Chapter 6
Roderick walked back to The Stag and Crown with Mr. Pike. He could not get the duchess’ face from his mind. The indignity. The fury. And under all of it, he could see something that was almost like fear.
“So,” Mr. Pike said as they walked. “What is it you intend to do now?”
“I…” Roderick’s voice died in his throat.
“If you had asked me two days ago I would have been able to tell you. Now, I am not sure. I knew there was a widow. You had told me as much when we investigated the estate and what state it was in. You know I had not planned to be here at all, if it were not for…”
“I know,” Mr. Pike said, squeezing Roderick’s shoulder. “Oswin’s illness has taken its toll on you.”
Roderick nodded and closed his eyes.
His mind went back to Millicent’s face the first time Oswin collapsed. The endless procession of physicians visiting the estate. The lack of answers. The mounting expense.
He still remembered the panic in her eyes as she watched their savings disappear, and the tears that came when he insisted on helping her pay.
Soon their savings had been depleted.
Roderick still remembered the sound of Oswin's breathing that first night. Shallow. Rattling. Wrong. It had made his own chest ache in sympathy. He remembered sitting at Oswin’s bedside until dawn, gripping his brother's hand, silently bargaining with God.
He would have given anything at that moment. He very nearly had. The physicians had not been cheap, and the good ones, the ones who actually knew what they were doing rather than simply bleeding a man half to death and calling it treatment, had been costlier still.
He had not regretted a single coin. He would spend it all again without hesitation. But that did not change the fact that the money was gone.
Oswin had received the best care Roderick could afford. He was better, but there was no guarantee that he would not collapse again. Even if he did not, Millicent no longer had the security she once did.
Then, there was Roderick’s business. He had been able to cope when one horse became sick… but five?
Roderick had been in the middle of investigating when a deal that relied on the health of his horses went sour.
The benefactor had believed Roderick was to blame, and would not listen to the myriad of explanations there could have been.
Debt was mounting. He was facing ruin, and he refused to take Millicent down with him.
If Roderick did not claim his inheritance, he was not the only one who would suffer.
He closed his eyes as they walked, remembering the day he had decided to claim his birthright and
called Mr. Pike to come help him. Once he was there, however, it felt different.
“It has been a tough year,” Roderick eventually said.
“It has,” Mr. Pike agreed.
“I am not joyous that I may be bringing that misfortune here,” he said. “If my father had been a good person, if he had done his duty…”
Mr. Pike looked up at him.
Neither wished to finish that sentence.
“If your parents were legally married,” Mr. Pike continued. “Then the late duke’s marriage to the current duchess was never valid. She is not truly a widow, because she was never a wife.”
“The documents we gave her not only show my claim, they erase hers,” Roderick added.
“There is a world where you could have simply presented the marriage document and demand she leaves,” Mr. Pike added.
“I do not wish to do that,” Roderick said.
“And I would not wish you to do it,” Mr. Pike added.
“If you wish to be accepted as a duke, then you need to earn the respect of the tenants and the local gentry. Something that the current duchess appears to have done well. If you were to simply cast her onto the street, especially one who has already been tinged by scandal—”
“I would be seen as a cruel man, no better than my father to those who knew him,” Roderick sighed.
“Exactly,” Mr. Pike nodded. “For this to work, you must be fair, measured, and honorable. And it would not hurt to consider the connections that she has already made.”
“Exactly,” Roderick nodded. “She has been there for two years. I cannot simply erase her as my father erased my mother. I need to find a solution that serves us both.”
“Indeed,” Mr. Pike nodded.
They kept walking. The way she had looked t and spoken to him…
That was not a woman who was insecure. That was an animal being backed into a corner.
He did not wish to keep forcing her because that would be dangerous for them both.
He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, feeling his ears warming.
Roderick knew he should find her defiance irritating.
Any other woman would have earned his ire.
And yet, she did not. Perhaps it was because he was deeply aware of her situation and did not wish to contribute to her suffering.
Perhaps it was the glittering gold flecks in her eyes.
He shook his head. He could not think about such things.
He needed to focus on the things to come.
The men eventually made their way back into town. People were returning from the fields as the sun began to set, the residents laughing and talking.
“Hush, Margaret! You should not speak such things,” one young lady said. Roderick practically felt his ears twitch as he listened.
“Is it not odd that a young man has come to town, appearing to be investigating the estate, and to see the woman who killed her husband?” Another lady spoke.
“Do not give their chatter weight,” Mr. Pike whispered to Roderick. He was not listening to Mr. Pike, though, he was trying to hear more of what the women were saying.
“Her husband died on their wedding night!”
“In her bedchamber…”
“Servants heard shouting and the sound of a breaking vase…”
“Perhaps she poisoned him?”
“Perhaps she drove him to apoplexy with her coldness!”
“The servants said she was calm when she asked them to call the physician.”
“She never seemed unhappy that he died.”
"My mother says it is unnatural, a woman so unmoved by her own husband's death."
"Perhaps she never loved him at all. It was hardly a love match, from what I heard."
"Small wonder, given how the late duke was known to be."
“His temper?”
“Of course.”
Those last remarks startled Roderick more than he expected.
He swallowed hard as a cold weight settled in his chest. He had spent so much time thinking of his father's cruelty as something that belonged only to his mother.
It had not occurred to him, until that moment, that there might be an entire village of people who had witnessed his temper as well.
Then… there was the duchess.
A woman his age, or near enough. And she had outlived a man with such violent tendencies.
Roderick’s eyes widened as he took it all in.
His heart hammered in his chest as he realized that she had not only been willing to face Roderick himself with a letter opener, but she had also faced his father.
Had she also looked at his father with a lack of fear?
]Had she been so willing to scream for help because she had already faced down a much more dangerous man?
He felt something twinge in his chest.
There was no repulsion in him, as other men may have felt.
No.
Fascination had taken hold of him.
As they wandered back down the winding, cobbled streets toward The Stag and Crown, they soon passed a tavern, The Barley Mow. Roderick opened his mouth to say something and turned to Mr. Pike, then closed his mouth. The other man looked exhausted.
“You should go rest,” Roderick said softly. “I will stay here. I wish to have an ale.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Pike nodded wearily and walked on toward The Stag and Crown. Roderick watched him go and entered the tavern.
The taproom was warmed by the number of bodies inside, lit by the fireplace and candles placed throughout the room.
He bought an ale and moved to take a seat in the corner.
He watched the room quietly, silently picking out the different groups who had gathered.
There was a set of farmers near the door.
A pair of traveling merchants resting against the back wall.
Further in, there was a group of lords, laughing at something Roderick didn’t hear.
A thud caught his attention.
It was not, as he had worried, the sound of someone falling. Instead, it was a tankard hitting the wooden table.
He looked up and a man with his own ale stood in front of him, grinning.
“Forgive me, I could not help noticing you sitting alone. It is good to meet another gentleman,” the man said.
“Another gentleman? Who might I have the pleasure of meeting?” Roderick asked
“I am Mr. Phineas Bell,” the man said, sitting across from him.
“I am Mr. Vale,” Roderick replied. “ Forgive me for being somewhat cautious, but I am new to the area, and for all I know, you could be about to rob me for every coin in my pocket.”
“Ah, well, that’s the trick, is it not?” Mr. Bell asked. “Not to worry, I have no reason to rob you.”
“Are you a man of modest means?” Roderick asked.
“I am a sensible man who knows if he is going to meet strangers, he should not bring his wealth with him.” Mr. Bell laughed. “But it does help that I have few coins at home.”
“I see,” Roderick nodded.
“Now, I should be allowed to ask you a question, as you have asked me one,” Mr. Bell said, taking a long dtink of his ale.
“Really?” Roderick asked.
“I believe that is a second!” Mr. Bell laughed. “Now, who exactly are you, kind stranger? I saw you when you arrived at the inn, but I was unable to speak to you then. However, I am here now and I have questions I wish to ask.”
“Me?” Roderick asked. “Just a traveler, interested in the area.”
“Oh really?” Mr. Bell asked.
“Really,” Roderick nodded.
“This is hardly the kind of village that attracts attention normally,” Mr. Bell said jovially.
“Well—” Roderick stuttered.
“I am glad to know that our duchess' work is paying off!” The man laughed, taking another drink from his tankard.
“Her work?” Roderick asked.