“Excuse me, what did you ask?”
“Oh, forgive me, I am just rambling. Funerals always make me nervous, and I talk way too much. I hope you can forgive me. You must be grieving, and here I am going on and on about the most inane trivialities.”
“It is nice to be distracted,” he lied. “But you have to forgive me for now. I must visit with some of my other guests. Many have come a long way to attend the service, and I owe them some of my time and attention.”
“I shall be here for you whenever you need some comfort,” she said with a fetching smile. “You can always count on me.”
* * *
After an exhausting day and the turmoil of her emotions at the funeral; her attending to the needy Duchess; her encounter with Beaumont; and the solemnity of the funeral dinner she should be exhausted—and she was, but she could not fall asleep. Lucy got out of bed and went to the window to gaze across the stillness of the moonlit landscape. Perhaps it could offer her some peace and solace.
However, she noticed in the darkness, a light coming from George’s studio. Could it be he could not sleep as well? Might he be finding his solace in painting this late at night? She glanced at the clock. It was just after two in the morning.
She put on her robe and slippers and a heavy wool shawl and left the suite quietly. She moved through the house, went outside, walked over to the stables, and climbed the stairs to the studio.
Knocking lightly, she entered. Indeed, George was at his easel.
“You are awake, too?” he asked, looking surprised to see her.
“I am exhausted but cannot sleep, although I have tried for hours. I saw your studio light from my bedroom window and thought you might like some company. Do you?”
He smiled. “I do. You are always most welcome.”
Lucy went over to her desk and sat down, even though her manuscript was in her room.
“How are you holding up? All this change must be very stressful, Your Grace.”
George laughed. “Oh, please, not you as well. George. Call me George. Every time I hear someone address me as ‘Your Grace’ I look around expecting to see my father. It is most unnerving,” he chuckled.
“Oh, George, our lives are changing so fast.”
“Mine certainly, but yours? How has your life changed?”
Lucy did not want to tell him about the fact that she did not, in fact, have a dowry anymore, so she said, “I miss your father. I always expect him to come from around the corner with some sweet comment. He was always so kind to me.”
“He loved you. Tell no one, but I think he considered you the sweetest of his daughters, even if you were not of our blood.”
“I should like to think that.”
George’s expression grew dark. She could tell that something was troubling him.
“Lucy,” he asked finally, “What are your long-term plans? Do you ever think of going to London to write? I know you have turned down the offer of employment with her Ladyship.”
Lucy sighed. “I have no idea. I have yet to submit my new chapters to my publisher. But when I do, and if he likes it and will consider publishing it, then I can ponder my options.”
“How can he not love it? I so much enjoyed reading your stories.”
“But stories are much different from a full novel. And I have no idea if what I have written has any value.”
“You look tired. I hope you will be able to sleep some tonight. The overnight guests will be leaving early, so they can get a good start on their way home. It is going to be another busy morning.”
Lucy hesitated but said, “Her Grace was hinting she wanted me to resume my old duties with her after the guests have left. But I needed to make it clear to her that I was not available.”
“And rightly you should,” George said, moving the lamp closer to a point on the canvas where he was working. “She would love to command us all, but I am the Duke now and there are going to be some changes.”
“What sort of changes?” Lucy asked hesitantly, almost afraid to know the answers in case they disappointed. But George looked over at her with the strangest expression on his face. She could not make out what he was thinking.
“I wish I could say, but it is too early to tell. I am still struggling to get used to my new responsibilities as the Duke. I now have all these folks dependent on me. Not just the family but the staff, the community, the House of Lords, the family name, and yes—even myself. I have my own life to consider and, at times, I become almost paralyzed with the awesome responsibility.”
