Discouraging the Duke by Alexa Aston
Chapter Twenty-Six
Emery sat with her mother and Cook, going over the final details for the wedding breakfast.
“I think His Grace’ll be right pleased,” Cook said. “We’ll be serving some of his favorite dishes.”
“As long as we have cake, he will be happy,” she said, thinking it endearing that Miles had such a love for cake.
“He always did have a sweet tooth,” Cook told her. “He was a good little boy. I hope you have a dozen little ones just like him.”
Her cheeks heated, thinking that the possibility of a new Notley might be growing in her womb even as they spoke.
“Are you certain you are happy with the ceremony being held at Wildwood?” her mother asked. “I did check and the village church is available in case you have changed your mind.”
“No, I think a garden wedding will be lovely this time of year,” she said. “All we need to know now is how many guests will attend the breakfast.”
She knew Miles was stopping by his former school to see if any of his tutors would be available to attend the ceremony. They had decided to keep the ceremony small but open up the breakfast to his tenants and household staff, as well as people from Woodmorrow. She believed he was eager to show off the place that he now called home and at the same time share the happy occasion with the people at Wildwood. She doubted any duke in England had invited so many commoners to his wedding breakfast. It made her love him all the more.
“If that’s everything, I have work to attend to,” Emery said, excusing herself and heading to the steward’s office.
She said hello to the footman standing outside. Her parents had moved into the main house, with Mama telling Papa that the duke wanted his estate manager to reside here from now on. Papa took the news in stride and even mentioned how he enjoyed the bed he now slept in far better than the one in the cottage. Her parents took meals with Emery in a small sitting room that was adjacent to their bedchamber since her mother felt eating with the large staff below stairs would be too overwhelming for him.
It was her mother’s idea to station a footman outside the office each day. That way, if Papa got into his head to leave, the footman could follow at a discreet distance and keep him out of trouble. As of now, Papa was still physically fit. If or when the day came that he was bedridden, Mama would create a schedule of servants that could rotate and sit with Papa and tend to his needs.
Her mother pointed out how generous it was for Miles to have them live at Wildwood and still allow her to keep her position. For now, Emery managed estate affairs but when she and Miles returned from their honeymoon, they would discuss which of his stewards from the multitude of his estates they visited would be promoted to the same position at Wildwood. While she always wanted to have a hand in the estate, she knew, as the new duchess, she would be taking on additional responsibilities. She was willing to help whoever took the position, though, and would occasionally look in on things to see how they were running, knowing her husband would also do the same.
Her father scribbled on a page as she came in and didn’t acknowledge her presence. Emery seated herself behind her desk and began attending to the correspondence awaiting her. She had only been at it half an hour when Trottmann entered, his smile broad.
“His Grace’s carriage has been sighted, Miss Jenson.”
She quickly rose to her feet, her insides exploding with butterflies.
“Thank you, Mr. Trottmann.”
She followed him from the office and he said, “You must refer to me as Trottmann.”
His words puzzled her. “I am only showing you the respect that your position deserve.”
“You are the future Duchess of Winslow. You need to address me as Trottmann.”
Emery shook her head. “I still find it a little hard to believe. You have outranked me in the household for so long.”
“And now you shall be the head of it with His Grace,” the butler said. “The staff is most happy with His Grace’s choice in a wife. You are universally loved.”
“Don’t be foolish,” she said as the butler opened the door and they stepped out into the bright sunshine.
The carriage pulled up and before it came to a complete stop, the door swung open. Miles bounded from it and raced to her, catching her by the waist and swinging her about. Then he stopped and gave her a long, satisfying kiss.
“I missed you,” he said.
“I missed you more,” she told him, breathless. “So much that I may not let you leave again without me.”
He laughed and kissed her again, only breaking it when someone cleared his throat. Emery peered over Miles’ shoulder and saw a very handsome man nearby, about six feet tall and with an athletic build. His dark blond was a little longer than fashionable and his bright blue eyes shone with mischief.
“Emery, may I introduce to you my good friend, the Reverend William Finchley. Finch, this is Miss Emery Jenson, soon to be the Duchess of Winslow.”
The clergyman took her hand and kissed it. “I can see now why my solemn friend lights up whenever he mentions your name. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Jenson.”
“Likewise, Reverend Finchley. You are the first Terror I am meeting.”
A knowing smile spread across the vicar’s face. “Ah, so he has told you of us?”
“Some. Not nearly enough. I expect you to spill all his secrets,” she teased.
“If I am to do so, you must call me Finch. I look upon Miles as a brother and feel you will be a sister to me.”
“Then I am to be Emery.”
“You will soon be dead, Finch, unless you release my fiancée’s hand,” Miles said.
Finch kissed her hand again and whispered, “I do love antagonizing him.” Then he released it.
Miles slipped it possessively through his arm and glanced to where Trottmann, Crowder, and her mother stood.
“Ah, here are my butler, Trottmann, and Emery’s mother, who serves as Wildwood’s housekeeper. And my sullen valet, who was upset that I did not take him with me on my quick sojourn. You can also wait on the good reverend, Crowder. He will adore the attention you bestow upon him.”
“I’ve sent hot water to both your chambers, Your Grace,” her mother said. “Perhaps once you freshen up, you would like tea.”
“Yes, please. In the drawing room,” Miles said.
“Let me escort you to your guest chamber, Reverend Finchley,” Trottmann said.
They all entered the house and Emery walked Miles to his rooms.
“Has everything gone smoothly in my absence? No trouble from my mother or Baron Haddoway?”
“Her Grace left the day after you departed and the dower house has been cleaned and aired again. Its staff has now been absorbed back into the main house. As for the baron, I haven’t been to the village, as you requested.”
Emery had been shocked to hear of Haddoway’s abuse of the duchess and had no problem remaining at Wildwood while Miles had been gone.
“What of your parents?” he asked. “Are they settled here?”
“Yes. Mama says they have everything they need.”
“How do you find the duchess’ suite?”
“Incredibly large. And terribly lonely,” she added.
Miles slipped an arm around her waist. “We can remedy that tonight. I hope that you will join me each evening, Emery. I want to fall asleep with you in my arms and awake each morning and make love to you.”
His words warmed her. “I doubt it’s done that way but I am more than happy to spend my nights with you.”
He paused in front of his door. “I love you.” He kissed her, giving her a small preview of what would come later that evening.
“I love you more. Ridiculously more,” she said saucily.
“We shall see about that.”
“I’ll see to tea. I cannot wait to get to know Finch better.”
Miles frowned. “It may be hard. He isn’t as open as the other Terrors. We all were sent to Turner Academy for various reasons, none of them valid. Finch, though, is the only one of us who never shared why his family abandoned him there.”
“It isn’t important,” she assured him. “Finch is your friend. That’s all I truly need to know.”
He went to kiss her again and she stepped away. “Go wash, Your Grace. I will be waiting for you in the drawing room.”
Half an hour later, Emery had a maid roll in the teacart and found both her fiancé and his longtime friend already present. She dismissed the maid and poured out for the two men and then herself.
Watching Finch only put two items on his plate, she clucked her tongue. “You will be on Cook’s naughty list if you eat no more than that, Finch.”
“I was being polite,” he proclaimed.
“Cook values a hearty appetite over politeness,” she said. “So, tell me all about my future husband.”
The young clergyman entertained her with various stories of Miles and the other Turner Terrors.
“I am sorry your fellow Terrors cannot be with us,” she said. “You seem like family.”
“We are,” declared Finch. “We always will be.”
“I must thank you for coming to Wildwood and agreeing to perform our wedding ceremony.”
Finch looked at her blankly. “I am?”
“Miles,” she chided. “Did you not ask Finch to do so?”
He looked at her sheepishly. “I meant to. I just assumed he would.”
“I will do it for Emery because I believe she will keep you on the straight and narrow,” Finch said.
“Is anyone else outside of Wildwood coming?” she asked.
“Yes. Knowing the school was on its summer break, I went to Lord and Lady Marksbys’ estate, Markham Park, which is only an hour from Turner Academy. Lord Marksby was friends with the Turner brothers and gave them the funding to begin the academy. They also invited the school’s tutors and any students remaining to visit for a few weeks during the summer. The Terrors and I went every year.”
It hurt her heart to know Miles and his friends were so unwanted by their families that they even spent holidays at the school.
“The Marksbys never had children and treated the Terrors as their own,” Finch explained. “Lord Marksby also offered me the living associated with Markham Park. Once I finished university, I knew the path I would take.”
“Both Lord and Lady Marksby will be in attendance,” Miles continued. “As will Mr. Nehemiah and Mr. Josiah and their wives. Since they were both Mr. Turner, that is how we distinguished them from one another.”
“I am happy they agreed to come,” Emery said.
“They’ll arrive Thursday, the day before the ceremony, along with Mr. Whitby, who taught languages, and Mr. Morris, who was the mathematics tutor. And Mr. Smythe.”
“Who is he?” she asked.
“Mr. Smythe was a general servant,” her betrothed explained. “He did a little of everything at the academy and was someone the Terrors turned to for advice.”
“I look forward to meeting all of them. I need to let Mama know who is arriving so that enough bedchambers can be prepared for them.” She rose. “In the meantime, why don’t you show Finch the portrait of Garrick Notley and tell him about the journal.”
“Who is Garrick Notley?” Finch asked.
“An ancestor of mine whom Emery found in the attic. His portrait. Not a dead body,” Miles quipped.
“Too bad. It had all the makings of a fascinating story.”
“It still is. Let’s go see Garrick—and my portraits, as well. I want you to see Tony,” Miles said quietly.
Emery left them and went to find her mother, informing her of the guests that would be arriving on Thursday and then sharing the same information with Cook.
She returned to the office to finish up her correspondence, satisfied that Miles would have people dear to him at their wedding ceremony.
One letter was from Mr. Fillmore, apologizing for not having replied to her inquiry regarding employment agencies sooner. He and his wife had gone to visit their son’s family and had been away from London for a week. She said a quick prayer, knowing if the solicitor had answered her letter sooner, she might have left Wildwood, missing out on the life she would soon share with Miles.
Opening the final letter, she began reading and gasped. She forced herself to finish it and then folded it, placing it in her pocket.
The letter was unsigned. It spewed vile things about her. Intuition told her Baron Haddoway had written it. She was afraid to show it to Miles, fearing he would immediately call for Zeus and ride straight to the baron’s estate and pummel him again.
Or worse.
Instead, she slipped the letter from her pocket and opened the bottom drawer of her desk, secreting it where she had placed the sketch of Miles that Lawrence Leavell had given her. She wouldn’t trouble her fiancé about the anonymous ramblings. In three days’ time, she would be the Duchess of Winslow and have the protection of his name.
Emery hoped that would be enough.