Chapter Six #2
They were greeted by a tall, thin man wearing a red waistcoat.
“Your Grace, I’m Jemison, the innkeeper.
We are very pleased to have you and the duchess here at Jemison House.
Would you care for a tea tray so you may relax until the private dining room is ready?
” The older man was deferential and all politeness.
“A tea tray would be welcome, thank you. I also wish to place an order for a food hamper for our journey tomorrow,” Duncan replied.
“I’ll tell Mrs. Jemison right away, Your Grace. Allow me to escort you to your room.”
They climbed the stairs and were ushered into a fair-sized room with mahogany paneling and gold draperies. A fire blazed in the hearth. “This will do nicely,” Duncan said with a nod.
“If there is anything else you require, let me know.” The innkeeper had no sooner exited the room, when young men carried in their small trunks and cases.
“Just place them there,” Duncan instructed, pointing to the rectangular bench on the opposite wall.
Once they departed, Duncan turned to face her.
“I can speak to Mr. Jemison and request a separate room for myself, but the place is quite overflowing with guests. As it is, Briggs and McGloin have to share their room with two other men.”
Augusta stared at the large bed, the only one in the room.
It looked quite comfortable with its gold quilt and plush pillows.
“There’s no need. I will not have you sleep on a pallet in some dark corner.
We are married.” And I’ve slept with a man before.
Augusta removed her wool cloak, then her fur-trimmed redingote and wool bonnet, placing them on the bed.
Thankfully, she had purchased warm traveling clothes and a fur muff before their journey. “Shall we sit by the fire?”
Duncan removed his hat, set it on the shelf by the door, and hung his coat on the hook below it. “By all means.”
Before he could sit, a loud knock sounded at the door. Duncan opened it.
“I’ve brought tea and some bread and cheese,” the older lady said as she hurried into the room.
She set the tray on the table between the two chairs in front of the fire.
“If Your Graces require anything else, let me know.” She turned toward Augusta.
“I’ve a girl who can attend you, Your Grace, should you need it.
Dinner will be in one hour!” She curtsied awkwardly, then rushed from the room.
The tray was filled with a beautiful pink rose china tea set, slices of Stilton cheese (noted for its distinct aroma and blue-veined appearance), cheddar, and Wensleydale, and a variety of sliced bread and biscuits.
“And here is the getting-to-know-you phase,” Augusta said lightly. “Where I learn how you take your tea. Unless you prefer coffee.”
Duncan sat. “I enjoy both, but I prefer tea: milk added after the tea is poured, with only a sprinkling of sugar. As far as cheese, I cannot abide Stilton, but I like most other types.”
Augusta poured the tea and handed Duncan the cup and saucer. “I cannot abide Stilton either, so we will give it a miss. Have you stayed here before?”
“No, Briggs recommended it. He has traveled these roads for many years, mostly on my uncle’s behalf, the late duke. He has been with the Bamford family since he was a young lad.”
“So you became the Duke of Allenby when your uncle died?”
“No, my father. My uncle’s only brother.”
“Of course. I’m sorry. I must be more tired than I thought.” She took the silver tongs, selected cheese and bread, and handed Duncan the china plate. “When did your father pass, or would you prefer I change the subject?”
Duncan set his plate on the small table on the other side of his chair, then sipped his tea.
“My father died about two and a half years ago. My uncle died shortly after my cousin. The shock and grief were too much for him, I daresay. His heart gave out. My father was the duke for about three years. I honestly believed he would be around for many years, as Father was only three-and-sixty and in generally good health. A winter chill took him.”
“I am sorry for all the losses you have endured over the past few years,” Augusta said empathetically.
“Yes, losses. Including my career and my face. I mourned them at first, along with my cousin, but I soon realized I was being selfish and self-pitying. My cousin’s death was devastating, none more so than for my uncle.
Jon was all he had; my aunt had died years earlier, and there were no other children. ”
Augusta heard the sorrow in his voice, not only for his personal losses but also for his war injury.
Duncan told her during the journey that he did not wish to discuss his scars, and she would steer the conversation away from them.
“I heard most of your description of Bamford Park before I fell asleep. It sounds lovely.”
Duncan sipped his tea. “It is.”
Heavens, what should they discuss now? “As for getting to know each other better, I should warn you I am atrocious with a needle. I never took to embroidery, nor can I play the pianoforte very well. I have not done any entertaining, so my hostess skills are somewhat rusty.”
“I do not entertain,” the duke replied, his tone flat.
This conversation was not going well at all.
It was also the first sign of detachment he had shown since they first met at the Lyon’s Den.
What had she said to cause such frost to gather?
Augusta was genuinely perplexed. She had forgotten, over these past five years, how a man’s mood can change as rapidly as the weather.
Where was the amiable man he had become by the end of their first visit?
And during the first part of this journey? The duke had completely shut down.
They sat in silence. The only sound was the logs crackling in the hearth. The loud knock at the door startled Augusta. Duncan rose to answer the door.
“Dinner is ready, Your Grace.”
Well, this should be interesting. Augusta sighed resignedly and stood to join the duke.
Their arranged marriage was not off to a good start. Not at all.