Chapter Fourteen
The next morning, the morning dawned clear and bright, with sunlight spilling across the lawns and lingering upon the dew-covered gardens beyond the windows.
Anthony was already finishing his breakfast when Evangeline entered the dining room.
For a brief moment, he found himself absurdly relieved that she had accepted his invitation.
The past couple of days had been an exercise in frustration.
Whenever he appeared in one room, she somehow managed to be elsewhere. If he took breakfast in the dining room, she remained in her chambers. If he spent the afternoon in the library, she discovered pressing reasons to be elsewhere.
She had been avoiding him.
Not successfully enough to prevent him from noticing, but with admirable determination nonetheless.
This morning, however, she appeared composed and entirely herself.
A pale green walking dress complemented her fair colouring, and a simple straw bonnet hung from her arm while she poured herself a cup of tea.
"Good morning, Your Grace."
"Duchess."
A faint smile touched her mouth.
After breakfast, they departed from London in a carriage bound for Blackwood's principal village.
The morning air carried the scent of summer grass and wildflowers as the carriage rolled through the countryside. Beyond the windows stretched fields of wheat and barley ripening beneath the sun. Stone walls divided the farmland, while sheep grazed peacefully upon distant hillsides.
Evangeline spent the journey studying everything.
Not with the idle curiosity of a visitor, but with genuine interest.
"How many families live in the village?" she asked as they crossed a small stone bridge.
"Approximately one hundred and fifty."
"And the school serves all of their children?"
"Most of them."
She frowned thoughtfully. "How many attend regularly?"
"That depends upon the season."
"Harvest?"
"Attendance declines."
"Because the children help at home."
He nodded as Evangeline turned to look out the window.
"What happens to widows whose husbands worked the estate?"
Anthony found himself unexpectedly amused. The woman approached estate management the way a military commander approached battle.
One question after another, no detail too small.
"They receive assistance from the estate where necessary."
"What sort of assistance?"
"It varies."
She nodded thoughtfully. "And the schoolmistress?"
"What about her?"
"Is she competent?"
Anthony laughed softly. "Mrs Briggs would be deeply offended to hear you ask that, although she would applaud your concern."
Evangeline smiled. "I merely wish to know whether she requires help."
The answer did not surprise him. Nothing about Evangeline's priorities surprised him anymore. What surprised him was how much he admired them.
The village came into view shortly before noon.
A cluster of stone cottages stood around a small green where children chased one another beneath the shade of ancient elm trees. Smoke rose lazily from chimneys, and the distant sound of hammering drifted from the blacksmith's forge.
As soon as the carriage appeared, several villagers paused in their work. Anthony recognised nearly all of them. Old Mr Fletcher mending a gate. The Millers carrying baskets from the baker's shop. Mrs Dobson hanging washing behind her cottage.
People he had known for years.
As he stepped from the carriage, greetings immediately followed.
"Morning, Your Grace."
"Good to see you, sir."
"Lovely day for it."
Anthony returned each greeting with a nod or brief word. While beside him, Evangeline watched carefully.
He suspected she had expected something different.
London saw only the Duke of Blackwood, but the villagers saw something else entirely.
He was the man who approved repairs after storms, the landlord who forgave rent after poor harvests, the boy they had watched grow into a man.
Anthony felt her observing him as they crossed the village green.
Oddly, he found himself hoping she approved of the village and his management of it. The realisation was uncomfortable.
The introductions began almost immediately, and to Anthony's astonishment, Evangeline required almost no assistance whatsoever.
Within minutes she was speaking with families as though she had known them for years.
She knelt beside shy children until they smiled and asked practical questions instead of offering empty sympathy.
Most remarkably, people seemed to trust her immediately.
Anthony watched her speaking with a young mother carrying an infant. The woman relaxed visibly within moments.
Later, Evangeline crouched beside two little girls playing with wooden dolls outside a cottage.
"What are their names?" she asked.
The younger child proudly held them up. "This is Elizabeth."
"And this one?"
The girl considered. "Also Elizabeth."
Evangeline laughed. "Twins then."
The children looked delighted, and Anthony found himself smiling.
"Shall we?" he said, gesturing to the school.
Evangeline nodded. She got up and fell in step beside him.
The village school occupied a modest stone building near the church. Inside, rows of wooden desks faced a blackboard while sunlight streamed through tall windows onto shelves crowded with books and slates.
Mrs Eleanor Briggs greeted them warmly. The schoolmistress possessed the calm authority of a woman accustomed to managing dozens of energetic children.
"Thank you for taking the time to come and see the school," Mrs Briggs said.
"Of course," Evangeline replied. "I am very interested to know how things are faring and whether there is anything you need."
"Additional slates would be helpful," Mrs Briggs admitted.
"And maps," Evangeline said thoughtfully. "Children should know something of the world beyond the village."
The schoolmistress smiled. "I could not agree more."
Anthony found himself making a mental note to order both.
***
The remainder of the morning passed much the same way.
At every stop, Evangeline discovered another problem she wished to solve.
There was a widow whose roof required repair, a family struggling after illness, and a shortage of blankets for the coming winter.
Yet unlike many charitable ladies, she did not simply offer sympathy. She asked questions and sought practical solutions, listening and making notes.
By luncheon, several villagers had already adopted her entirely.
The meal was served in the village assembly room, where local leaders often gathered to discuss estate matters.
As cold meats, fresh bread, cheeses, and summer fruits were laid upon the table, conversation naturally turned toward improvements.
"The widow Carter's roof should be repaired before autumn," Evangeline said.
Anthony nodded. "Agreed."
"And we should order the supplies for the school as soon as possible." She hesitated. "What if we organised winter clothing before the weather turns?"
Anthony looked at her. "It's only May."
"I know." She smiled. "But I wish to be prepared."
Anthony returned the smile. "As you wish, Your Grace."
She sat back, a look of satisfaction on her face.
After lunch, they walked through the formal gardens behind Blackwood Hall. The roses were in full bloom, filling the air with their fragrance. Bees drifted lazily among the flowerbeds while sunlight filtered through ancient trees lining the paths.
For a time, they walked in comfortable silence.
"They love you," Evangeline said after a while.
Anthony glanced sideways. "Who?"
"The villagers."
He looked away. "They respect the title."
"No, they respect you."
Evangeline continued walking beside him. "I saw how they looked at you."
The words settled somewhere deep inside him. Because very few people understood what Blackwood truly meant.
The sacrifices, the responsibilities. Most saw only privilege, but Evangeline saw the work.
"I admire what you've built here," she said quietly.
Anthony stopped walking. The approval in her voice affected him far more than it should have.
Eventually, he cleared his throat. "Thank you."
The words felt inadequate, yet they were all he possessed.
A few moments later they reached a muddy stretch of path where recent rain had softened the ground.
Instinctively, Anthony offered his hand, and Evangeline accepted it without hesitation.
Her fingers settled lightly against his. The contact felt entirely natural.
They continued walking, neither seemingly inclined to let go immediately.