She ambled down the hall beyond the staircase. She had anticipated it would lead to another entrance to the servants’ quarters, but instead, she discovered an imposing oak door to her right. Grand and adorned with old sconces on either side that seemed to have stood sentinel for decades, the brass doorknob likewise spoke of age, prompting her to wonder how many souls had entered the room beyond.
Curiosity overtook her, and she opened the door, gasping as she saw what lay within—a study. Eammon’s study, no doubt. She hesitated briefly, contemplating whether to leave, yet a thought stopped her:
Her own father had always kept his important documents locked away in his study, and perhaps her husband maintained the same discretion. Determined to uncover the secrets hidden from her, she nudged the door wider and stepped inside, ensuring to close it quietly in order to avoid alerting the servants to her presence.
Once inside, she surveyed her surroundings. A heavy crimson carpet covered the majority of the floor, while a grand marble fireplace, accented by gilded grates, adorned one wall. A pair of wing chairs faced the hearth, and cabinets lined the walls, with a sturdy oak desk stationed near the window, cluttered with books and papers akin to those in Eammon’s bedchamber.
Should she rummage through it all to unearth what secrets lay hidden? Or would it be wiser to inspect the drawers? Unsure, she scanned the chamber for an ideal starting point when her attention was drawn to a painting hung above the fireplace.
A beautiful piece with intricate detailing depicted a family: a couple and their three children. She recognized the little boy immediately as Eammon himself, evident in the dark hair, blue eyes, and the squared features he had preserved into adulthood. The woman, too, was unmistakably the Duchess of Leith; although her hair appeared more auburn in the portrait than it did in life, her countenance bore a striking resemblance, albeit slightly aged. The tall, blonde gentleman beside her must be her deceased father-in-law, and the two girls, sharing their mother's auburn locks, were undoubtedly Marjorie and Hazel.
From the fashion displayed in the painting, it was clear that it had been crafted during the early reign of King George the Fifth, the attire being distinctly Regency—an empire waist for both mother and daughters, while a heavily adorned cravat adorned the gentleman, indicative of the style's prominence.
Yet something about the portrait suddenly gave her pause. She scrutinized it again and realized what it was—Eammon bore little resemblance to his parents. His complexion was darker, his eyes a shade lighter. His stature echoed that of his father, yet his features remained distinctively his own.
Had he perhaps taken after his grandfather? She had observed other portraits throughout the estate and made a mental note to seek one of the Earl of Worcester.
To her astonishment, the door handle rattled. Panic surged within her as she turned to face the door, a growing sense of dread gathering as the knob turned. Someone approached.
For a fleeting moment, she contemplated hiding behind the heavy desk; however, her voluminous skirts would certainly give her away.
Could she open the window and leap outside? The gardeners would undoubtedly be startled, yet it would afford her an escape…Perhaps?—
No, it was too late. The door hinges emitted a sharp creak, and then the door swung open.
To her horror, the one person she wished to see the least stepped inside.
CHAPTER15
Eammon
To say that the view before him was shocking would be an understatement. How dare this young woman make her way into his study without his permission?
It wasn’t that he kept any grand secrets in the space, but it was his, and he would never presume to enter her private area unannounced or uninvited. Given her reaction the day before, when she’d claimed she would rather sleep in the stables than next to his chamber, this did raise some questions.
In any case, finding her there immediately set him on edge.
“May I help you, Your Grace?” he said in as even a tone as he could manage.
“No,” she replied. “In fact, I was only exploring the estate, and since I had no one to accompany me, I didn’t know which chamber I was entering.”
“I see. So you were confused about where you currently are, trying to ascertain what this chamber could possibly be?” he asked, sarcasm dripping from each word. “In the future, perhaps I can offer a hint: If you stumble on a chamber that is closed and find yourself faced with a large desk, numerous books, and scattered papers, it’s likely you’ve entered a gentleman’s private study, and it would be prudent to exit posthaste.”
Even though he was perturbed by her presence, he couldn’t deny that her flushed face under his rebuke amused him. Of course, she had no idea which chamber she was in. She had been nosy, not that he could blame her.
“Your Grace…I only meant to familiarize myself with my new home, especially since I had nobody to guide me in my venture,” she said indignantly.
She was infuriating, there was no denying it, yet he found something charming about the way her cheeks reddened and how she stood with her hands curled into fists like a petulant child. The early afternoon light streaming through the tall windows gave her a certain glow. There was something almost ethereal about her. She was petite, with delicate features reminiscent of the elves he had read about in various novels.
A part of him wished she wouldn’t be quite so stubborn, as it might make him more willing to take Mrs. Frames’s advice and share dinner with her. Indeed, perhaps share more than that.
They were married now, after all. He had spent the night tossing and turning, contemplating his changed circumstances. It couldn’t be denied that they would have to make something of this. He was not yet thirty, and she was all of eighteen. God willing, they had very long lives ahead of them, and if they could not find a way to make peace with one another, it would be a very long and strenuous life, indeed.
But there was a problem. He knew the reason for her curiosity, her snooping—she did not understand why he had insisted on their marriage. He couldn’t blame her; she deserved to know. But he could not tell her that he’d married her to gain access to the Book of Confidences. She would wonder why he would want to possess it and likely assume there were secrets about him within. Then she would know he wasn’t legitimate.
He could never tell her that. The very reason he had married her was to ensure that no one but his immediate family knew the truth. He could not bring another into his confidence. He did not know her well enough. Besides, she was so angry about the arrangement that it was very possible she would use the knowledge to force the end of their marriage. For it would most certainly qualify as fraud.
“I understood this was your study,” she said, drawing him out of his thoughts. “I was going to leave as soon as I realized my error, but then I was taken in by this portrait. It is beautiful.”
