A proposition by a pretty woman—even one who was as trying as the Duchess of Skeffington—was something to consider. Simon turned back towards her and wondered what she could possibly want from him. ‘Go on.’
She cleared her throat. ‘I was wondering...that is to say...would you consider...?’
‘I am not one to couch my comments to please the world, Duchess. I do not get the impression you do either. What is it you want?’
‘I want Stonehaven.’ She said it clearly, although she was twisting the handle of her reticule as she made the statement. ‘That is to say, I would like to know if you would be willing to exchange Clivemoore for it?’
He hadn’t had the time to review each of his houses. How could he possibly give up one before he knew anything about it? And if the Duchess of Skeffington wanted that one so badly, it had to be worth something.
‘Why do you want the house?’
‘Sentimental reasons.’
‘You and your husband spent lovely weeks there and it holds good memories?’
‘No. I simply prefer that property above the others. If you are leaving England as you say you are, then it should not matter to you which house I get.’
There had to be more to it than that. He had met fortune hunters like her before in his life. Hell, he had been tossed aside by a few. If he had to wager, he would put money on the notion that Stonehaven provided more of an income than Clivemoore.
‘Ah, but your husband had a reason not to put you there. I am simply adhering to his wishes.’
‘And what about my wishes? I’m still alive. He is dead.’
Without meaning to, he let out a low laugh. Her very direct nature was comical.
‘Yes, well, it’s quite obvious you are still alive and the reason I am here is because your husband is dead... How did he die, by the way? I never thought to enquire before now.’
‘A chicken bone...he choked on a chicken bone one night at dinner.’
‘You’re sure it wasn’t poison?’
‘Poison? Of course I’m sure it wasn’t poison.’ A look of comprehension crossed her face before she put her hands on her hips. ‘Are you insinuating I poisoned my husband?’
‘You do seem very interested in that house. And as you stated, you’re alive and he’s dead.’ Simon tried to say it with a straight face, but he wasn’t successful.
‘You are an odious man, Mr Alexander.’
‘That may be true, but I am an odious man in possession of...what was the name of the estate again? Oh, yes, Rockhaven.’
‘Stonehaven,’ she corrected him through her teeth.
‘I don’t see a difference,’ he replied simply to annoy her. ‘Stones and rocks are the same thing. Perhaps I’ll change the name.’
The Duchess began to tug her purple-silk glove up. Her emerald and gold bracelet caught his eye as the sunlight glinted off it from the fanlight over the door.
‘I see you have no intention of taking my request seriously. I do believe we have nothing more to say to one another. I bid you a good day and wish you horrible weather on your journey back to whatever country has the misfortune of hosting you in the future.’
She raised her chin and sailed past him towards the front door and, thankfully, out of his life for ever.
Dorset—five months later
Since she was seventeen, Stonehaven had been a refuge for Lizzy from her horrible marriage. It was the one place she knew she could periodically escape to where she would be free of her husband’s temper and critical remarks. And for the last twelve years she had spent Christmas there with just her sisters and her Aunt Clara. It had been their tradition—the one time of year she was surrounded by the only people who loved her.
Now both of her sisters were married and spending Christmas at the country estate of the Duke of Winterbourne. She had lasted three days on that estate. Long enough to see her sister Juliet married and to endure watching the loving looks her sister Charlotte was receiving from her new husband, Lord Andrew Pearce, the younger brother of the Duke of Winterbourne. That visit was a painful reminder that she would not be sharing the same type of future as her sisters. She was not one of those women who were destined to find love. The reality of her situation stung and she knew she needed the comfort and familiarity of Stonehaven. And she was not going to let something as tedious as her late husband’s will stop her from being there.
As her shiny black-lacquered carriage with the Skeffington crest rolled along the snow-covered road past pale stone houses with smoking chimneys, Lizzy peered out the window and realised how much she had missed the local landscape.
Across from her, signs of apprehension creased Aunt Clara’s brow once more. ‘Perhaps you should have sent a note to Mrs Moggs and notified her that we would be arriving. I can’t imagine that she has ordered the kind of food we are accustomed to having during the holiday for just herself and the staff.’
Lizzy let the black curtain fall from her hand and she met her aunt’s troubled gaze. The staff would be aware that the house was now in the possession of her late husband’s heir and that he had not given her licence to use it. There was no telling what kind of reaction she would receive if they knew she was arriving in advance. Hopefully, the element of surprise would be to her advantage.
‘I’m sure we will have to make certain adjustments and our rooms will not be freshly aired and ready when we arrive, but I assure you I can have Mrs Moggs send someone into town and pick up anything we need to enjoy our usual Twelfth Night celebrations.’ It wouldn’t feel the same without her sisters, but she was grateful her aunt had said she didn’t want Lizzy to spend the holiday alone at Stonehaven and asked to accompany her.
‘And you are certain he will not be there?’
‘For the third time, the last I heard, Mr Alexander is still abroad. All will be well, I assure you. He will never even know we took up residence for a fortnight.’
‘You are going to be placing those servants in an awkward position. We still could finish the holiday in my home in Bath. It is not too far away.’
‘We have spent Christmas at Stonehaven for years. Fear not, I will take all the blame should the new Duke find out we were in residence. He can chastise me all he wants when he sends me a letter.’ Lizzy pushed the curtain aside once more and tried to determine where they were. ‘We have just passed the church in the village. It won’t be long now.’
The large Georgian house came into view after they rounded a rather narrow bend in the road. The late afternoon sun was making the pale rectangular stones appear more orange than beige. As Lizzy looked down to tie the string of her reticule, she missed noting there was smoke curling out of a number of chimneys, visible against the clear blue sky—more chimneys than were necessary for the number of servants residing in the house.
The carriage rocked to a stop and the step was lowered. In the past, a footman had always been stationed in the entrance hall awaiting their arrival. This year, when so much of her life had changed, with the death of her husband and the marriages of both her sisters, the closed black door was making her feel like a stranger in the one place she had felt the most at home. She raised her chin and marched to the front door with her boots crunching in the snow, determined to push her feelings of sadness and unease out of her mind.
The door opened just as she grabbed the ring of the doorknocker and she almost fell forward with the movement of the large wooden door. She might have landed on the polished