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Chapter Twenty-Two
When Artemis woke the following morning, it was to discover that she was alone in her bed. Dominic must have left during the wee small hours to return to his own room. Even though they were engaged, it wouldn’t do for the staff to discover them in bed together. The last thing she needed was for Dominic’s servants to begin spreading gossip about her once their engagement ended and she started her college.
Artemis smiled to herself as she stared up at the bed’s canopy of scarlet damask. She was exhausted, a little sore in places, but utterly satisfied. She’d lost count of how many times she and Dominic had made love. In fact, it had been the most wonderful night of her life. Her fiancé was a brilliant lover—attentive, considerate, adventurous, and with the stamina of a warhorse. A bubble of laughter formed in her throat whenever she recalled her pet name for Dominic’s remarkable cock.Dartmoor’s titanic truncheon. It was a pity she couldn’t use it in one of her books.
Her book…
With a yawn, Artemis pushed herself up against the pillows. As much as she’d like to lounge around all day, reminiscing about all of the things she’d done with Dominic last night, she had words to write. Lady Mirabella wasn’t going to find her happily-ever-after with her Midnight Monk unless Artemis put pen to paper.
And of course, she must endeavor to spend more time with Celeste.
She dug out a nightgown—if any of the chambermaids found Miss Jones naked in bed, that, on its own, was bound to raise an eyebrow or two—and then slipped it on before ringing the bellpull to request fresh water for bathing.
And then she pulled open the curtains and sat in the window seat with her notebook and pen and let her imagination run free.
***
After breakfast—a quiet affair in the morning room with Horatia—Artemis accepted the countess’s kind offer to show her about Ashburn Abbey. Dominic had headed out early for a ride, as was his usual custom at Ashburn, and Horatia believed he would be sequestered with his steward in his private study going over the estate’s ledgers and accounts for the rest of the day. “To be perfectly honest, my dear brother works far too hard,” Horatia said as they quit the morning room and headed for the main staircase. “But he never listens to his nagging little sister. Perhaps you’ll have more luck at getting him to change his ways when you’re married, my dear.”
Artemis offered the Countess of Northam a weak smile. “Perhaps.” Guilt pinched and she began to wonder if this tour was such a good idea after all if at every turn Horatia made mention of her engagement and a marriage that wasn’t going to happen.
Even though the rain had abated, the morning was still cold and drear as Horatia escorted Artemis through Ashburn’s main apartments. “Ashburn was originally founded by an order of Cistercian monks in the thirteenth century,” she explained as she showed Artemis through the great hall. “Queen Elizabeth gifted the land and the abbey—which had been seized during the dissolution of the monasteries—to one of our ancestors for his service to the Crown.”
“Goodness, belonging to a family that can trace its lineage back so far is mind-boggling,” said Artemis.
Horatia laughed. “Believe me, it quite boggles my mind too.”
They moved on to the family’s main living quarters and then a picture gallery containing portraits of distinguished family members, including the first Duke and Duchess of Dartmoor. At the very end of the gallery, Horatia paused before a painting of a lovely young woman with luminous green eyes that were huge in her heart-shaped face. She wore a fine gown of light-green silk, and a crown of orange blossoms and jasmine adorned her dark-brown hair.
Artemis immediately knew who it was. “It’s Juliet Winters,” she murmured.
“I thought you might like to see her likeness.” Horatia’s voice was nothing but kind. “That you’d be curious.”
“I am. Thank you.” She offered Dominic’s sister a grateful smile. “I feel honored that Dominic recently shared a little about Juliet’s illness with me. How she died. To think that he lost both a baby boy and then his wife…” She shook her head. “My heart breaks for him.”
“There are not many who have afforded my brother with such understanding.” Horatia’s gaze was direct, her manner warm as she added, “Dominicisa good man—the very best of men—and I’m so pleased that you see that. For what it’s worth, I think you will make a wonderful duchess, Artemis. Indeed, I think Dominic is very lucky to have found you. You make him happy. I can see that whenever he looks at you. And I believe, in time, that Celeste will warm to you as well.”
A blush heated Artemis’s cheeks. “Thank you for your kind words. I’ll do my best to make him happy too.”
Oh, but that was a terrible bald-faced lie, and guilt twisted Artemis’s stomach as she followed Horatia outside to take a tour of the conservatory, the orangery, and the stables.
After Horatia established that Artemis was not much of a horsewoman—in Heathwick Green, she’d never ridden anything larger than a pony on the odd occasion—they began to wander back to the house. An icy wind had picked up, and it threatened to flatten the tulips and daffodils as the two women wended their way through the neat beds of a knot garden. They’d just passed through a gap in the boxwood hedge to follow the gravel path that would lead them back to the abbey when Artemis spied a rotunda-like outbuilding with a domed roof off in the distance. It sat on a slight rise and Artemis suspected that it would afford a sweeping view of the moors.
“What’s that?” she asked. “Is it a folly of some kind?”
“No, it’s actually an observatory. Juliet used to like to stargaze. Dominic had it built for her when they were newlyweds. There’s a wonderful telescope inside and Celeste still sometimes goes there to use it. I think she fancies herself as a bit of an astronomer.”
“I recall she asked if astronomy would be one of the subjects on offer at my college.”
“Yes. It’s a shame that such an option isn’t feasible for someone like Celeste. Duke’s daughters don’t attend schools or colleges of any kind, I’m afraid.”
“Yes, it is a shame. Celeste strikes me as a very intelligent young woman. I’ve been meaning to talk to Miss Sharp about expanding her studies to include more of the natural sciences.”
A freezing blast of wind straight off the moors caught at their cloaks and bonnets and crinoline skirts, threatening to bowl them over like they were skittles.
“If you don’t mind, Artemis, I’d rather like to go back inside for a spot of tea,” said Horatia. “There’s rain in the air too. Oh, look, speak of the devil, here comes my niece.” And then she frowned. “Where are you off to, young lady?” she called down the path. “And where is your governess?”
Celeste drew closer and Artemis could see her countenance was pale and pinched with cold. But her gray eyes were clear and held no trace of melancholy or anger as she said, “She told me she was feeling poorly with the beginnings of a head cold, but I wanted to go for a walk.” She lifted her chin mulishly. “I take it that is permitted if it’s only about the grounds.”
