She noticed the unsettled look that crossed her lady’s maid’s face as her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned.
“I do not believe His Grace will be having breakfast with you this morning.”
“Oh,” Arabella murmured, her stomach sinking.
It wasn’t that she had particularly looked forward to breakfasting with Harry, but they were married now, and this was their first full day as husband and wife. She had assumed he would at least want to spend it with her. After all, what would it look like if a newlywed couple did not even have breakfast together on the morning after their wedding?
Especially after they had spent their wedding night apart. Would everyone in this household pity her for being the outcast, unwanted bride?
But perhaps Mabel was mistaken.
The next hour was spent preparing for the day and attending to her toilette. In the end, she selected a peach-colored gown that looked rather lovely against her pale skin. She could still hardly believe she owned so many gowns.
Her measurements had been taken shortly after the final arrangements had been made for the wedding, but she hadn’t expected such a wardrobe, even though Harry had said she would need gowns befitting her new title.
In truth, she had paid little attention when he spoke to her at all, as she had been in a state of shock about her impending nuptials. Now, she realized she had to emerge from that state of shock because this was her life now, and she had to make the best of it.
She followed Mabel downstairs to the dining room, where an elaborate breakfast had been laid out. Mrs. Blomquist, the Swedish housekeeper, was there and greeted her with a smile.
“Your Grace, I hope you do not mind, but I took the liberty of preparing a rather generous spread, since we were uncertain as to your preferences.”
Indeed, the table before her was laden with everything from porridge to rolls, an assortment of spreads, fresh fruits, meats, and cheeses. The truth was, Arabella wasn’t even hungry. In fact, she didn’t think she could manage a single bite, but she knew it would disappoint the housekeeper if she refused.
“Porridge is wonderful,” she said, sitting down and spreading a silk napkin over her lap before folding her hands in her lap.
“Is something the matter?” Mrs. Blomquist asked, glancing at Mabel with concern.
“Her Grace was under the impression that His Grace would be having breakfast with her and then showing her around the estate.”
Mrs. Blomquist’s lips formed a small ‘O.’
“I am afraid he won’t be joining you this morning—Mabel was quite right. He has taken the carriage and gone into town.”
“He has gone into town?” Arabella asked, her heart sinking.
So, Mabel had been correct. Harry meant to abandon her on her very first day in her new home.
She wet her lips and sat straighter. “I see. When can I expect him back? What are his habits?”
The women exchanged looks.
“Well,” Mrs. Blomquist began. “He typically goes into town several days a week, and when he does, he takes dinner at his club. Sometimes he dines with Sir Richard at his home, or Sir Richard comes here, but I imagine that will change now that you are here.”
“Right,” Arabella said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Well, I am sure my husband will return this afternoon, as he told me we would be viewing the estate together. Pray, would you be able to prepare flummery? I know His Grace enjoys it, and the cook was unable to make it yesterday due to the short notice, but I was informed that the maids were going to the market?”
“Of course,” Mrs. Blomquist replied. “I will have it prepared, but I am uncertain if His Grace will dine at home tonight. As I mentioned, it is his habit to dine out.”
“I am certain my husband will be here this evening. We were unable to dine together yesterday because I was very fatigued,” Arabella said, “but we agreed we would dine together tonight. So, the flummery?”
She felt the need to assert herself in her new role as Duchess.
“Of course, Your Grace,” Mrs. Blomquist replied, and then made for the door, followed by Mabel.
Arabella remained seated, her hands folded in her lap, staring at the untouched porridge before her. She heard the women walking away, but then their footsteps stopped suddenly. She frowned, wondering what had caused them to pause. She rose and moved to the door, peering out through the gap between it and the frame.
Indeed, the two women had stopped.
“The poor dear,” Mabel murmured. “I do not understand what is wrong with His Grace.”
