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CHAPTERFIFTEEN
Sitting at the supper table by herself, Edwina tried to finish her meal quietly. The servants kept eyeing her with pity, and she heard the housekeeper and butler whispering in the hall. Tears prickled her eyes from the indignation. She barely kept her composure until she made it up to her room, fists shaking as she paced back and forth.
Lizbeth hurried into the room, rushing to her side. “Your Grace, what happened?”
“Why is he such a brute?” Edwina shouted, too frustrated to explain. “He wants me to feel at home and says I should not feel like a prisoner, yet he scolds me for asking questions or chastises me for doing things in the house.”
“He’s likely just not used to having another person to be responsible for,” Lizbeth told her softly. “And men usually aren’t good about talking about their feelings.”
“My father talked about his feelings all the time,” Edwina protested, wiping her face in frustration. “He always told me how beautiful my mother was and how proud he was of me or when he was embarrassed or scared of being out at a party.”
“Your father is not a normal man in more ways than one.”
Edwina laughed at the truth Lizbeth spoke. “Look, even if His Grace was not normal, it is obvious that he has a dark tragedy in his past. He has lost his entire family, and it cannot be easy for him to be a gentleman with his…” Lizbeth waved at her face, implying the Duke’s scars.
Scoffing, Edwina shook her head. “He still has not lain with me. Surely, there must be something wrong with me?”
“Do not assume that. You have no idea what might be in his mind.” Lizbeth patted Edwina’s arm comfortingly. “This is all new and strange for you. Give it time. And honestly, aren’t you glad for some time to get to know His Grace before bedding him?”
Taking a deep breath, Edwina shrugged. “I must admit, I am afraid, but then, I think that something is wrong with me, and I want to prove that it isn’t.”
“Well, sleeping with him before you are ready is not the way for you to find your comfort.”
They sat in silence for a moment, Lizbeth smiling sympathetically at Edwina. Sighing, Edwina said, “I told him I wanted to visit my father.”
“Oh, that is a lovely idea! When would you like to go?”
“Tomorrow,” Edwina said assuredly. “I think tomorrow.”
“Then we’ll go see him tomorrow,” Lizbeth said, smoothing Edwina’s hair. “Come, let us get you ready for bed. The sooner you sleep, the sooner you can see him.”
* * *
When Edwina arrived at Haverton House the next day, the whole atmosphere had changed. She stepped in the door with Lizbeth, went past the butler, and found a stack of letters on a table in the foyer.
“Some of those are yours, Your Grace,” the butler said. “There are a few invitations, I believe — some who are not aware of your new residence.”
“I shall take them when I leave,” she assured him, touching his arm fondly. “Where is father?”
“In the solarium,” the butler said, pointing the way.
“I will go catch up with the girls downstairs,” Lizbeth told Edwina in a low voice. Edwina smiled and nodded at her, and Lizbeth disappeared down the hallway in the opposite direction.
Edwina followed the sounds of clanking and the smell of grease to the solarium. In only a few days, Father had managed to convert the shelves to workbenches and filled them with all sorts of machines and contraptions. She looked around in wonder as her father, dressed in his work clothes and a leather apron, leaned over a part with a soldering iron. He did not turn as Edwina came in, so she waited until he lifted his head before clearing her throat.
“Oh!” he said, jumping as he turned. “Edwina! I did not see you there!”
“Father!” she cried, throwing herself into his arms.
“Oh, watch out!” he protested, holding the soldering iron out wide. “Careful, dear, this is hot.” Laughing, she released him so that he could set the soldering iron back into the smoldering fire.
“You really must get some ventilation in here,” she scolded him, watching the smoke rise up to the glass ceiling.
“I have the door open,” he said dismissively, waving at the back door. “I had no idea you were coming; I would have gotten cleaned up, dear. Come, let us sit for a bit. Oh, surely you want me to wash up first. I shall call for a tray.”
“Father, it is all right,” she smiled, putting a hand on him as he turned about frantically. “I am just happy to see you.”
“Are you all right?” he asked suddenly, peering into her eyes.
