Free The Duke's Accidental Wife (Dukes of War Book 7) by Erica Ridley Page B

family.”
    “I…” She shot a desperate glance at Aunt Havens, then nearly sagged in relief when a familiar brunette walked in the front door.
    “Cousin!” Lady Amelia handed her pelisse to a footman, then bussed cheeks with the Blaylock family. “I have just informed the groundskeeper that yes, you may do a spot of fowling after luncheon.”
    The younger Mrs. Blaylock’s mouth fell open. “How did you—”
    “Lady Amelia knows everything,” Mr. Blaylock interrupted with a laugh. “She probably sensed a weight difference upon our carriage axles and deduced the presence of a sporting gun on board for flushing partridge. How do you do, cousin? Isn’t married life grand?”
    “It is indeed,” Lady Amelia agreed. “You must be starving. If you’ll follow me to the dining room, lunch will be served shortly. And never you fear—neither fish nor strawberries shall be present at the table.”
    Kate’s face heated as her stomach twisted. Lady Amelia was no longer mistress of this house, yet she had ordered the staff. She had chosen the menu. She had known what should be served and not served, and at precisely what time.
    Meanwhile, Kate had spent the morning peering out a picture window like an insipid child awaiting Father Christmas. Just because she’d been looking forward to seeing her husband and meeting new people.
    Kate swallowed. The moment the Blaylocks left, she would dedicate herself to learning everything she could about running the estate.
    Her throat went dry. The prospect suddenly seemed overwhelming.
    She took her place across from her husband at the table. Or would have, were he present. He had not left the grounds—her morning vigil by the front window ensured she would have noticed a departure—and he, too, must be suffering hunger pangs by now.
    Which could only mean he was avoiding the party on purpose. She hesitated. Were his cousins too “common” for his taste?
    She frowned. Despite the Blaylocks’ country vulgarity, they were family. Ravenwood’s conspicuous absence dishonored himself as much as it did his cousins.
    Not that she should have expected otherwise. He rarely presented himself in society as anything less than a holier-than-thou sovereign, and was operating precisely as advertised. She bit her lip.
    Now that she was his duchess, would he expect her to follow his example and eschew contact with individuals of lesser status?
    Her stomach tightened. If he was too good for his own cousins, he no doubt despised her associations with musicians, artists, and those who aspired to be such. In avoiding the lower classes, he was missing out on getting to know the largest percentage of the country he loved so much.
    Well, Kate would not adhere to such an edict. Instead, she would do as Lady Amelia did, and treat the Blaylocks—and all people—with empathy, respect, and unflagging politeness.
    Aunt Havens, who had spent decades married to a parson, conversed freely with all parties at the table without batting a single eyelash. As a midwife for most of those years, Aunt Havens had seen everyone in Maidstone at their best and their worst, and treated them all the same.
    That was the example Kate had grown up with, and the one she intended to follow.
    It might not be a duchessy attitude, but it was the only course Kate could take and still live with herself.
    She threw herself into the conversation as if it were one of the many dinner parties she’d hosted at her townhouse over the years. She told amusing anecdotes, inquired into each Blaylock’s individual hobbies and aspirations, and listened with a genuine smile on her face to let them know how pleased she would be if they continued to stop by for visits.
    After they quit the dining room for a promenade out-of-doors, however, she quietly asked the butler whether her husband was indeed hard at work in his office.
    “No, your grace,” Simmons answered, his eyes thoughtful. “His grace has spent the past few hours in his