The Last Duke (Thornton 1)

“Your fear will subside. My love won’t.” A tremulous smile hovered about her lips. “Snow flames bloom forever.”

16

PIERCE LEANED AGAINST THE door frame of the dining room entranceway, smiling tenderly as his beautiful wife, a whirlwind in lilac, dashed about, first to the sideboard to make certain the brandy decanter was full, next to the table to realign the silverware, then on to the draperies to readjust the amount of moonlight infusing the room. Intermittently, she would snatch a tray from a passing servant, chiding him for carrying too heavy a load, and call out to Mrs. Gates that she was working herself and her staff far too hard.

So this was what it meant to have a home.

Overwhelmed by contentment, Pierce reveled in a new sense of belonging, one he’d been denied for thirty years. Now, after only six weeks of marriage to Daphne, he could actually feel the empty spaces of his heart begin to fill, pervaded by the rare, unspoiled wonder that was his wife.

He was one hell of a lucky gambler.

Slowly, he strolled into the room, coming up behind Daphne and, indifferent to their lack of privacy, wrapping his arms about her waist. “Unfurrow that beautiful brow. Everything looks perfect.”

Daphne started. “Pierce. I didn’t hear you come in.”

He kissed her hair. “Obviously not. You were too busy organizing this grand banquet.”

She disengaged herself with a murmur of protest. “Don’t be irreverent. This is our first official dinner party.”

His grin was indulgent. “Sweetheart, it’s only the vicar, not a swarm of strangers.”

“I know.” Unappeased, Daphne looked worriedly about the room. “Nevertheless, he is our first guest since I became your wife. I want everything to be flawless.”

Pierce felt strangely touched by the sentimentality behind his wife’s apprehension. “It will be, Snow flame. With you at the table, how could it be anything less?”

He was rewarded with a brilliant smile.

“Your Grace?” Mrs. Gates appeared at Daphne’s elbow. “Forgive me for interrupting, but, as your dinner guest is due any moment, may I please be allowed to resume my duties? I’ve idled about as you insisted for a quarter hour. I assure you, I am quite renewed. And I’d like to make certain Cook has things well in hand.”

“Of course.” Daphne nodded cheerfully, wondering why her housekeeper seemed so flustered by a simple suggestion that she rest. “But call me if you or Cook need any help in the kitchen.”

Mrs. Gates’s mouth opened and closed several times. “Yes, Your Grace.” Still gaping, she returned to her domain.

Laughter rumbled from Pierce’s chest.

“Why are you laughing?” Daphne questioned. “And why is Mrs. Gates behaving so oddly?”

“I imagine she’s wondering much the same about you,” Pierce replied, desperately trying to straighten his face.

“I? What did I do that was odd? I merely offered my assistance—an offer she evidently found less than appealing. Am I really that dreadful a housekeeper?”

“I don’t believe your skills are the issue, sweet. Tell me, who runs the house, or for that matter, the kitchen at Tragmore?”

“Mrs. Frame runs both.” Daphne smiled fondly as she explained. “She’s been at Tragmore since I was a child, and she’s quite indispensable. Why, the entire female staff reports to her for their duties. And with good reason. Oh Pierce, she’s so wonderful. Not only is she an incomparable cook and housekeeper, she’s also a fine, compassionate woman. Why, without her help—” Abruptly, Daphne halted.

As always, Pierce’s gaze probed deep inside his wife, touching a place only he could reach. “Without her, you couldn’t have brought food to the village children,” he finished, noting the flicker of surprise that crossed his wife’s face. “I watched you at the schoolhouse that day. I saw you share yourself with the children. It wasn’t difficult to put the pieces together and guess what you’ve been doing. Besides, I know you, Snow flame. Not only your beautiful body, but your even more beautiful soul. I thought by now you understood that.” Tenderly, he cupped Daphne’s face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. “Mrs. Frame sounds like a remarkable person. Almost as remarkable as the enchanting young woman she aided.” His fingers paused. “Never be afraid to tell me anything, least of all about your gifts to others. The days of being punished for your kindness are over. I’m so bloody proud of you. Your selflessness, especially with those children, means more to me than I can explain.”

“You needn’t explain,” Daphne whispered, reaching up to kiss her husband’s chin. “Because, you see, just as you know me, I know you, as well.”

“So you do.”

An instant of silence hung between them.

“Why did you ask about Mrs. Frame?” Daphne inquired, studying her husband’s veiled expression as if trying to assess its cause. “And what has she to do with Mrs. Gates’s strange behavior?”

Pierce’s brooding look vanished; his grin returned. “I suspect the late Duke and Duchess of Markham conducted themselves in a most conventional manner. Therefore, Mrs. Gates is as unaccustomed as the rest of the servants to our, shall we say informal, overseeing of the staff.”

“Oh.” Daphne ingested that possibility. “You’re saying my offer to help out in the kitchen was improper?”