Chapter Eight
“What do you think of this plan, Mrs. Fletcher?” Daphne asked.
“Th-that looks perfect, Your Grace,” the housekeeper remarked, her face lighting up.
After the duchess ran out of the dining room, a strained silence descended between her and her new husband.
It lasted for three days.
She was not really surprised. Wolfcrest had secrets and important meetings. Of course, he’d go perform a few disappearing acts. She already knew better than to expect him to sit with her, walk by her side through the garden, or join her every teatime.
She threw herself into the duties of the Duchy. As a people pleaser, she was prepared to use her relentless well of energyto tackle one task after another. She would not stop until she made the village a better place for the people. And, because she remembered what the Duke said at their last shared meal, she kept his best interests in mind as well.
The Duke had called her proper and defiant. She would be both, but she would make her qualities useful.
“So, do you think that Margaret would be best able to help you with some of the tasks?” she asked.
Mrs. Fletcher, as the housekeeper, was highly competent. However, the estate was too large to be handled by one woman alone. So, Daphne decided to find someone who could assist her in the more tiresome and tedious tasks.
“Yes, I believe so, Your Grace. Thank you,” the housekeeper said brightly. “I’ve worked for the family for decades and am happy here. However, we still follow the same rules as when the late Duke was alive.”
“His Grace, my husband, has not tried to do anything here at the estate?” Daphne asked, genuinely curious.
“Even if he wants to, he has several other responsibilities to take care of, Your Grace. He wouldn’t have the time to devote to maintaining the estate.”
“Mmm. Well, I do have the time, and I dislike being idle. What about your families and accommodations?”
“We have houses within the estate, Your Grace. That has never been a problem. My son and daughter are also employed by His Grace. Most of us have family members in the main house, although we also have family waiting for us in our houses.”
“Given by His Grace?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
There was no hint of anything other than pride in Mrs. Fletcher’s face. She seemed to be pleased and contented with her situation at Wolfcrest.
“Oh. That’s wonderful,” was all that Daphne could say.
What was I really expecting?
No matter how mysterious her husband’s activities might be, he had been generous with the people who worked at his estate. And, perhaps most importantly, the Duke had saved her from a scoundrel.
Her reactions to him? Entirely her fault.
Still, she began enjoying transforming Wolfcrest’s charcoal-gray drawing room’s design with something warmer. She also ensured fresh flowers were delivered regularly, if not daily, without further burdening the staff.
Lilacs. Tulips.
She wanted to keep him guessing. So, there were no more roses and orchids. Reading chairs were placed near the large windows. She could now breathe. The Wolfcrest estate could do the same.
Daphne also suspected that she would awaken the Duke’s curiosity. Indeed, she was right. He noticed everything. She caught him regularly flitting back to the drawing room to peek at the changes she’d applied so far in the area.
She tried her best not to comment, to just let him be, but she was losing a battle with herself.
“The Duke of Wolfcrest has been seen admiring a window,” she announced, taking on the tone of a theater host. “What a remarkable sight.”
“I am admiring the light, Duchess,” he retorted. “The room seems brighter. Perhaps it’s because you stand in it.”
She laughed at his attempt at flirtation, though she felt a little relief from it. Where had he been? She guessed he didn’t want to talk to her after what happened.
