"Yes, Your Grace. Shall I prepare particular rooms, or would you prefer me to ready the entire suite?"
"The entire suite, if you please. I prefer to have options available rather than scrambling to accommodate unexpected circumstances."
"Certainly, Your Grace. I shall see to it immediately."
"Thank you, Mrs. Cromwell. Your efficiency in such matters is invaluable."
The final comment was delivered with the same matter-of-fact tone that characterized all his instructions, yet Evangeline detected a warmth that suggested genuine appreciation. Here was evidence that her husband, for all his emotional remoteness, possessed both awareness of and gratitude for the efforts of those who served him.
The contradiction fascinated and troubled her in equal measure. How could she reconcile this evidence of consideration with the cold, intimidating man who had made it clear that theirmarriage was nothing more than a business arrangement? What other aspects of his character might she have misjudged during their brief acquaintance?
***
As she prepared for dinner that evening, still feeling overwhelmed by the complexity of her new responsibilities, Evangeline found her thoughts returning repeatedly to the image of a small golden puppy receiving care that its benefactor would never claim credit for providing. The gesture seemed to suggest possibilities for their marriage that she had not dared to consider, yet she was afraid to hope for something that might prove to be nothing more than wishful thinking.
Perhaps, she thought as she submitted to Mary's ministrations with her hair and gown, there was more to Lucian Hollowbridge than the bitter, wounded creature he presented to the world. Perhaps beneath his carefully constructed armor lay a man capable of kindness, consideration, and even—though she hardly dared hope for such a thing, something approaching warmth.
The possibility was both tantalizing and terrifying, for it suggested that their marriage of convenience might eventually become something more substantial than a mere business arrangement. Yet she was not certain she possessed either the skill or the courage to pursue such possibilities, given her own inadequacies in navigating the complex demands of her new position.
For now, she decided, she would observe and wait, gathering evidence about her husband's true character while struggling to fulfill her own obligations as duchess with whatever competence she could muster. Time would reveal whether the glimpses of humanity she had detected today represented genuine aspects of his nature or merely polite habits that meant nothing more thansocial convention required.
But as she made her way to the dining room, Evangeline carried with her the memory of a rescued puppy and the growing suspicion that her formidable husband might possess depths that neither of them had yet dared to explore.
Chapter Eight
Evangeline had risen early once again, determined to establish some semblance of routine in her new existence, though she found herself wondering if other duchesses experienced such profound uncertainty about their daily obligations and social responsibilities.
The breakfast room, with its tall windows overlooking the neglected gardens, had become her preferred sanctuary for morning correspondence and the endless stream of decisions that seemed to accompany her elevated position. Mrs. Cromwell had arranged the previous day's letters upon a silver salver with the sort of ceremonial precision that suggested such formalities had once been commonplace at Ravenshollow Manor, though Evangeline suspected they had been revived specifically for her benefit rather than maintained throughout Lucian's years of isolation.
"Your Grace," Mrs. Cromwell announced with the particular tone she employed when delivering news of uncertain reception, "a gentleman has arrived requesting an audience with His Grace. Viscount Pembroke claims urgent family business requires immediate attention."
The name meant nothing to Evangeline, though she detected something in the housekeeper's manner that suggested this visitor's arrival was not entirely welcome. "Has His Grace been informed of the Viscount's presence?"
"Yes, Your Grace. His Grace has requested that you join them in the library at your earliest convenience. He seemed particularly desirous of your attendance at this interview."
The careful phrasing, combined with Mrs. Cromwell's obvious reluctance to elaborate further, filled Evangeline with sudden apprehension about the nature of this unexpected visit.What manner of family business could require her presence at what should have been a private conversation between male relatives? And why had Lucian, who seemed to prefer conducting all serious business without feminine interference, specifically requested her attendance?
"Thank you, Mrs. Cromwell. Please inform His Grace that I shall join him directly."
The walk from the breakfast room to the library seemed longer than usual, each step weighted with growing unease about whatever awaited her behind the familiar oak doors. She could hear voices as she approached—Lucian's deep tones contrasting with a lighter voice that carried the sort of polished accent that marked a gentleman of fashion and society. The conversation appeared cordial enough, though something in the rhythm of their exchange suggested undercurrents of tension that might not be immediately apparent to a casual observer.
"Ah, Evangeline," Lucian said as she entered the library, rising from his position behind the massive desk with the formal courtesy that had characterized all their public interactions. "May I present my cousin, Viscount Pembroke? Edmund, this is my wife, the Duchess of Ravenshollow."
The gentleman who rose to greet her was everything that Lucian was not—conventionally handsome in the fair-haired, blue-eyed manner that marked the fashionable world, elegantly dressed in the latest London style, and possessed of the sort of easy charm that seemed to flow as naturally as breathing. Yet there was something in his pale eyes that struck her as calculating, a quality that suggested his pleasing exterior concealed thoughts of a less agreeable nature.
"Your Grace," Viscount Pembroke said with a bow that was perfectly executed yet somehow managed to convey a subtle reservation about according her the full honors of her position, "what an unexpected pleasure to make your acquaintance atlast. I confess myself quite surprised by the news of my cousin's marriage."
The emphasis on the word 'surprised' carried implications that made Evangeline's spine stiffen with instinctive defensiveness, though she maintained her composure with the sort of diplomatic grace that her new position demanded.
"The pleasure is entirely mutual, my lord," she replied with cool courtesy, settling herself in the chair that Lucian indicated with a gesture that somehow managed to position her slightly behind his protective presence. "I trust your journey from London was not too tiring?"
"Not at all, Your Grace, though I confess the roads in this part of Yorkshire leave much to be desired. I suppose one grows accustomed to such rustic inconveniences when one chooses to bury oneself in the countryside."
The comment was delivered with a smile that did not reach his eyes, and Evangeline found herself wondering if the Viscount's remarks were intended to disparage not merely the local infrastructure but also Lucian's decision to withdraw from fashionable society. There was an edge to his manner that suggested this pleasant conversation concealed purposes of a less benevolent nature.
"We find the Yorkshire countryside quite agreeable," she replied with the sort of calm authority that suggested any criticism of their chosen residence was both unwelcome and irrelevant. "There is something to be said for the peace and tranquility that distance from London affords."
"Indeed, Your Grace. Though I imagine a lady of your evident refinement must occasionally long for the entertainments and society that only the metropolis can provide?"
