Chapter 7
“Your Grace, it is an honor to finally meet you. Please, let me give you a tour of the house. His Grace has already retired to his bedchambers. I shall show you to yours,” the housekeeper, Mrs. Gaines, a kindly-looking, birdlike woman in her fifties, declared.
With spectacles perched on the bridge of her sharp nose and expressive hands, the housekeeper did not wait for Madeline to respond. She simply pivoted on one polished heel to commence a brisk march from the foyer.
“The East Wing is the part of the house most guests would see, but the West Wing has the library,” Mrs. Gaines chirped as she flew through the corridors.
“We have been fighting a losing battle with dust in there, but it is worth it. It is one of the finest libraries in the whole country. Oh, do try to keep up, Your Grace. See all the things that we need to explore? The rugs are all Persian and delicate. The servants use only a specific type of broom on them. Then there are the portraits, though we can get by well enough by breezing through them. Some have very sour looks on their faces.”
Madeline had to hop a little to keep up, constricted by the silk of her dress.
She would probably have had a better chance of enjoying the tour in her riding clothes.
She felt like Mrs. Gaines’ trailing shadow, her eyes trying to scan everything from the tapestries to the marble floors.
Mrs. Gaines still flitted about like a woman possessed. Did she have anywhere else to go?
“And the children! Have you met them? The little terrors, I mean... The little darlings should be in the nursery at the moment, but I will not be surprised if they manage to escape again. Mr. Alexander knows how to hide himself in the smallest corners, and Miss Emily has wit that belongs to a much older child. Now, this corridor leads to the music room, but there is a chimney draft that we must resolve, but we have not done so. Mind that floorboard. Yes, that one. It squeaks terribly, so.”
Mrs. Gaines seemed very efficient in her job, but Madeline could not fathom why her new husband could not spare a little time to show her Huntington House himself. Were they to live as strangers?
The house was a marvel of art and architecture, with its marble floors, paintings, and expensive rugs.
However, it was also a tomb of silence, at least the first wing was.
The place smelled like cedar and beeswax, and for some reason, despair.
Madeline huffed a breath, eager to rid herself of the bleakness.
She better appreciated the chaos in her family’s house, with arguments at its worst and music and laughter at its best. Even in their darkest moments, they still managed to laugh.
No, I am being unfair. I have just arrived at Huntington, and I am already judging it.
“Why did His Grace leave so abruptly before showing me the house himself? Did he have any matters to tend to? Will we be sharing supper later?”
Madeline could not help but ask all those questions. She was truly curious. It was not just a means of complaining or protesting.
“His Grace is not fond of... tours. I believe he must have already received his dinner in his rooms, since he had arranged for separate meals. He told me to have your meal ready in your room and to prepare a bath to soothe the fatigue. Your Grace, this way.”
Madeline followed obediently. Her jaw felt tight from clenching. She was not used to this level of tension, so she could not smile.
She could handle hostility, and she could handle confrontation. But solitude and uncertainty?
These were two things she had problems with. She did not like that he had just abandoned her right after their wedding. But this was the life that she was in now. She would have to do what she could to make it as happy as she promised her sisters and herself it would be.
During the carriage ride, Kenneth had barely spoken to her. He had been content watching the scenery change while resting with his arms folded over his chest. Madeline knew better than to expect love declarations from her husband, but she had at least hoped for some polite conversation.
“Oh, well,” she whispered. “He must have been quite tired from the day.”
Mrs. Gaines led her to her bedchamber. It was spacious and beautiful, with a bed too large for her. It was a marvel of silk and velvet. The room was already warm, with a hearty hearth promising a cozy night.
“Here is your bedchamber, Your Grace,” the housekeeper announced. “It is adjacent to His Grace’s own. I shall send you your new maid, Gertie, to assist you with your dress. A bath has already been prepared for you. Meanwhile, breakfast is served at eight. His Grace expects punctuality.”
Madeline frowned. Eight? She was an early riser herself, but she knew the rest of the ton preferred late breakfasts. It was even considered unfashionable to eat too early. She suspected that there was more to the hour than what was said. It was intimidation.
“Thank you, Mrs. Gaines,” Madeline replied sweetly.
When the door closed behind her, Madeline let out a loud exhale. It seemed she had been holding her breath for hours, from the moment she waited to find out who her groom was until she was deposited into his house.
“He is crude,” she complained to her new room. “A barbarian dressed in fine clothes. Does he not know the proper custom in receiving a spouse? He still thinks he is living here alone?”
Wait. No. He had his niece and nephew with him, and maybe even his brother. So, what was that all about? The more she thought about it, the more she wondered if she could still keep her jovial personality in a place like that.
Madeline’s eyes darted to the bath, but she squeezed her eyes shut and, with a determined voice, uttered, “No. I will not be ignored. This is now my house, too.”
The new duchess would not wait for her maid. She had to confront her husband. If he thought that she would agree to a loveless marriage without communication like that, he had another thing coming. She would not let the sun rise on her new life without her being heard.
She stepped into the corridor. It did not even take long before she was in front of the double doors to his sanctuary. There, she knocked gently.
Silence.
“Your Grace?” she called out.
Nothing.
“Kenneth? It is very important that we speak. This will not do.”
The man could not even deign to give her a one-word answer. Anger rose hot within her chest. She was not a servant in this house. Yes, she came from a family whose reputation was in ashes, but she was a person who deserved respect.
Madeline pushed the handle merely to test it. She did not expect his door to be unlocked.
She stepped inside. The room was neat and orderly. It was only slightly bigger than her own room, but perhaps he needed more space for those books on the shelves that Portia would certainly be envious of.
Everything was in its rightful place. Everything, including his several pairs of boots by the wardrobe, was polished. The tidiness of the room was almost an assault on her. Her room back home was always a mess.
“He is not even in his room,” she muttered as she walked toward the massive four-poster bed.
Her bed was huge, but his own was even bigger. Did he toss and turn at night? Did he sleep fully dressed? The thought of other activities in his bed made her blush.
“I am pretty certain I directed Mrs. Gaines to deposit you straight to your rooms.”
“Your Grace, I...” Madeline spun around so quickly she almost tripped on the hem of her dress. Perhaps it was a terrible idea not to have waited for her maid, after all. She felt her face turn cold and pale.
The duke was standing by a small door, which seemed to lead to a private bath.
He was dripping wet, wrapped in only one white drying sheet around his waist. The sheet seemed too small around him, displaying his broad chest and corded muscles.
His body still emanated steam and the scent of his soap.
Everything about him seemed perfect, just like his orderly rooms. However, Madeline had to remind herself that his demeanor was anything but.
It was clear, though, that this man was not the sort who only stayed within the confines of his study.
This was a man who knew how to ride a horse and use his hands for labor.
He had never told her these things, but she just knew.
The evidence was in the broad set of his shoulders, the corded strength of his arms, and the powerful lines of his thighs, barely concealed by the drying sheet that seemed wholly inadequate for the task.
Staring at someone was rude. But how could she not be allowed to stare at her husband when he looked like that without his clothes on? Blood rushed to Madeline’s face as she realized how her husband made her pulse race.
Kenneth did not look in the least embarrassed. He moved slowly and deliberately, as if enjoying the scene.
“Ah, I see what this is about. Could you not wait for our wedding night?” he teased, his stern lips forming a small smirk. “Or are you simply eager to break all the rules presented to you?”
Madeline could feel her blush deepening, but anger somehow grounded her, much to her relief.
“I... I am not here for that,” she snapped, even as her eyes flickered to the sight of water droplets tracing the hard muscles of his abdomen. “I am here to tell you just how rude and insufferable you were... are. In fact, I have not met anyone who is quite so... so...”
“So what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, but not making any move to dress himself. Then again, what would Madeline do if he dressed in front of her?
I would probably faint.
“You... you left me standing at the front door without even giving me a tour of the house or introducing me to your staff, except for Mrs. Gaines. You hardly spoke to me in the carriage. Is that how you treat your new wife?”
Kenneth reached for a robe and finally wrapped it around himself.
He pulled the sheet from under it, thankfully, and rested it on a velvet armchair.
Was he trying to prove himself less uncouth than she thought?
He approached her slowly, like a predator about to pounce. His feet made no sound on the rug.
“Is there any point to this discussion?” he rasped, the humor completely gone from his face.
“We have signed a contract. We have exchanged our vows. Now, you are in Huntington House with a bath drawn for you, which is getting colder as we speak. Certainly, Gertie is now beside herself for not being able to do her duty.”
“W-what?”
For a moment, Madeline’s mind turned to Gertie. She did not know that a lady’s maid might think it a failure not to be able to help her mistress bathe. Was he lying about that?
“The point of this discussion is common decency! Having a conversation and dinner with each other! I am, after all, your wife. You should at least—”
“At least what?” he interrupted. “You should not have sent that letter if you dreamed of romance and sweet words.” His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to her.
He was so near she could almost feel the heat of his body.
“I was under the impression that the letter was from a sensible woman who believes in duty and discretion. It felt like it was from someone who knows exactly what is expected of her and is willing to deliver. What happened to that woman?”
“I did not send that letter!” Madeline blurted out. “My grandmama wrote it and signed it with my name. She knew that I would never choose a husband in such a manner! Like a business transaction!”
Kenneth froze, then. Something in the air changed. “Your grandmother wrote it?”
“Yes, she did. I am certain you have an idea why she would do that. Yes, she is a woman of duty and discretion. She would do anything to ensure the futures of her granddaughters, and I? I would do anything for my family.”
“This is unfortunate,” Kenneth huffed, with a bitter laugh. “However, the deed is now done. Even though you may not find the romance you were hoping for, and I never expected to be screamed at in my own bedroom, we are now married.”
“I was not screaming!” Madeline yelled.
“If that is not screaming, I am afraid of what might constitute screaming,” Kenneth countered. “Still, you must accept the fact that you are now the Duchess of Huntington and certain behaviors are expected of you.”
Madeline looked at her husband. For a split second, she thought she saw the wariness rising behind the coldness of his eyes. In the moment of getting that glimpse, her soft demeanor returned, only to make a plea.
“Please, Your Grace,” she begged. “We will be tied to each other for the rest of our lives. Can we not at least try to make the best of it? We could discover more of each other, even become friends...”
“I do not have time for friends,” Kenneth replied coldly. “I did not marry for companionship. I expect far more important things from you.”
When he took another step, Madeline could no longer breathe. There was barely any space between them now.
“As you already know, I require a duchess who knows how to efficiently manage a household. I want someone who can take care of my brother’s children, make them behave like civilized members of society.
Their father, your father’s apparent old friend, seems like a lost cause.
Most of all,” he continued, “I require an heir. Those are the terms of your duty.”
Madeline managed to temper a gasp. “Is that all I am to you? A nursemaid, a governess, and a broodmare? Are you always so... transactional?”
“Transactional?” he echoed. “Yes. Absolutely.”
Kenneth reached out. Madeline held her breath.
He did not grab her. Instead, his thumb traced slowly from her chin up along her jaw, unhurried and deliberate, as if he had every right to touch her and knew it.
His skin was rough against hers, and the contrast made her stomach drop.
She could feel the heat still radiating from his body, smell the cedar of his soap, and it was making it very difficult to remember why she was angry with him in the first place.
“You told me the things you wanted to say, Madeline,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips. “Now that you have said them, I suggest you go back to your bedchambers to prepare.”
Madeline looked into his eyes, trying to read his thoughts. Her heart hammered in her chest. It was like a forest fire had been lit within her.
“Prepare?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. There was also a little tremble to her voice. “Prepare for what?”