just like his mother… for Arthur there was no greater compliment on the face of the earth.
Gabriel could still recall her dark hair and the soft tendrils that would hang down the back of her neck. She had a wonderful laugh and the brightest blue eyes that he had ever seen, eyes that she had given to their son.
“Perhaps I shall draw a picture of Mama’s favorite flower!” Arthur ambled over to the table where the art supplies had already been neatly arranged. The steward knew Gabriel very well and had, over the years, become accustomed to his needs.
Shutting the door behind him, Gabriel walked over to the wall where orchids had been painted.
Catherine’s favorite flower.
So much of her had been built into the atelier that he could sometimes feel her presence. He had barely turned toward the drawing table in the center of the room when the door opened again. Surprisingly, it was Lady Ashby who came walking in with her cane.
“You are a creature of habit as much as I am, Your Grace. I knew that I would be able to find you here,” she said without so much as a greeting.
Gabriel turned to her while Arthur waved a greeting. “I am surprised to see you here, Lady Ashby. You do not usually come down during your tea.” He walked over to the window and began to examine all of the flowers that were growing in pots.
Placing both hands on the top of her cane, Lady Ashby took a deep breath. “I do not usually like to venture out this far, as you know, my foot cannot stand it, but I must speak with you at once.” Her tone was stiff and commanding, forcing Gabriel to stop what he was doing and look up.
Lady Ashby pursed her lips in a manner that let him know the seriousness of her intentions.
The duke cleared his throat and looked at his son. “Arthur, why do you not go and find something to use for inspiration outside? I shall come and find you shortly,” he said kindly.
Being the ever-obedient son, Arthur got to his feet and immediately scampered from the room, leaving Gabriel alone with Lady Ashby.
Once the door had firmly shut, Lady Ashby turned to him with her eyebrows raised. “You do not wish to trouble your son with my request?”
Gabriel shook his head and gestured toward the two chairs that stood by the desk in the center of the room. “I do not wish to tell him anything until matters are settled.”
Nodding, Lady Ashby made her way over to the seat on the opposite side of the desk and sat with a great deal of difficulty.
“That is just the problem with the matter, Your Grace, the matter needs to be settled. You have known for quite some time now that it is my wish to have Cecily settled. She has been at Ashby Park for a while now, and it is time that she is married.”
Gabriel stilled at her words, taking the seat opposite hers.
“Do not act as if I have said something shocking, Your Grace. Cecily is settled, and it has been two years since my dear Catherine left us. It is only right that the two of you should be married.”
He sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh and ran his hand over his chin. “What is it that you would ask of me at present, Lady Ashby?”
“For you to call on my niece in earnest and start properly courting her in the eyes of the ton. I wish for the two of you to be engaged by the end of the summer.”
Three months.
The realization came flooding down on him like the tolling of a gong.
The summer had only just begun, and he was to be engaged again by the end of it.
It was not that he disliked Cecily, who was Catherine’s cousin; on the contrary, he thought of her as a rather fine young lady; he just did not feel the connection with her that he had with Catherine.
How could he when he had only just met her after the scandal had followed her from London?
Lady Ashby shifted in her seat. “More than enough time has passed for the two of you to have come to terms with the arrangement. You need a new duchess, and Cecily needs a suitable marriage to place this… this matter behind her.” She waved her hand in the air as if she could erase her own words.
“And how does Cecily feel about the arrangement and the haste with which it is to be approached?” He placed the tips of his fingers together and regarded her carefully from across the table.
“It does not matter how she feels. If she had not been so foolish as to attempt to elope in the first place, we would not be in this mess. I refuse to speak that man’s name, but if I ever set my eyes upon him, he will wish that he had made better choices in life.
Now, I have attempted to keep the scandal at bay for as long as I can.
People are beginning to whisper, and something needs to be done as soon as possible.
Your marriage will secure her future and extinguish the rumors. ”
But neither of us loves the other.
Gabriel knew very well that the basis of love for marriage was almost unheard of, but he had experienced it with Catherine. It was difficult to find, but not impossible.
“I have said my peace, Your Grace, and if you wish for me to honor my side of the bargain and lengthen the land boundary, then you shall honor your side as well.” She placed both of her hands on her cane and stood.
“If you would excuse me, I would very much like to get on with my tea now. This matter has taken up far too much of my time as it is.” She turned away from him and left the atelier as quickly and silently as she had entered.
What am I going to do now?
The duke looked around the room, allowing his eyes to land on the unfurnished landscape at the other end.
There was so much that he still needed to add to the painting in question, yet he had always thought that he had all the time in the world.
That did not seem to be the case any longer.
He could marry Cecily and just be done with it, yet a part of him was hesitant.
Time was not a luxury that Lady Ashby was willing to grant him, but he wanted love again, not just some arrangement
Not just any love, but Catherine’s love.
He sighed heavily before placing his hands on the armrests of his chair and pushing himself up.
There was not much left that could be done.
He made his way from the atelier, placing his hands behind his back as he began to look for his son.
His thoughts were troubled, but not so much as he assumed that Cecily’s were troubled.
He had not asked, but he was more than certain that she had been in love with the young man with whom she had attempted to elope.
That poor…
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when he found himself colliding with something or someone.
Greenish-gray eyes flashed across his vision, along with chestnut hair, as he instinctively reached out and stopped the other person from falling.
“My goodness!” A feminine voice called out when he caught her around the waist, grimacing from the pain that shot through his hip.
The old war wound never truly bothered him, yet it did act up now and again when he least expected it.
“I… I am so sorry!” The woman looked up at him, her beautiful eyes wide with shock. She was a slim young woman with fine features and strikingly beautiful skin that left Gabriel speechless in the moment as he stared down at her.
She is like an angel.
The thought caught him off guard as his brow instantly creased into a frown.
Pulling her up straight, he cleared his throat and set her back on her feet.
“You ought to be more careful, madam,” he said gruffly, not liking the way she had made him feel within the span of a moment.
Never since his wife had died had he ever thought of any woman as strikingly beautiful.
Her pale cheeks flushed with color as she swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “I do beg your pardon…” Her voice trailed off as she clearly struggled to find the correct term of address.
“Your Grace will suffice.” He once again placed his hands behind his back. “I am Gabriel Ashford, Duke of Ravenfield.”
Her lips parted slightly as he seemed to come alive again and curtsied. “My goodness, Your Grace. I must apologize again for my clumsy behavior. I was looking for my daughter, you see…” she seemed breathless as she explained.
“Are you visiting Ashby Park?” He suddenly asked, not understanding where the woman had suddenly come from.
Lifting her hands to her cheeks, the woman suddenly gasped. “I never introduced myself.” She curtsied again as if she did not know what to do with herself. “My name is Alice Voss. I have been employed by Lady Ashby as her companion. I brought my daughter, Clara, along with me…”
“Hence, you are looking for her…” he finished for her.
Alice nodded, seeming a little more relieved than she had been before.
“Am I to take it that Lady Ashby has employed a married woman to be her companion?” Gabriel raised his brows. It would not be uncommon for Lady Ashby to do something so against the grain despite her love of everything proper.
“Widowed woman,” Alice said curtly. Alice's answer struck him with unexpected force.
Widowed.
For some reason, the word settled heavily in Gabriel's chest.
He inclined his head. “My apologies, Mrs. Voss.”
“There is no need.” Her smile was polite, though sadness lingered briefly in her eyes before disappearing. “It has been several months now.”
For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.
Gabriel found himself studying her more closely than was proper.
She could not have been much older than twenty-and-seven, perhaps younger.
There was no bitterness in her expression, only a quiet weariness he recognized all too well.
It was the look of someone who had loved deeply and lost something they could never truly replace.
His chest tightened unexpectedly. “My condolences,” he said at last.
A faint smile touched her lips. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
Their eyes locked for a moment as Gabriel saw in her gaze something that he had been trying to hide for a very long time. Time had dulled the ache of grief, but it had never truly left him. There was a pain that only someone who had experienced loss could truly understand.
“I think I should try to find my daughter now,” she finally spoke again when the silence between them seemed to linger.
“Ah, yes, I think my son should be around her somewhere…” He turned away from her, looking around at the empty garden around them. Turing back, almost colliding with her again.
“My apologies,” she tried to step past him, but found herself being blocked.
“No, no, it was entirely my fault.” He attempted to step to the left and found himself facing her again.
Soft giggles floated on the breeze, and both parents found themselves looking around.
“It looks like they are dancing,” a little voice giggled.
A second voice followed, and Gabriel instantly recognized his son. “I do not think that my Papa is much of a dancer!”
Alice looked around in confusion. “Clara?” she called out, eliciting another onslaught of giggles.
Shaking his head, Gabriel looked up to see the two young faces smiling down at them from above. He had completely forgotten that they were standing directly beneath the treehouse that he had built for Arthur.
“Oh no, Papa sees us!” Arthur hissed before pulling the little girl alongside him.