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The maid didn’t move.
‘Could you bring chocolate—several hours from now?’ Bellona asked.
‘If you are certain,’ the maid said finally.
Bellona crawled back into bed and covered a yawn before speaking. She didn’t know how she would inform the duke she could not read—ever—but she was too tired to tell him now. She could not even remember the letters of her own name, and could barely hold her eyes open. ‘I am certain. I cannot see him now. I must sleep.’
The maid nodded. ‘I will tell His Grace your head pains you.’
* * *
Rhys sat in the overstuffed chair in the library, a stack of unread newspapers on the table beside him. He’d changed from his riding clothes after he’d seen the maid, eyes averted, rush by the door with a tray. His mother had eaten. He had eaten. The tray could only be for one person who was not in his mother’s room, nor in any of the common areas of the house.
He would not go to her chamber and find her. She would have to leave it some time. The woman did not sit about in her room with books or sewing or staring out of the window as his mother did. She flitted around the house and the gardens—a bird moving from one berry to the next with a flight of fancy behind her eyes.
He’d worked the ledgers and made notes for Simpson and now Rhys started with the oldest newspaper, more aware of the sounds of the house than the print before him. He tended to let them gather before he read them. Perusing them in the carriage on his trips to and from London didn’t work out well. His eyes could not adjust to the jostling. He’d tried. Now he used the travelling time to review things in his head. On occasion he’d had his man of affairs ride with him so they could plan. The trip certainly went faster, but he didn’t like to take Simpson from his home because he knew the man preferred staying near his wife.
The clock chimed one note.
He turned the page. The library had been both his mother and father’s favourite place. To be allowed to sit there with his parents and older siblings had been a treat when he was a child. Whoever sat in the library could tell most of the movements about the residents on this side of the house.
He did not think he could have missed seeing Miss Cherroll if she had left her bedchamber. He snapped the paper straight. Five times servants had whisked by the door, certainly having been summoned by his mother or Bellona. The staff was well trained to stay invisible otherwise.
Even the paper didn’t look to have been ironed properly. He’d smudged a word with his hand, and the smear vastly irritated him.
Something creaked. A door softly shut. No footsteps sounded, but he could almost feel her movements. He lowered the print enough so he could look over it.
‘Miss Cherroll,’ he said before she even appeared at the opening.
A rap sounded at the wall. He would wager that was a bow bumping wood.
She stepped to the threshold.
When she met his eyes, the bow was held in both hands, flat to her chest. The quiver cinched the dull fabric of her dress.
‘Oh, Miss Cherroll,’ he continued, ‘I see you have arrived to practise your reading.’
He stood, folding the paper. Shadows rested under her eyes and her hair was more mussed than usual. Compassion touched him. Perhaps the maid had told the truth. Perhaps Bellona had really been feeling ill.
‘Do you need a medicinal prepared?’ he asked.
Puzzlement. He saw it. Puzzlement in her eyes and then the memory washing over her. The wench had forgotten she was supposed to be unwell.
‘I am fine. Now,’ she added. Her shoulders dropped and her chin weakened.
He looked at her the same way he’d reprimanded the gamekeeper. ‘Wonderful. Then we will read.’
‘I must practise my archery.’
‘I am rushed for time. I think it would be best if we worked together first.’
‘I should have a tutor,’ she said. ‘I cannot take you from your duties.’
He placed the paper on the desk as she spoke. Now he put a hand on his heart. ‘I cannot think of any duty more important than your education, Miss Cherroll.’
‘I have changed my mind.’
‘I have not.’
‘I cannot learn.’ She shook her head. ‘I have no mind for it.’
‘Nonsense. You and I will have hours and hours of nothing but lessons until you learn.’
‘You will be wasting your time.’ The chin went up. ‘I cannot even remember all the letters.’
‘Then we will start there.’
She shook her head. ‘I have already tried. I have tried and I have tried.’
‘Last night?’
She nodded.
If the paleness of her face told the truth, then perhaps she had worried over it. He wanted to reassure her. But he could think of only one way to do that. ‘You will be reading in no time.’
