Lydia's Penance, page 11
The yard of the inn was where she saw her new husband for the first time that morning. The tallest man in the yard, he was impossible to miss, even if he hadn’t been standing at the center of activity. Their carriages were being reloaded from whatever had been unpacked the day before, horses being hitched, and his own horse - Isaac had called him Sampson - stamping his foot impatiently off to the side. Glancing over, the duke’s dark gaze took in her and Mary’s appearance. Giving her a short nod, he turned back to whatever his valet was saying to him and Lydia swallowed her disappointment at his lack of true greeting.
What? Had she hoped he would stop what he was doing and come to her? That was not the kind of relationship they had, no matter what Mary and the rest of the ton thought.
Unperturbed, Mary chirped cheerfully at her side. “Well, His Grace is eager to be home!”
Lydia nodded, accepting the excuse, which Mary seemed to take as real. Taking a moment to thank Mr. and Mrs. Appleby for their hospitality, and receiving their effusive congratulations on her wedding such a fine member of Society - and their sincerity in describing the duke as such made quite an impression - Lydia quickly stepped towards the carriage. Being ignored by her husband after such an experience as last night... well, it wasn’t sitting well with her, no matter that she had no reason to expect anything more.
As soon as she reached the carriage, Isaac was suddenly there, offering his hand to assist her into it.
“Good morning, my dear,” he said as he raised his hand. Up close, he looked even more handsome than he had at a distance. His traveling clothes were worn but well cared for, and they fit him like a glove, making it clear he spent quite a bit of time on horseback. He looked just as comfortable as he did in the middle of the ballroom, dressed in his finest. The jacket hung from his broad shoulders, his pants outlined powerful thighs, and his shirt gaped just a bit at the neck, with no cravat to cover it. Just touching his hand and remembering how that hand had touched her the night before made her flush and the sore ache between her legs throb slightly. It was well she wasn’t expected to sit a horse today, the more she moved, the more she’d realized how uncomfortable she was down there.
“Good morning, Isaac,” she murmured back, placing her hand in his.
Something flared in his eyes when she said his name, but after helping her into the carriage, he just gave her a short nod and strode away. Her heart sank a bit. After last night she’d expected... well, she’d expected a bit more familiarity, she supposed. Last night had been magical. Intimate. Not just the bedding, but also their conversation over dinner. It had held such promise. Now, it felt like there was a barrier sprung up between them, rather than the connection they’d begun to forge.
Not only was it disheartening, but she found it rather hurt as well.
Fortunately, she had Mary for company, and her maid apparently hadn’t seen anything amiss. She’d been just as chatty for the beginning of the trip, until Lydia picked up the book she’d been reading the day before. Fortunately, as long as the roads were fairly well-kept, Lydia had never been the type to suffer reading sickness while traveling. It certainly made the time pass faster. Mary worked on her darning while Lydia read and the companionable silence suited them both well enough.
Every so often, Lydia would glance out the window to study the fine form of her husband. Mostly, he rode ahead of the train, but sometimes he would fall back, and she even caught him glancing at the carriage once or twice. He was a fine figure on horseback, not that she knew how to judge a man’s seat, but he looked like a dashing knight straight from a fairy tale. In some ways he was, considering how he’d saved her. Unfortunately, rather than being a white knight charging in to save the princess, he was more along the lines of a reluctant hero, and there was nothing she could do to change that.
Confident. Intelligent. Savvy. Trustworthy. Solid. Dependable. Ethical. Responsible. Occasionally humorous.
Those were Isaac’s most listed virtues.
Patience was not among them. Which meant waiting an entire day of travel when he’d already decided upon the conversation he and Lydia would need to have before they could truly move forward with their marriage, was chafing on him. His mind kept whirling round and round with the possible reasons she might have for trapping him, and without any additional information forthcoming, his imagination was providing some truly ridiculous scenarios. Isaac had never thought himself particularly imaginative - that would be Arabella, or perhaps Benedict - but it turned out he had more of an imagination than he’d thought.
Having dismissed the most logical, sound theories, his mind now presented him with some of the most ridiculous it could summon.
Perhaps she had a wasting sickness and wanted to die a duchess.
Perhaps she’d made a vow as a child to become a duchess and so had seen her best opportunity in his presence at the house party after failing to attract a duke’s attention during the season.
Perhaps she’d fallen in love with another man, been spurned, and decided to show him up by marrying a duke.
Perhaps she had an expensive penchant for gaming... or dresses... or millinery... or horses... and her stepfather’s coffers couldn’t support her desires, and so she’d gone looking for a better fortune.
Perhaps her younger sister was to marry soon and, jealous, she’d decided to trap a man into marriage before she was labeled a spinster. Actually, if he hadn’t spent time with her, that theory might have seemed more logical. Isaac had seen young ladies throw themselves at gentlemen for similar reasons; for some reason once a younger sister had married, no matter their respective ages, the elder was seen to be on the shelf. Society was insane. The theory was too, in this case, as far as he could tell. Lydia had spoken of her sister with true fondness and certainly hadn’t mentioned a particular suitor garnering the younger Miss Stafford’s attention, and he felt she would have during the course of their conversation.
The long ride, with only a quick stop for a luncheon and to use the necessary, which didn’t give them any privacy to talk, seemed to drag on as his mind went wild.
When he wasn’t coming up with ridiculous theories about why she might have trapped him in marriage, he was constantly remembering last night... the feel of her underneath him, the warm clasp of her body, the wonder in her eyes... and berating himself for not taking more time with her. He’d been impatient. Next time, he would take his time. Memorize her curves. Taste every inch of her and not just those sweet, berry nipples. Bare her to him completely and help her through her modest embarrassment. Perhaps teach her how to touch him, although he doubted that would help with his patience in the bedroom.
At any rate, those thoughts didn’t help make the ride any shorter or more comfortable either.
When the lane to the Chase finally appeared, he breathed a sigh of relief and dropped back to ride alongside the first carriage. He’d done so several times during the ride, just wanting to catch a glimpse of Lydia, but he hadn’t allowed himself to linger. After all, what he wanted to talk about was not conducive to traveling conversation, especially with her maid present in the carriage.
Through the window, Lydia looked up at him, her grey eyes a little anxious.
“We’re approaching the Chase,” he said, waving his arm as they began the turn down the lane. “I thought you would want to know.”
Her big eyes widened further as she scooted towards the window. Unlike his sister, who could be quite a hoyden, Lydia didn’t hang out the window, but she certainly did lean as close as she could and still be circumspect. Isaac approved.
“Oh...” She said, letting out a small sigh of appreciation as the lane rolled upwards on the slight hill and the entirety of Manchester Chase came into view. It was an idyllic country estate; with the sun slowly lowering in the sky, although not quite setting, it looked like a picture out of a painting. The Chase manor house was made of light Bath stone, which seemed to partially glow in the light, and boasted a huge, neatly trimmed lawn, the lane and house lined with various bushes, and quite a few trees sprinkling the landscape. Beyond the house were the gardens his mother had prized, and which he had the gardeners keeping in repair. If Lydia enjoyed gardening, they could probably use some updating and a woman’s touch, he mused. The gardens boasted a small pond as well as a stone folly with a mosaic patio, a nod to his father’s mother, who had come from Greece.
Chase Manor had an overhang, held up with columns, and a balcony on top, with staircases on either side, over the main entrance, which was on the ground floor. When his mother had entertained, she’d enjoyed having al frescoes out on that very balcony overlooking the lawn where the younger generations might indulge in some croquet or other lawn games. Once she had settled in, it would be Lydia’s duty to begin hosting some of the local social events. He was sure the neighbors would be eager to greet her; although Arabella had acted as his hostess in the past year, it was not the same as having a duchess-in-residence.
The overall effect of seeing the house and the lands, with the fields and forest beyond, was quite stunning.
“It’s beautiful,” Lydia said, a touch of awe in her voice, causing Isaac to puff up with pride. It truly was a beautiful estate. The tenants had been holding the lands for generations, and the land was still quite prosperous, and all of them entirely loyal to his family. His father, and his father before him, and so on, had always been generous and involved landowners. It was their responsibility to care for their tenants, and so their tenants would care for them. Isaac considered Manchester to be one of the premier estates in the entire country.
“Whenever I’m away, I think I must have exaggerated its beauty in my mind,” he said, smiling slightly. “Whenever I come home, I wonder how I could have forgotten how beautiful it truly is.”
As they rode in, he pointed out some areas of interest to her, sharing some of the memories that he had of his mother reigning over the household as duchess, his father by her side. Lydia listened intently, which garnered both his pleasure and approval. The serious expression on her face as she nodded and asked questions made him want to kiss her, just to see her smile again. But he also appreciated her attention and her obvious desire to succeed as his duchess.
At least she was serious about her new position, and he entirely approved of both her demeanor and determination. No matter that his brother and sister liked her because they thought she’d shake him up a little, going by how she’d secured marriage with him; he was starting to believe that plot was entirely out of character for her. In every other way, she suited him admirably.
Which made it all the more important that he discover why.
When they reached the entrance, the entire household came out to greet him, having received the message that he’d be arriving this afternoon with his bride. His housekeeper, Mrs. Huffington, was already beaming at both him and Lydia; Rigby, the butler, was far too correct to do anything as uncouth as beam, but even he had a small, welcoming smile on his face. Isaac tried to remember the last time he’d seen Rigby smile and came up blank. It really looked rather odd on him.
Mrs. Huffington took charge almost immediately, with Rigby’s assistance. Rigby organized the footmen to take up the baggage and the grooms to handle the carriages and horses, while Mrs. Huffington took Lydia and her maid in hand.
“Would you like a tour of the house now, Your Grace?” she asked the new duchess, who already looked a bit overwhelmed as she stared up at the house. It occurred to Isaac that the house looked quite a bit smaller from far away, when seen against the spread of land. Up close, it was clear just how dauntingly large it was. Something he was thankful for, as Benedict and Arabella, as well as their Great-Aunt were often in residence. All the Windhams needed their space. “Or would you like to rest and take the tour tomorrow?”
Although she was speaking to Lydia, Isaac answered. “I think tomorrow, Mrs. Huffington. If you don’t mind showing my new bride to her rooms for now, and then to my study once she’s had a chance to freshen up.”
His new bride gave him a curious look, but didn’t protest. Mrs. Huffington beamed, apparently deciding his desire for Lydia to settle into the house first was the correct avenue. A corner of his mouth twitched at her blatant approval. He’d always wondered what he’d have to do to earn her disapproval. She’d been with the family since he and Benedict were in short coats and had raised them as much as either of their parents or their nanny. Rigby had been with the family even longer, but he didn’t have the soft spot for Arabella’s wildness or Benedict’s humor that Huffy did. Not that Isaac had actually called her Huffy out loud in years; such a familiarity was far beneath his ducal dignity.
But that was still how he often thought of her, especially when she showed her patent approval of something he’d done. He hoped she would approve of Lydia as well; they did seem off to a good start as she led Lydia and Mary away and into the house.
Isaac took his time, taking Sampson to the stables and unsaddling him and currying the big horse himself. He took pride in taking care of his horse; too many gentlemen didn’t. Besides, everyone knew not to bother him when he was doing so; it was one of the few pure minutes of peace he ever had. And much preferable to pacing around his rooms or study and waiting for his new wife to finish settling in. He knew it would take her longer than it would him, so he might as well make use of the time instead being at the mercy of his own impatience.
The house was stunning, both inside and out, and Lydia had to wonder anew what she’d gotten herself into by trapping a duke, of all people, into marriage. Somehow, the reality hadn’t quite hit her until she’d seen the size of the place and the number of staff... although she’d run the earl’s household at her mother’s side, learning the necessary skills for later in life, the size and scale of her training was much smaller than what she was currently faced with. To say she was intimidated was the understatement of a lifetime.
Her rooms - Rooms! Plural! - were in the main hall of the house. She had an entire suite, although her bedroom adjoined Isaac’s, which Mrs. Huffington pointed out as she gave Lydia and Mary the short tour. There was a separate bathing chamber for just her, which included a water closet and a huge tub which looked incredibly inviting. Mrs. Huffington proudly pointed out the top-of-the-line heated pipes, which made it possible for hot water to be pumped directly into the tub. Although Lydia had gotten the sense Isaac could be quite conservative, apparently when it came to personal comforts, he could also be quite progressive. Something she both appreciated and was in awe of. Most of the old country houses hadn’t been updated like this, although such pipes were becoming all the rage in the fashionable London houses.
There was also a small sitting room that was just hers; it was obviously a very feminine room, which had been used by the late duchess. Mrs. Huffington assured her it had been giving a thorough cleaning when they’d opened it up for her use. It was decorated in creams and pale yellows, with lacy curtains across a window seat, which had been drawn back for ease of use. The cushions were a colorful array of blues and greens, with yellow and cream accents. Lydia loved it at first sight. She could absolutely see herself comfortably ensconced there among the cushions, reading the day away.
The rest of the room had a small table, if she chose to eat in private, a comfortable chair with supplies for embroidery sitting in a basket on the table beside it, and a small bookshelf which was currently empty. Pictures and embroidery samples decorated the walls, and Mrs. Huffington explained that they were all from either a previous duchess or from when the children were growing up. A small watercolor was boldly signed with Arabella’s name, making Lydia smile.
“Anything you would like changed, Your Grace, just let me know,” Mrs. Huffington said earnestly. “We have all manner of paintings, cushions, and furniture up in the attics, or if you would like to purchase something new I’m sure the duke would be happy to arrange it.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Huffington,” Lydia said with a smile. “This is lovely. Right now I wouldn’t change a thing, except to fill that empty bookshelf, which I look forward to doing myself.”
Beaming, the housekeeper clapped her hands together. “Wonderful. If you do want to explore the attics at some point, just let me know, and we’ll have a footman on hand to carry down anything you might like.”
After thanking Mrs. Huffington profusely, Lydia was somewhat relieved that the housekeeper claimed other duties, including a welcome-home meal for the duke and duchess. It only took a moment for Lydia to approve the menu, as she was truly too overwhelmed and exhausted to care what they ate, and she trusted Mrs. Huffington’s good sense and prior knowledge of the duke.
She was unsure how much time she had before she should meet Isaac in his study, as he hadn’t given her a time, but it seemed he wanted her to set her own pace. Glancing out the window, she saw his unmistakable form leaving the stables and walking back up towards the house. Deciding he would likely be feeling just as dusty and travel worn as herself, she had Mary run the bath. Just thinking about being able to bath in such a large tub, with heated water at her disposal - without having to send for another bucket! - felt like decadence.
Being a duchess was overwhelming, intimidating, and not something she felt prepared for now that she was here, but there were certainly some upsides as well!
Once she had washed, had her hair curled and pinned, and dressed in a pretty, violet gown trimmed with cream ribbons, Lydia felt more ready to step out of her rooms and face the rest of the household again. And her husband. She imagined he wanted to speak to her about her duties, now that they were at the house. There would be a period of adjustment, for both of them, it only made sense to speak of it. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious, as there was also no one there to help her. At least it seemed she could look to Mrs. Huffington for assistance. Arabella would have been even more helpful, but she understood why Isaac had wanted to return home without his siblings.
