Dukes, Actually by Erica Ridley

Author:Erica Ridley
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

C arole hopped across her bedchamber rug as she tied her final boot. Every person in her household had needed her help this morning, and now she was running late to Azureford’s.

True to his word, the indomitable man had summoned draftsmen and journeymen out of the ether. Over the past week, a flurry of artists and experts had paraded in and out of his cottage, and Carole had been right by Azureford’s side through all of it. They’d spent long hours deliberating over designs and materials and proposals.

Today was the day the actual renovation was set to begin. Carole didn’t want to miss a single moment.

She skidded out her bedchamber into the corridor and nearly crashed into a maid carrying her father’s breakfast tray.

“Shall I take this to Mr. Quincy, miss?” Rhoda asked.

Every other morning, Carole’s answer to this question had always been, No, I’ll do it. Even though her father barely glanced up from his desk, at least he would know his daughter never stopped caring about him. The who-takes-the-tray dance was part of the ritual.

“Please do.” She curled her fingers about her reticule. “I must hurry.”

“You said… yes?” the maid stammered in obvious surprise. “That is, of course, miss. I’m happy to.”

Carole was always happy to, too. This uncharacteristic deviation was temporary. Soon enough, Azureford’s holiday would end and the Quincy household would resume its predictable patterns.

“Thank you, Rhoda.” Carole swept out the door before the maid’s shocked eyes could ask any more questions.

When all of this was over, she’d dedicate even more time to Father to make up for her absence. If it weren’t for Carole, he’d never come out of his study. Perhaps if she did more for him, he’d have free time… and spend some of it with her.

Before any early morning passersby could stop her, she sprinted from her front door to Azureford’s. It was wide open. Men in frequently patched work clothes streamed inside, or wandered around to the rear to squint at the pair of decorative windows Carole intended to replace with large, sunny panes to let in more light.

Inside, the chaos was perfection. The level of noise and the impossibility of walking in a straight line without bumping into someone made her feel like she was in the middle of Marlowe Castle’s ballroom at the height of the Christmas season.

“I need a measuring tape,” called out one of the men.

She yanked hers from her reticule and slapped the coiled white ribbon into his outstretched hand.

He grunted in response and climbed back up his ladder without a single word of thanks.

Carole’s spirits soared. She had never felt so much a part of something in her life. He hadn’t said, Wot, a woman?! or tried to explain in gentle terms that the very competent men were doing very important things right now, and maybe the little lady would like to retire to a pretty drawing room and mind her embroidery while they did the real work.

“Got a hammer and nails in there, too?” came a low, amused voice.

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