Chapter 317: Chapter Three Hundred And Seventeen
Night had finally come, blanketing the busy streets of London in a quiet darkness. The halls of Hamilton House were entirely silent.
Aunt Margery and her quiet companion, Celine, had already left the city. Their traveling carriage had rolled away hours ago, carrying the older woman toward the coast to be by her dying husband’s side.
Inside his private study, Rowan sat alone. The room was lit only by the warm, steady glow of a single oil lamp resting on the corner of his massive desk. He was surrounded by ledgers, estate reports, and long lists of tenant requests. He held a quill in his hand, his eyes scanning the numbers on the page, but his mind was struggling to focus.
A soft, polite knock came on the door of the study.
Rowan did not look up from the open ledger. "Enter," he spoke clearly, his deep voice breaking the silence of the room.
The brass handle turned smoothly. Mr. Simmons stepped quietly into the study. He closed the door behind him and walked forward, stopping a respectful distance from the large desk. He bowed deeply at the waist.
"Your Grace," Mr. Simmons said softly. He slowly raised his head, keeping his hands neatly folded behind his back. "You sent for me?"
Rowan nodded his head. He placed the quill down onto the polished wood of the desk. He closed the ledger and pushed it aside. He gave the butler his full, undivided attention.
"Yes, Simmons," Rowan began, his tone low and focused. "I have a very important task for you."
"I am completely at your service, Your Grace," Mr. Simmons replied smoothly.
"I want you to help me buy a cottage," Rowan instructed clearly. " I want a small, beautiful comfortable cottage in a peaceful environment. Perhaps near the southern lakes, or nestled quietly in a green valley."
Mr. Simmons raised his eyebrows just a fraction of an inch, but he quickly returned his face to a polite blankness.
"May I ask the purpose of this sudden purchase, Your Grace?" Mr. Simmons inquired politely, needing to know the details to find the exact right property.
"It is for my honeymoon," Rowan answered softly. A very small, genuine smile touched the corners of his mouth. "The past few months have been filled with terrible things, and stressful wedding planning. I want to take my wife far away from the noisy crowds of London. I want to give her a proper, quiet honeymoon where she can simply rest and be entirely happy."
Mr. Simmons understood perfectly. He nodded his head in deep respect for the Duke’s thoughtful plan.
"Consider it done, Your Grace," Mr. Simmons promised firmly. "I will contact our best property agents first thing tomorrow morning. We will find a cottage that is completely perfect for the new Duchess."
"Thank you," Rowan said. He leaned back in his large leather chair, rolling his stiff shoulders. "Where is my wife right now?"
"She is upstairs in the master bedroom, Your Grace," Mr. Simmons replied. "She just finished having her dinner by the fire."
Rowan nodded his head slowly. The mere thought of her sitting in his room, waiting for him, sent a sudden ache straight through his chest. He desperately wanted to leave the study and go to her immediately.
Mr. Simmons noticed the tired lines around the Duke’s eyes.
"Are you not going to have some dinner, Your Grace?" Mr. Simmons asked, his voice filled with concern. "The cook has kept a plate of roasted chicken and warm potatoes ready for you in the kitchen."
Rowan shook his head. He looked down at the tall stack of remaining papers on his desk.
"I am not hungry, Simmons," Rowan replied with a quiet sigh. "I just need to finish reading these last few estate reports. With everything back to normal, I must manage the estates myself."
Rowan picked up his quill again, forcing his mind back to his official duties.
"And Simmons," Rowan added quickly, looking back up at the butler. "When everything about the cottage is completely prepared and purchased, let me know privately. It must be a secret. I want to surprise her."
Mr. Simmons offered a deep knowing bow.
"I understand, Your Grace," Mr. Simmons said. "Your secret is perfectly safe with me."
The butler turned around smoothly and walked quietly out of the study, closing the door with a soft click. Rowan was left alone in the warm lamplight. He let out a long breath, picked up the next piece of paper, and continued with what he was doing, determined to finish his work so he could finally return to his wife.
Upstairs, the master bedroom was warm and peaceful. A large, bright fire crackled happily in the stone fireplace, casting dancing, golden shadows across the thick carpet and the velvet curtains.
Delaney was sitting comfortably in a large, soft armchair positioned right near the warm fireplace.
She was still dressed in her daytime clothes. She still wore her peach gown, and her shoes were still securely on her feet.
Resting carefully in her lap were the three crumpled pieces of paper that Ines had shoved into her hands that morning.
Delaney was currently studying the drawings.
She held the top paper open, leaning slightly toward the light of the fire to see the dark ink clearly. Her face was completely flushed. A deep, bright red color painted her cheeks all the way to the tips of her ears.
She stared at the explicit sketches. She looked at the complicated way the drawn figures were tangled completely together.
"Will these actually work?" Delaney whispered softly to herself in the quiet room.
She was entirely bewildered by some of the acrobatic positions. She tilted her head to the side, trying to understand exactly how a person’s leg could bend in such a strange angle without causing a terrible injury. She was completely innocent, but she was also deeply curious. She wanted to please her husband, and she wanted to share that intense, wonderful pleasure with him again.
Suddenly, a soft, polite voice brought her sharply back to reality.
"Your bath is ready, Your Grace."
Delaney jumped slightly in her chair. She quickly snapped the paper shut, hiding the scandalous drawings against her skirt.
She turned her head quickly. Sarah was standing quietly near the open door of the attached bathing room. White, fragrant steam was curling softly out of the doorway behind the maid, smelling sweetly of lavender soap and warm water.
Delaney let out a quick, nervous breath. She composed her face and nodded her head.
"Thank you, Sarah," Delaney replied smoothly, returning to her proper Duchess persona. "You may leave now for the night."
Sarah stepped forward and bowed politely.
"Should I help you undress first, Your Grace?" Sarah offered kindly. "The buttons on your dress are very small."
Delaney shook her head quickly. She did not want the young maid anywhere near the explicit drawings resting in her lap.
"No, thank you," Delaney said firmly but kindly. "I will manage on my own tonight. Please, go and rest."
"Very well, Your Grace. Goodnight," Sarah bowed again. The maid turned around and walked out of the master bedroom, closing the hallway door firmly behind her.
Delaney was alone again.
She let out a long sigh. She set the folded papers down onto a small table beside her chair.
She stood up slowly. She walked over to the tall glass window. The velvet curtains were pulled back slightly. She looked outside into the dark London night. The streets were quiet, lit only by the faint glow of the distant streetlamps.
"Rowan must be very busy," Delaney whispered softly to the cold glass.
She knew he was managing the Hamilton estates. She knew he had hundreds of tenants depending on him for their homes and their livelihoods. She admired his deep dedication to his duties, but the large bed behind her felt incredibly empty without him.
