Page 79 of Rough and Rugged
“When I bellowed at the marching troops to straighten their lines, I wondered if you had outgrown your donkey and now rode sidesaddle. When I put on my dress uniform, I wondered if you went to school in town or had a governess. When we were in formation waiting for the enemy to attack, I wondered if you attended assemblies and danced with militiamen.”
I recover my wits enough to smile as I answer. “Yes to the sidesaddle, no to school, and a few times to the assemblies. How dull my life is compared to yours.”
“A so-called dull life was the hope of every man in my regiment,” he responds with a grin.
I nod and take a deep breath. “You really thought of me? Why me?”
“You and your brother are the reasons I always came to visit my uncle. I saw what was happening to him and his neglect of the house and farms. It made me sad, but you and William seemed normal, the kind of family I wish I had.”
“You mean we were ordinary?”
“Yes, in a way. You appeared to be happy. I said to myself, if I survive this war, I will go back there and see how Meg has grown up.”
I remain silent, reluctant to ask how he thinks I turned out, wishing he would volunteer his opinion; but instead, he tilts up my chin and brushes his lips across mine, filling me with an enchanting shower of sparks. I close my eyes, wanting the moment to last forever. He slips his arms around me and holds me closer. How can this be happening?
When I am home and braiding my hair for bed, I scold myself for being so single-minded about the duke. I’ve known him for many years, but a three or four minute interval dominates my mind. I’ve never felt this way before about anyone. Is this what growing up means? Not to reach a certain number of years to be of age, but to see the world in different ways, discover all sorts of new things? Yes, something is hiding deep inside, reacting to the appeal of a naked back and the swing of strong arms, and the press of a chest against mine.
This morning as I wake, just a moment thinking of what is ahead today sends me scrambling back under the covers and curling up in concern. The memories flood back. What did I promise Philip? His Grace, I mean. I know only about tending my own home, always with the help of Mrs. Peterson, an experienced housekeeper. I would be of little help to repair disorder at Aberfeld House. Why did I agree to meet him this noon? If I’m being honest with myself, it charges me with excitement. I cannot quite define my feelings for the new tenth duke, partly dislike of his teasing, partly his new consequence. But even more, I cannot erase the vision of his tough, yet stunning body. Especially unclothed.
Just before midday, he fetches me from home.
“I have not been in Aberfeld House since before you left.”
“You are about to see years of waning income and decay.”
“That bad?”
We approach the side door where the stoop obviously hasn’t been swept for weeks.
“The old duke’s eyesight was weak, and the servants’ worse, most old enough to have been discharged long ago.”
The entrance hall is dark. Hardly a hint of light pierces the diamond-shaped panes of grimy glass in the old windows. Across the stone floor, the staircase rises into the gloom past faded tapestries with indecipherable designs. We enter the drawing room and I hasten to the draperies to open them, but the fabric almost crumbles in my hand. “Good heavens. Look at this.”
He moves next to me and fingers a torn section of tan brocade. “Almost rotten,” he mutters.
“Oh, this is very sad, for this fine old house to be so… so neglected.” My throat grows tighter. “Heartbreaking, in fact. I want to cry seeing it like this.”
He puts his arm around my shoulders and squeezes me to his side. “I know. Once it hosted the King, but I am embarrassed for my friends to see it now.”
He draws me closer and wraps his other arm around me, whispering into my hair. “Can you help me, please, Meg?”
I hear despair in his voice. Burdened with unproductive acreage, vacant tenant farms, a disordered tangle of walnut forests, a wreck of a residence; no wonder he swung the axe with such determination.
“I will have to find people to assist me. I think Mrs. Peterson will help.”
“Of course.” He bends his head and kisses my cheek, tightening his embrace. “You are the only person around Aberfeld I want to spend time with.”
I can’t help but giggle. “I am afraid I know nothing about forests and cutting down trees. I don’t know anything about planting them, either.”
“Your smile is enough to raise my spirits, Meg.” He hugs me and turns away. “But this is no time for snuggling in all this dust, much as I would prefer more kisses to looking at worn rugs and damp-scarred ceilings.”
“I concur.” He is so correct. The musty scent is not conducive to intimacy, and to be honest, his closeness is far too… too what?Enticing? Dangerous?
We break apart and climb the staircase to the upper floor. My brain is awash in confused feelings. How can I be attracted to this man when I’ve always held him in distaste? I am about to enter bedchambers in his presence, without another soul close by, though it is an unlikely setting for a possible seduction. We trudge through three fusty bedchambers, air stale and smelling of decay. The old draperies on the tall tester beds hang limp. The chairs and cabinets are draped in once-white covers and the carpets are too dirty to show their patterns.
Leading me to another door, the duke shrugs despondently. “There is only one room on this floor that is livable, the one where I sleep.” He opens it, at last revealing a space reasonably worthy of habitation.
“Certainly an improvement.”