Eammon stepped out of the carriage and handed Charity out. Earlier, at the registry office, touching her had sent an odd jolt through him. He’d realized then that he had not touched her before, and he’d put his reaction down to this understanding.
Now, as he handed her out again, he glanced down at her hand, noting how small it was in his. A wave of protectiveness washed over him but when he saw the way she glared at him, it ebbed away. He’d tried his best to put her at ease in the carriage, jesting and making light of things, but she hadn’t appreciated it in the least.
It was quite clear she did not wish to be here, did not care for him, and would not make their lives any easier. Just how he was supposed to move forward he didn’t know. However, he’d given his word. He’d make sure she was protected as much as he could.
Just being his wife would lend a measure of such protection. And once the book was in his hands, it would be over. At least the intrigue over the book would be. The challenge that was their life ahead was only beginning.
“Let us go inside. I shall show you to your chamber,” he said and motioned for her to walk up the stairs. Usually, a new duchess would be greeted by the entire staff, but he hadn’t had a chance to arrange this. She would not appreciate it anyhow; that was quite clear.
Still, he had arranged for Frames, the butler, and Mrs. Frames, the housekeeper, to greet them.
Frames opened the door as soon as the carriage arrived and was now cordially greeting them.
“Your Grace,” he said, bowing deeply to him and then to Charity.
“Furnish, allow me to introduce Charity Hayward, the new Duchess of Leith.”
He perceived a subtle wince when he uttered the title and her new legal name. He was keenly aware that she harbored no fondness for the notion of being his wife, yet she would need to adapt to it.
“A pleasure, Your Grace,” Frames said, and Mrs. Frames curtsied. “It is a pleasure to assist you, indeed. Things have been rather different here since your father’s passing. It shall be delightful to have a lady in charge once more.”
Charity inhaled deeply as she scanned her surroundings. “It is a grand estate indeed. How many servants reside here?” she inquired.
“Within the house itself, we have twenty-two,” he responded, “and then there are the stable staff, the gardeners, and so on.”
“Good heavens! It shall take me some time to grow accustomed to that.”
“You shall do perfectly well, I am certain,” Mrs. Frames replied. “I have a cousin who once worked at Pembroke and spoke of it as a grand estate, very well managed.”
“By my mother, yes,” Charity responded with a smile. “Pray, who is your cousin?”
“Matilda Stevens. She serves as your mother’s lady’s maid,” Mrs. Frames replied.
“Stevens! She is a lovely woman. You must be most pleased to have her living closer to you now.”
“Indeed, Mrs. Frames,” Charity said.
“It brings me great joy. She speaks very highly of you, Your Grace. Thus, when I learned you were to be the new mistress of Hayward, I was quite delighted.”
Eammon observed this exchange with growing curiosity. Charity had barely said a word to him other than to chide him. Indeed, during the carriage ride, she had scarcely uttered a sound. Yet now, witnessing her engage with his staff, he found her charm emanating forth. Why could she not show such warmth toward him? Their marriage would surely be more agreeable if she did.
“I should escort Her Grace to her chamber now,” he declared. “There shall be ample time to discuss the needs of the estate later. I trust that Mrs. Frames shall serve as your guiding hand, Charity.”
“I look forward to it,” she replied, though a weary sigh escaped her lips.
“You must be exhausted. Jean has already arrived and has been assigned a space upstairs. Two things await you in your chambers.”
She nodded once, gracefully, and the servants stepped back to grant them privacy.
“I shall now show you to your chambers,” he announced, proceeding to ascend the staircase. She hesitated for a moment, casting a glance in his direction.
What was the matter now? He turned, raising his hands. “Follow me.”
“Pray, where shall my chamber be?” she inquired, her hand delicately gliding along the banister as she followed. “I take it I shall have rooms arranged separately from yours, given the nature of our marriage?”
He perceived her desire to distance herself from him. So much for cordiality.
“You shall have the duchess’s chamber, which is adjacent to mine. It is customary in my family that husbands and wives share living quarters, albeit with separate beds, chambers, dressing rooms, and, of course, your private sitting room.”
