Page 44 of Duke with a Deception
“Of course, Your Grace. Were you wanting to review the menu for this evening? His Grace informed me that you wouldn’t be leaving for Wingfield Hall until further notice, so I take that to mean you shall all have dinner here this evening.”
Verity hadn’t even begun to think of dinner. She was still worried about breakfast and the husband who had never deigned to emerge and join her.
“I am pleased to discuss the evening’s menu with you. However, there are a few other matters I wish to speak with you about first.”
Mrs. Sendall smiled patiently. “Where would you prefer to talk, Your Grace?”
Verity stared at her for a moment, suddenly struggling with her new role. She must be more than familiar with the tasks of a wife running her husband’s household. Indeed, she was born for it. But she couldn’t seem to remember what was expected of her. Or what room would be appropriate for a tête-à-tête with one’s housekeeper.
“Might I recommend the gold salon?” Mrs. Sendall inquired helpfully when Verity continued to stare at her in stupefied silence.
She cleared her throat. “That seems an excellent place.”
They moved back down the hall to the small sitting room, which was hung in gold damask and matching window dressings. There was so much gilt within the chamber, she had no doubt that when the sun shone, the effect was almost blinding.
“An interesting chamber, to be sure,” she commented lightly as she took her seat on a gilded settee.
“It was the former duchess’s favorite chamber,” Mrs. Sendall explained.
King’s mother. He never spoke of her, at least not that she could remember. She wondered what his relationship with her had been like. Had they been close companions? Had his mother been beloved to him? And why couldn’t she shake the feeling that he’d had a sibling he adored? How confusing when he’d said he had no siblings at all.
“How recently did the duchess pass away, Mrs. Sendall?” she asked, giving in to some of her curiosity. “You will forgive, I hope, that my memory is somewhat lacking. I suffered a blow to the head a few months ago that seems to have addled some of the things I am able to recall. It’s as if parts of my mind were swept away like a pile of ashes in the hearth.”
“His Grace never spoke a word of your accident,” Mrs. Sendall said, shock coloring her voice. “What a miracle it is that you’ve survived and nary a scratch on you, other than your memory.”
She nodded. “I do have a few scratches, but I am fortunate indeed to be here with you. Now then, what of Her Grace?”
“Her Grace died many years ago,” the housekeeper answered. “About twelve, I should think.”
And yet King had kept this room of hers, precisely as she had left it.
“Was His Grace close to his mother?” she asked.
“I’m sure His Grace was as fond of his mother as any son would be,” Mrs. Sendall replied, her tone careful.
There was a story there. Yet another one Verity didn’t know. One she would have to examine on her own. Her husband possessed a great deal of mysterious facets she was sure she had no notion existed.
“Of course he would have been,” she agreed politely. “His Grace is an honorable man.”
“Indeed, he is, Your Grace,” Mrs. Sendall agreed. “The most honorable of all gentlemen, to be sure.”
“I was wondering if you might share His Grace’s daily schedule with me, Mrs. Sendall,” she said, changing the subject. “I am but a novice in this household, and I wish to learn all there is to know. Is he ordinarily a late riser?”
He had been yesterday, but then they both had been.
“My, no,” the housekeeper said. “His Grace keeps late hours, but he is also often awake at dawn. Many nights, however, are like last night. He leaves in the evening and then returns the following afternoon.”
Verity blinked, certain she had misheard Mrs. Sendall. “Surely not last night.”
“Yes, last night, Your Grace,” Mrs. Sendall said. “He had inquired after the child, Miss Emma, and then he had suggested that I oversee the packing up of the nursery so that the girl can be moved accordingly. He asked for it to be done before his return later today.”
Verity felt as if all the air had been stolen from her lungs. It took her a moment of concerted effort to recover from the unexpected revelation that her husband had gone elsewhere last night instead of sleeping in his own room as she had supposedhe would. That he hadn’t informed her of his plans. That he hadn’t even told her goodbye but instead had left her to wait for him this morning at the breakfast table like a fool.
Why had he disappeared? And where had he gone? For what purpose?
An ache bloomed in her chest and misgiving swirled through her.
“I’ve already had the maids pack away everything His Grace requested,” Mrs. Sendall was saying, perhaps unaware of the unease enveloping Verity. “They are set to thoroughly beat the carpets and polish the furniture. Would Your Grace prefer for me to place a notice inThe Timeslooking for a nursemaid, or are you wanting to try Grace?”
