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“I am refreshed, Sally,” she said, smiling at the maid. “And ready to begin my morning toilette.” She paused. “Where is His Grace?”
The maid entered the room, opening the curtains, so that bright sunlight flooded through the windows. Patricia squinted slightly.
“His Grace is attending to business in his study,” said the maid. “He sends his regrets that he was unable to breakfast with you but says he shall endeavour to finish as soon as possible.”
Patricia nodded, climbing out of the bed. She had a whole morning to fill. She wanted to show him that she was up to the task of being the new Duchess of Merriweather. She so wanted to impress him.
As she sat at her new dressing table, letting Sally begin her work, she thought about what she needed to do. A meeting with Mrs. Clark, the housekeeper, to get an idea of the running of the household. And then she might meet with the cook as well. Her mother had advised her that she must establish a rapport with both those servants; get them onside, so that the household ran smoothly and to her liking.
Patricia took a deep breath, gazing at herself in the mirror. Yes, she was an entirely new person now. And the talk with Jackson about helping her family could wait until she found the right moment. Firmly, she pushed it out of her mind.
* * *
Jackson sighed heavily, staring down at the papers in front of him. Mr. Godwin was seated opposite, looking a bit pinched and solemn, but then, his man of affairs was never the most enthusiastic of men. He always looked as if he had just swallowed something rather unpleasant.
“Anything else?” asked Jackson, rubbing the back of his neck ruefully. It was near noon, and he wanted to get away from his desk in time for luncheon in the dining room now that Patricia was here. His heart fluttered wildly at the thought of seeing her after their passion the night before. Would she be bashful? Would it be awkward?
He had hardly been able to concentrate on his work all morning. Thoughts of her were constantly in his mind. The memory of their lovemaking kept vividly flashing into his head, so much so that he was almost in agony. Fervently he hoped that she wouldn’t be ashamed of how she had opened up to him. But shewasa lady who had been bred to believe that such passion was somehow distasteful. He just hoped she could resolve it and realize that it was completely natural.
Mr. Godwin coughed into his hand. “There is one more matter, your Grace.” He paused, staring at Jackson as solemnly as an owl. “It seems that your bid to become the sole investor in Pepper’s Power Looms has been trumped.”
Jackson stared at the man in dismay. He had been eager to invest in Pepper’s Power Looms. They were one of the fastest growing companies in England as more factories opened throughout the country. Pepper’s supplied the textile industry with all important power looms. It was an opportunity to vastly expand his income beyond the landholding on his Norfolk estate. Mr. Godwin had concurred that securing the deal would reap a fabulous return that would boost the duchy’s coffers significantly for years to come.
He sighed, fighting back a wave of disappointment. His late father, in his laudanum addled mind, had flittered away a large portion of the estate’s funds in his final year. This opportunity would have replaced it all and made much more besides. Jackson had seen it as a way of building wealth not just for the duchy but for his future heir…and other children, if he and Patricia were blessed with them, of course.
“That is disappointing,” he said slowly. “Do you know who the investor is, who trumped our offer?”
The man consulted his notebook. “A Lord Cardigan, your Grace.” He looked up at Jackson, blinking rapidly behind his spectacles. “Are you familiar with the gentleman?”
Jackson swore underneath his breath. Mr. Godwin looked a bit shocked.
“Yes, I am familiar with the gentleman,” he said, through gritted teeth. “I am very familiar with him, much to my misfortune.” Anger swept through his veins. “I would bet my last guinea he has done this purely out of spite. He must have known that I was angling for that investment.”
Mr. Godwin closed his notebook. “Well, you could be correct, your Grace. His offer was far and above what we offered. A ludicrous sum, really, offered purely to make sure he clinched the deal.” He paused. “There are other companies though, your Grace, that could bring a good return. Shall I make an inventory of them for your perusal?”
“Do that,” said Jackson, standing up. “I think we are done for the morning, Mr. Godwin. I must attend my new wife and see how she is settling in.”
“Of course, your Grace,” said the man, standing up. “May I say how charming the new Duchess is? Everyone remarked upon it at your wedding breakfast. A fine choice.”
“Thank you, Mr. Godwin,” said Jackson, forcing a smile onto his face. “Sheischarming and much more besides. A jewel among women.”
Mr. Godwin looked a trifle embarrassed, drifting out of the room.
Jackson followed in his wake. He had asked Mrs. Clark to make sure luncheon was delivered at exactly half past noon and he was already a little late.
He tried to push the thought of Cardigan out of his mind, but the man lingered there like a bad smell. He knew now, from Mr. Godwin’s comment, that Cardigan had deliberately usurped him, just as he suspected. He would let this go, but if the man kept interfering in his business he would have to take a stand. Cardigan was obviously seeking to undermine him.
As he strode down the long hallway towards the dining room, he thought of Patricia. Cardigan had made a play for her as well. He had always suspected the man had shown such immediate interest in her just because of him – to try to take something away which he coveted. And now, on the back of what had just happened, he was sure of it.
How was the man going to react when he discovered that Jackson had won the prize, and they were already married?
* * *
Patricia was already seated at the long table when he entered the room. He stopped abruptly, gazing at her. His wife.
She was dressed in a pale lemon morning gown, suitable for a day at home. Her golden curls were firmly ringleted, cascading around her face, with the rest of her hair drawn back into a tight bun. Briefly, he was assailed with the vision of her hair, as he had left her this morning, fanning out on her pillow like a golden aura.
Quickly, he took his seat, at the head of the table, smiling at her.
