Page 28 of A Duke in Autumn

Of course, she was far from dull, in actuality – but all of the things that made her interesting were things which would lessen her suitability in his mother’s eyes. He shook his head – why was he even thinking about her? She had fled from him when he had kissed her, no matter that she had melted into it at first, and now she had returned to her home.

He would likely never see her again – so any thinking he did about her was to no point – what his mother might have thought of her would never be brought to the test.

They drew up at the front of the house, and Morris was glad to stretch his legs after sitting for so long. He left his valet and the footmen to see to his luggage, and took himself inside.

“Good day, Porter – where might I find my mother?”

The butler bowed, impeccably formal, but his eyes held sympathy – he knew the Duchess’ moods well.

“Your Grace, you will find her in the blue parlour.”

Morris nodded.

“If you will inform her of my arrival, I will just go up and freshen up my appearance, then I will join her.”

“Very good, Your Grace. Shall I have a tea service sent in?”

“Please do.”

Once in his rooms, he sent a footman to fetch a basin of water, and asked Sutton to assist him in changing. Fifteen minutes later, feeling refreshed, and presentable, he went back downstairs – the sooner he allowed his mother to lecture him, the sooner he would be able to get on with everything else. He was quite certain that estate matters awaited his decisions.

In the parlour, his mother sat in her favourite chair, where the last of the afternoon sun warmed her through the window, and gave her the best light for her embroidery. He wondered what her current project was – she never seemed to stop making things, and the house was filled with examples of her work, from wall hangings to handkerchiefs. She put it carefully aside as he entered, and reached to pour him a cup of tea.

He bowed to her, then dropped into the chair opposite hers.

“How are you, Mother? I trust that you have kept well, while I have been away? Lady Bellinghaugh sends her best wishes, by the way.”

“I am well enough, as always. Is Lady Bellinghaugh also well?”

“She is – I expect, each time that I visit, that she will have changed, that age will have finally slowed her down – but it does not. She is as spry and sharp witted as ever.”

“That is good to hear.” The Duchess fixed him with a somewhat stern look as he sipped his tea. This was the moment, he knew – that they had already managed two minutes conversation before she came to the subject of marriage was rather a miracle. “But what of you? Did you meet any eligible young ladies in Bath? Dare I hope that one took your fancy enough for you to consider marriage?”

Morris sighed.

“There were, as was to be expected, a number of young ladies of excellent family in residence. But none of them truly interested me.”

Even as he said it, he knew that he lied.

For Lady Eugenia had interested him – at first, as a passing amusement, but then… he pushed the thought aside – it was not something which he was going to reveal to his mother. She shook her head, her face filled with disappointment.

“Morris, you must choose a woman to marry, soon – you are near thirty, you have no heir – you must stop this stubborn delay and marry! I want grandchildren, and I want to go to my grave knowing that the inheritance of the title is assured!”

He gritted his teeth – this conversation had already happened a thousand times, and he knew that it would likely happen a thousand more, only ceasing on the day that his marriage actually took place.

“Mother, I am deeply aware of my duty to the title – you have made sure of that, repeatedly. I will marry – but when I am ready, to a woman of my choice, one who I feel that I can bear to live with, happily, for the rest of my life. I will not make myself, or any woman, miserable, just to be married sooner.” The Duchess shook her head again, and sipped her tea. He had not heard the last of this today, he knew. Unbidden, Lady Eugenia’s face came to his mind – what would it be like, to live with her? Not so difficult, he imagined, which surprised him, for, always before, when he had asked himself that with respect to any woman, his immediate internal response had been one of horror at the idea. He left that question for later contemplation, and took the chance to change the topic of conversation. “Leaving the topic of my eventual marriage aside, what do you have planned for the next few weeks, here? What do I need to know about?”

The Duchess put down her tea cup, and lifted the tray of biscuits.

He took one, and bit into the crumbly raisin studded lump as she answered.

“There is to be a dinner party here next week, and one the week after, as well as a Ball at the Frompton estate at the end of the month. Each occasion will put you in the company of some delightful young women. I can only hope…”

~~~~~

Eugenia allowed the book to fall to her lap. The story simply did not engage her attention. She had been home for a week now, and it was as if the time in Bath had never happened. She had fallen back into the old pattern of her life so easily. But now, it seemed dull, compared to those weeks in Bath, where Oakthorpe’s teasing, and Lady Annet’s encouragement, had led her to be so much more daring than she had ever been before.

She was curled in the seat of the bay window in the family parlour and, outside, the view was of the trees lining the drive, all the way to where it curved to run down to the gates. She watched the leaves fluttering in the light wind – every so often, one would lose its grip on the tree, and be torn off, to float away, pretty as it caught the sunlight, but doomed to die as winter inevitably approached. It was visible evidence of the endless cycle of things – no matter how beautiful the spring looked, the winter would arrive again – nothing ever changed, really.