The Duke's Accidental Wife (Dukes of War Book 7) (11 page)

There must be something that could be done.

Ravenwood had his secret garden. Thus, there was no reason why she could not have a small corner of this enormous manor to call her own. A few antiquities. A cozy hearth. One tiny room in all this vastness where she could finally feel like she belonged.

Ever since the butler’s pronouncement that the staff had been explicitly ordered to grant any request she might have, Kate had been unable to quit the idea from her head.

She wouldn’t nuisance Ravenwood with such an insignificant request. He was responsible for some sort of parliamentary committee that was swallowing every spare moment of his time. The greatest favor she could do for him was to suss out an appropriately unassuming little room as far from his office as possible, so as not to bother him when he
was
at home.

It took days to walk every inch of the estate, evaluating each potential chamber in her spare time. At last, she found the perfect parlor in the rear of the property. It was the smallest, emptiest, most out-of-the-way room in the manor, making it uniquely perfect as a space to call her own.

She clasped her hands together and twirled about the little gold-and-white room with a smile. She’d settled on Egyptian, just like the sitting room in her old townhouse. In fact, she had sent for every object in that very room. The crates would be arriving at any moment. She grinned.

If she couldn’t go home, she would simply make a new home right here.

The only item in the otherwise vacant parlor was a family portrait upon the far wall. She gazed at the family in the portrait. ’Twas not difficult to pick out the previous Duke of Ravenwood. He looked almost exactly like her husband.

A man who confounded her expectations at every turn.

The portrait looked less than twenty years old. Normally, Kate was fanatical about historical accuracy when she themed a chamber, but in this case, she intended to leave the painting exactly where it hung. It would be the centerpiece, the key difference between her previous Egyptian sitting room and this new one.

The old townhouse had belonged to Kate. This new home, she shared with her husband. She
liked
feeling that he would be a part of her special room as well.

He was exactly what she’d always believed him to be. Proud. Arrogant. Intelligent. But he was also so much more than that. So much deeper. She hadn’t imagined him to possess many secrets, much less something so romantic as a private garden.

If she’d begun to like him before, she was positively fascinated by him now. She just wished there was more opportunity to spend time together. Learning about his estate did make her feel closer to him, but it was no substitute for the man himself.

Until recently, she had believed life was always easy for a duke. She now realized his had been no easier than her own. They had both lost their parents at a young age. But where Kate had been taken in by the most kindhearted, loving people she could ever imagine being blessed with, Ravenwood had spent his formative years desperately proving himself better than the uncle who wished him dead in order to inherit.

He’d overcome that, obviously. In spades. He’d also mastered his own shyness to such a degree that Kate hadn’t even suspected he possessed the trait. Much as she never would have imagined him toiling in a garden.

He was the most unpredictable man she had ever known. A puzzle for her to unwrap and put together. Her heart thumped at the idea.

She had never felt awkward amongst groups of people, large or small, but anxiousness now plagued her when she thought of her husband. What must he think of her? She did not know. Wasn’t certain she wished to know.

Did he even wish to spend more time with her? Or was she simply one more name in the long list of people he’d feel more comfortable without?

She stared down at her journals and their pages of notes. Her fingers trembled. She would not be doing all of this if some part of her hadn’t decided to avoid an annulment at all costs. Now that she had Ravenwood, she didn’t want to let go.

She had hundreds of friends, thousands of acquaintances, but the only opinion that truly mattered, the only person whose respect she most desired…was his.

Perhaps once she proved herself Lady Amelia’s equal in the management of this estate, he would
want
her as his wife, rather than simply be shackled to her. Perhaps someday, they could be partners. She bit her lip.

They still had not consummated their marriage. He hadn’t so much as knocked upon her bedchamber, much less kissed her, since that night. A week was perhaps not a terribly long time, but to a bride who spent every night staring at their adjoining door, it had felt like a lifetime.

She knew she had disappointed him. Their compromise had ruined his life as much as it had ruined hers. But it didn’t have to be terrible indefinitely. She was learning the estate. Starting to feel at home. She took a deep breath. Soon, she would make him proud.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. “Your grace? Where would you like these crates?”

Joy filled her at the sight of her carefully wrapped treasures. “Set them against that wall until we can retrieve what’s inside. Have you a hammer? Yes, perfect. Go ahead and open the lids. That’s one of the pharaoh’s chairs! They’ll go over there, please. Be on the lookout for carvings. You found the crate of scarab vases? Wait for the lion’s paw tables first. Those will go over here. Oh, the papyri! Please mount them on the walls opposite the windows.”

The footmen rushed to do her bidding. Every corner of the room would soon have history to feast her eyes upon.

She bounced on her toes. This many people, this many moving parts, was absolutely invigorating. Excitement coursed through her. She loved decorating, loved history, loved rediscovering ancient treasures. This parlor wouldn’t be a mirror image of her old sitting room—it would be even better.

“Kate? Kate?” Aunt Havens dashed into the room, eyes wide. Her voice was high pitched and desperate. “I can’t find the dog!”

The footmen froze in unison, their brows furrowing with confusion.

Kate ignored them and forced herself to smile. “Don’t be concerned, Aunt. You know how he likes to hide under beds. This house is a positive treasure trove of new hiding spots for him. He’s perfectly fine.”

Relief washed across Aunt Havens’ face. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. I’m being foolish.”

Kate gave her a heartfelt embrace. She held onto her aunt a moment too long. “Where’s your embroidery? If you work on that for a while, I’m sure he’ll turn up. You know how he hates to be ignored.”

Aunt Havens chortled. “True, true. I will do exactly that. Thank you, my dear.”

Kate kept the merriest smile she could firmly in place until her aunt disappeared down the corridor.

It was a bad day, that’s all. Everyone was entitled to one now and again.

The move hadn’t been any less stressful on Aunt Havens, so it was little wonder she should have a momentary relapse.

Weeks had passed since she’d last mentioned the dog. Months, perhaps. Kate straightened her spine. Aunt Havens was getting better, not worse.

In a few hours, she would be the same wise old aunt again, and have no memory at all of even asking such a silly thing. There was positively no cause for alarm. Aunt Havens was fine. She was going to outlive them all.

“There’s no dog,” she said to the staring footmen, her voice coming out harsher than she intended. “Are you finished unpacking the crates?”

They still didn’t move. The noise had attracted more than Aunt Havens.

“What’s going on in here?” asked a low, dangerous voice.

Kate whirled to see her husband towering in the parlor entryway. Her stomach dropped at the sight.

Veins stood out on his face and neck. His eyes were wild. “What are you doing in here? Get out. Get everything out.
Now!
”

Fear and confusion gripped her. She reached out a hand. “I—”

“Do not speak to me until this room is precisely how you found it. And then never enter it again.”

His words were a snarl, but his eyes bespoke some unfathomable hurt. Before she could explain her actions, he turned and stalked away.

Chapter Eleven

No matter how badly Kate longed for an explanation, she refused to gossip about her husband to their servants. He wanted a proper duchess. She was trying her best to be the sort of wife he might have actually chosen.

It meant keeping quiet. It meant staying out of his way. Above all, it meant keeping her personality as bottled up as possible.

She yearned for their marriage to succeed, and yet kept managing to push Ravenwood further away, without even knowing why. Every time she risked being herself, it only made things worse.

As soon as her cherished possessions had been stuffed back into crates and summarily returned to Kate’s townhouse, she paid a visit to the one person who might have answers.

Lady Amelia.

“Did you ask him about it?” was the first thing Lady Amelia said after pouring a fresh cup of tea.

Kate shook her head. The moment had been too awful. She hadn’t seen him since. Her heart twisted. “If you could have seen his face… No. It was not the moment for questions.”

Lady Amelia nodded as if that was what she’d expected to hear. “I imagine not. It’s…complicated.”

Kate waited. She was not hungry for tea. She wanted to understand her husband. To make him happy.

“You have a fine eye for decorating,” Lady Amelia said presently. “How would you describe the interior style of Ravenwood House?”

Dreary
was the first word to come to Kate’s mind. She opted not to share it.

“Staid. Classic,” she said instead. “I imagine it looks much the same now as it did twenty or thirty years ago when your father was duke.”

“It looks
exactly
the same.” Lady Amelia sighed. “Down to the button. Every carpet, every nightstand, every sconce upon every wall. It is like walking into the past.”

“Your brother kept it that way as a shrine to your parents?”

Lady Amelia’s smile was mirthless. “If only it were that simple. Uncle Blaylock—the one you did
not
meet the other day, and likely never will—was our guardian after our parents died. He was merely heir presumptive, but he acted as though the dukedom already belonged to him. His first act was to remake Ravenwood House into his own.”

“He…redecorated?”

“He gutted our home,” Lady Amelia said flatly. “Uncle Blaylock fancies himself the world’s greatest hunter. Down came cherished heirlooms and Mother’s collection of watercolors. Up went Uncle Blaylock’s trophies. The room you described was once our favorite room in the entire estate. Father had commissioned custom-carved furniture as a special gift to the family, so we would have somewhere to read together. Uncle Blaylock sold every piece in order to put boar’s heads upon the walls, bear carcasses upon the floor, and fill the shelves with stuffed chipmunks with marble eyes that Uncle Blaylock stitched himself.”

Kate shivered. “It’s empty now, the parlor. Save for a single portrait upon the wall.”

Lady Amelia nodded. “That portrait was painted in that very room, and is the sole extant memory of how the parlor used to look. The missing pieces were sold, or broken, or lost. There’s no chance of ever having them back again. Of recreating the room that housed our happiest childhood memories. Ravenwood has spent the past many years restoring the rest of the manor to the exact condition it was when our parents were still alive, but the thing he wants the most is the one thing he cannot have.”

“To restore your family’s sitting room.”

“To be
happy
. He thinks the only way to create happiness in the future is by resurrecting the past. It doesn’t work. I tried it. The only way to be happy in the future, is to be happy
now
.”

“How?” Kate asked dully. Her stomach sank. Their problems weren’t as simple as her having a horror of childbirth and him needing an heir. He didn’t want just any family. He wanted the one he used to have. He wanted to rewrite time. “For better or worse, he’s stuck with me.”

“For better or worse,” Lady Amelia agreed and took a sip of tea. “When I set out to get a husband, Lord Sheffield was the furthest candidate from my mind. Just because you didn’t plan to end up with each other doesn’t mean you’re wrong for each other.”