The Duke's Headstrong Woman (Strong Women Find True Love 2)

"Welcome, Lord Beckham, to Emerys, and to Lord Havenshire's manor," the older woman said, nodding. "I'm Ms. Mulwray, and this is Egan. We'd be delighted to take you to the—"

"Excuse me, yes, it's a pleasure, but I'm in quite a bit of a haste," Lord Beckham insisted. A sudden urgency filled his head; he realized all at once just where he had arrived, and who lived inside. He recalled her face - beautiful, but vexed the last he had seen it. Vexed with pained thoughts and regret. He knew, in his heart, he shouldn't have come; any time he blinked, he saw only flashes of his painful day, his dashed wedding in the Delshire Moors.

"Apologies, then, Lord Beckham," the old woman said, a slight irritation in her tone. "Let me lead you to the dining room, then, where you'll find Lord Havenshire waiting to discuss a matter of some importance." The portly man bowed courteously to Lord Beckham as he passed through the doors, the wooded interior rather inviting and every surface polished to a gleam. Maidservants cluttered the furnished foyer, their eyes alight with impish curiosity as they saw the dark man pass through the entryway. The doors swung open to a cavernous dining hall, with lanterns lit low and curtains drawn across the fading daylight beaming through short, squat windows. At the end of the table, he saw what looked like a withered husk of a man - skin pale, his body clearly ravaged with pain as he struggled to appear welcoming, with lifting his arms quite an exhausting task for the man, his hair spotty and gray.

"Lord Beckham! I've not had the pleasure of welcoming you to the manor yet," Lord Havenshire announced, before a spat of coughs interrupted his words. Lady Henrietta sat at the pained man's flank, sipping on a cup of tea, her eyelids fluttering innocently at Lord Beckham, though he could see the conspiratorial glint in her gaze. Humbly Lord Beckham bowed, crossing wordlessly through the threshold and towards the two of them.

"A pleasure indeed," Lord Beckham finally said, and only then upon coming close to Lord Havenshire did he realize just how dire the situation was for the lord. Lady Henrietta remained silent - a rarity for her - though the little smile on her face said all that she wanted to say, letting Lord Beckham know she had been the little bird whispering in Lord Havenshire's ear about the meeting between Nadia and Marshall the night before.

"A friend of mine, Lady Henrietta,," Lord Beckham introduced.

"Oh, we're quite the friends, aren't we, Marshall?" Lady Henrietta beamed, clearly quite proud of having tried her hand at playing matchmaker between lords and ladies. She clearly appeared to think Lord Beckham would appreciate the gesture, just as clearly as she clearly expected he would thank her profusely for finding him a potential wife. Instead, his words remained hasty.

"Yes, I know Lady Henrietta well, and I'm quite certain I know why I've been asked to come to the estate, m'lord," Lord Beckham nodded to the older man, who smiled wide, always wearing the mask of confidence in spite of his condition. "However, I'm not certain I'm the man you're looking for, for Nadia." That statement shocked Lady Henrietta, whose expression turned at once from smug satisfaction to mild frustration.

"Oh, come now darling, you're certainly underselling yourself! Now's the time to over

sell yourself," Lady Henrietta chortled. "Lord Havenshire's invited you to speak on a great many things, hasn't he?" she looked hopeful towards the lord, who himself seemed at a loss for words. He certainly wasn't used to men so blatant in their desire - or lack thereof - to court his daughter.

"Lady Henrietta," he said, his flight instincts urging him to flee, as the bitter memories of Anna flooded his every sense, "I sincerely appreciate you introducing me to Lord Havenshire, but I'm... well, my meeting last evening with Lady Havenshire was most pleasant, but—"

"Of course it was! She's a lovely girl, and you made quite an impression, didn't you? I could see the smile on her face," Lady Henrietta insisted. "Now, you've been invited here to have a pleasant conversation, and it'd be quite crass to refuse Lord Havenshire that, wouldn't it?"

"Lady Henrietta," Marshall again insisted firmly, "I have to say, you didn't quite see the full extent of Lady Havenshire and I's interaction. I'm not certain you know what happened, and for that reason I have to ask you to... kindly, keep quiet," Lord Beckham said, eliciting a shocked gasp from Lady Henrietta.

"Marshall! I've worked quite diligently to convince Lord Havenshire to invite you here," Lady Henrietta squealed. "Now, it's quite insulting of you to deny his hospitality! Lord Havenshire, I apologize, but I—"

"I've got an idea," Lord Havenshire interjected diplomatically with a faint smile. "No offense, Lady Henrietta, but I've something I really want to show Lord Beckham. Alone. How about we go out to the stables and I show you the family horses? Nadia's quite enamored with them, and I think it'd give us a chance to talk," he finished; Lord Beckham heard Lady Henrietta let out a loud humph.

"I'm... not certain, I've quite a lot to attend to at my estate, and I had hoped to make this meeting rather hasty," Lord Beckham said hesitantly. He looked at Lord Havenshire, and felt a guilt in his throat.

"It won't take long at all," Lord Havenshire insisted brightly, before another coughing fit filled his throat. "Not long at all." Lord Beckham sighed.

"Yes, perhaps we should," he finally relented.

CHAPTER EIGHT

"She's a beauty, isn't she?" Lord Havenshire asked, his voice a hoarse whisper as he loudly cleared his throat. Lord Beckham couldn't stand the smell of stables; he wasn't himself much enamored with horses, for that matter, something that had he spoke it aloud would have met with much surprise and alarm. Few men here among the moors of north England didn't appreciate horses or the art of riding them, but the pursuit had never quite earned Lord Beckham's interest. The heady stench of hay and the low whinny of chattering equines inspired only a sidelong gaze from Marshall, who regarded the animal Lord Havenshire presented proudly with a faint but clearly disinterested smile.

"Yes, indeed, a fine breed," Lord Beckham returned absentmindedly. Its skin a deep shade of brown and its hair long and white, Lord Beckham got the feeling that these were perhaps special or rare features for a horse to have, or that they were quite prominent and agreeable on this particular horse, but he knew so little of horses that he couldn't point out the differences between a beautiful and a rather mundane example of the animal. He glanced longing towards the stable doors, sighing deeply and begging silently for James to pull the carriage away from the roadway and off to the stables to rescue him.

"When's the last time you went riding, Lord Beckham?" Lord Havenshire asked with a knowing grin, offering the animal to Marshall, who recoiled at the offer. He hadn't rode a horse in so long he couldn't even recall the last occasion, save that it likely ended with him nearly thrown from the animal's back, as he found himself to rarely have what it took to control the wily creatures. He quite rightly feared embarrassing himself should the old man actually ask to have a ride.

"Not many opportunities for a ride at my estate, I'm afraid," Lord Beckham answered, reeling from the smell and the sight of the stabled animal that approached him willfully. "It's... rather rocky terrain, near the manor," Lord Beckham resolved an excuse as quickly as he could for his lacking equestrian skills. Lord Havenshire frowned.

"Unfortunate, that. I've always found the freedom of riding the back of one of these beauties to be one of the most liberating experiences our mortal existence has to offer us, and these last few months without a ride across my property have left me begging to feel that again," Lord Havenshire lamented. "Alas, the illness has made me too weak to control one of the animals, I'm rather ashamed to admit. The Emerys estate has quite the perfect sort of landscape for a good ride. Horses aren't quite enamored with the trees, of course, but they weave through them far easier than they would rocks or soaring mountains, or that sort of thing."

"Indeed," Lord Beckham responded idly, still vexed as he glanced towards the stable doors. A dozen horses stood arrayed along the wooden walls, each sequestered into its own quaint den, stuffed with buckets of water, bales of straw and plates of assorted vegetables and other manner of detritus for the creatures to feast upon. Lord Beckham recalled his own manor's stables, sitting empty and idle upon his land since he'd sold the last of the creatures to a home which had actual want and use of them; he himself had no such needs.

"My daughter, Nadia... this is her horse, Shadow. They grew up together, practically," Lord Havenshire laughed, his voice both joyous, proud, but momentarily heartbroken at recalling his daughter's youth. "They taught one another how to ride, and how to run, more or less. She's always been an exceptional rider, so much so that had she not been born the only daughter of a duke, I'd have told her to pursue her riding skill relentlessly," he joked. "She may well do so, regardless. She's always been stubborn about listening to the ramblings of her old father."

"She... certainly seemed willful," Lord Beckham recalled hesitantly. "But... a charming sort of willful."

"A charming sort indeed," Lord Havenshire laughed. "It's my own fault, letting her range freely across the world like a wandering little chicken pecking at seeds on a plain. I fear it's made her unmarriageable, seeing the world outside of this place. I wake up each day fearing my servants will inform me she's disappeared on Shadow's back, into the night," he sighed.

"I certainly don't think a woman doesn't deserve marriage because she can think for herself," Lord Beckham responded, earning a curious look from Lord Havenshire.

"Had she been born a man, she'd be the finest duke Emerys has ever seen," he lamented.