And she would begin with eggs, toast, and more hot chocolate.
CHAPTER10
“And here I had hoped to find you in the dining room, Your Grace.”
Owen took off his reading glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose as his housekeeper strolled into the study, carrying a breakfast tray. Impatience reverberated through him. Forcing it down, he took a deep breath. He wasn’t upset with her. She was only bringing him food.
“Thank you,” he muttered as she laid the tray before him. It was piled high, higher than usual, but his usual foods appeared to be there. “That will be all.”
Except Mrs. Helen stepped back and eyed him curiously, her hands on her hips. He was about to put his glasses back on to resume reading his correspondence but stopped when she didn’t budge.
“Yes, Mrs. Helen?” Owen forced himself to ask.
“I don’t have any trouble with you,” she said, as though she were the sort of person to apparently have trouble with him. She sniffed. “But I must say, it’s a sunny day for such a dreary household.”
Holding back a groan, he asked, “Whatever do you mean? Is something wrong with the servants?”
“Oh, no. We all get along like we always have. There’ll be more of us, too, before the end of the week. But the dining room… it could be such a cheery place were it not for Her Grace.”
Owen frowned. He thought of Georgiana. They’d only talked a few minutes ago. He had been stern with her for eavesdropping, perhaps harder than he had needed to be, but it was for the best. He had been so close to falling apart or breaking the room into pieces. That wasn’t for her to see. The rage that his uncle ignited within him was nearly enough to break a man.
Which is perhaps why she doesn’t belong here. Or rather, I do not. The sooner I return to my country seat, the better. I’ll have the fresh air, my plants, and a mostly empty household without a nosy wife.
“I thought you liked her?” Owen asked his housekeeper.
“I adore her.” Mrs. Helen paused again, as if she wanted him to say something. Except he hardly knew what she was expecting him to say. “It’s only that she’s dreary this morning. One minute she’s engaged in her bedchamber, making plans for the day, and the next she’s eating toast and holding back tears.” She sniffed again.
Leaning back in his chair, Owen rubbed his forehead.
So that’s what this was about. His wife was unhappy, almost like she had been pushed into a marriage she didn’t desire. Was he supposed to cry about it as well? He shook his head at the very notion.
“As unfortunate as that may be,” he said, “that is hardly my concern. The Duchess may do as she likes. I am not her friend or a shoulder to cry on.”
“But who shall she talk to about what upsets her?”
He waved a hand loosely in the air. “Anyone she likes to. I’ve heard her talk to others, so it isn’t an impossible choice for her. She’ll find someone if she hasn’t already. I will not stop her.”
Even after such a generous offer, his housekeeper was not yet swayed. Her expression soured further. He had hoped she would leave him be. Instead, Mrs. Helen clasped her hands together and took a step closer to him.
“Your Grace,” she started. He couldn’t help letting out a small groan, so she talked over him. “Your Grace, I believe you must consider Her Grace’s feelings. I’m certain she meant nothing by whatever upset you. You’ll find that she is very pleasant if you only talk with her.”
“Did she tell you that she upset me?”
“No, but I surmised that something must have happened after she dressed and before she came down to the dining room.”
He frowned. “And you surmised it was my fault?”
“It is always the man’s fault,” Mrs. Helen responded with a sage nod.
After staring at her for a long moment, Owen again shook his head. “This is ridiculous. We have nothing to talk about. I wrote her a note in her study—the one connected to the library. See that she reads it today, and all will be sorted. She’ll have her money and her independence. I’m sure that’s all she wants.”
Now it was Mrs. Helen’s turn to groan. “No matter your station, all of you men are the same. The money helps, but it is the connection in the marriage that women crave the most. You’re married now. Surely that matters?”
If he had been stricter with his servants when he was younger, perhaps he would not have hired anyone who pushed back. But Owen couldn’t even think about replacing his housekeeper. Mrs. Helen would remain even with her stubborn willfulness.
“Just because we are married,” he articulated carefully in the hope she would begin to understand, “does not mean we must be anything more than legally husband and wife.”
Those last three words rolled oddly off his tongue. He wondered if Mrs. Helen noticed the way they tumbled out of his mouth.
