“Village courtship, my dear. No doubt several of them were betrothed to the young men doing the mowing.”
Just then, the door to the Duchess’ solar opened to admit a handsome young man.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, with curly black hair cut in a fashionable crop, and just as fashionably tousled. He had bright blue eyes that seemed to take in everything and accept nothing at face value.
“Mother! Are you making Mrs. Swinton read that raggedy old copybook? What happened to the new novel I purchased for you?”
“We grew tired of it,” the Duchess said carelessly. “This is one of my favorite memory days. I wanted to share it with Mrs. Swinton.”
“I had hoped that by burying it in amongst my old copybooks you could be distracted from it.”
“Never, my darling son,” his mother chided him. “It was not nice of you to hide my favorite book. Naughty boy.” The Duchess shut her fan with a snap, and lightly rapped her son on the cheek with it as he bent to kiss her.
“Ow! Mama!” he protested.
“Oh, pish tosh, Darrius. I did not hurt you, and you know it. I would never hurt my dearest son.”
“I am your only son, Mother,” said the Duke.
“Which certainly makes you my dearest,” the Dowager Duchess replied, pulling his head down so that she could kiss the place she had tapped with the fan. “There now. All better?”
“Yes, of course,” Darrius said fondly. “So you would rather bore this lovely young woman with walking around moldy old Hillsworth instead of reading the exciting new novel I brought from London especially for you? I am told that all the ladies are reading it.”
“We read it already, my darling boy. Finished it up yesterday, did we not, Mrs. Swinton?”
“Indeed, we did,” Mrs. Swinton corroborated loyally. She did not disclose that less than half-way through, the Duchess had declared the book a dead bore and sent her to find an encyclopedia to read instead.
“Perhaps you could read it to me, sometime, Mrs. Swinton?” Darrius suggested with a wink.
“Perhaps. If your mother wishes to listen to it again,” Evelyn replied, carefully keeping her voice even.
Danger! Danger!her inner voice sounded the alarm.I fear the Duke has an exclusive reading in mind, and the Duchess has already made it clear how she feels about companions who flirt with the master of the house. Besides, Her Grace has already made it equally clear how she feels about that book.
Chapter 2
Darrius suppressed a sigh. His mother had not liked the book. She thought she was concealing her distaste, but her face had that bland innocent look that declared that she was lying through her teeth.
Nothing he did pleased her, no matter how he tried. Since his death, the late Duke of Tolware had risen to the level of sainthood. His virtues were greatly magnified, his faults glossed over and hidden away.
Well, there was nothing for it but to make the best of a sorry situation. “I am glad that the book found some small favor,” he said. “But since I have already read it, do carry on with the account of your day at Hillsworth. I recall that Father found it most memorable.”
“Oh, indeed he did,” his mother remarked happily. “Mrs. Swinton, be a dear and ring for another cup and a fresh pot of tea so that Darrius can join us.”
Mrs. Swinton rose, went to the embroidered bellpull which had been placed conveniently within his mother’s reach, and tugged on it.
Darius noted that she looked trim in her widow’s black, and seemed to have a pleasing figure. Her day gown was supremely modest, with a high neck that gave the impression of her well-shaped head being mounted on a pedestal.
Within moments a maid, dressed in a dark wool uniform, crisp apron, and white cap, appeared at the doorway. “Yes, Your Grace?” she said, as she curtsied.
“A fresh pot of tea, and another cup,” the Duchess ordered, “Oh, and see if the cook has any of those small bubbly pies. Be sure to tell him to send up enough for my son, as well as Mrs. Swinton and me.”
“Certainly, Your Grace.” The maid curtsied again, and disappeared down the hall.
“Now, where were we?” his mother queried of her companion. “Oh, yes, just as we were pulling up to the door of Hillsworth. Do continue, my dear.”
Mrs. Swinton took up the journal and continued reading. She had a surprisingly well-modulated voice, pleasant and clear. She made the scene at Hillsworth come alive as she read the description of rolling hills, small streams, unexpected fountains, and little grottos. Darrius could almost imagine having been there, even though upon that day he had been securely cradled inside his mother’s body, and the current condition of the estate was far from ideal.
Father always wanted Hillsworth. I wonder if Mother ever realized that his tender description of the estate next door was the covetous voice of envy? No, I rather doubt that she ever did. To his credit, Father never alluded to it when visiting with his neighbors. I wonder what will become of it now that the rightful heir has disappeared and his uncle has taken over? Well, that is certainly not my problem. I have quite enough to manage right here.
