a fall from a cliff.
* * *
‘I am exceedingly angry at the duke for bringing you here,’ the duchess said to Bellona.
The duchess wore a fichu tucked into her bodice and the sleeves of her obsidian gown almost swallowed her hands.
The older woman had a maid at her side, holding a stack of four books. ‘You must know that I cannot take my anger out on him, so it will land about your ears.’ She pulled out one book and waved the servant away.
‘I am not happy with him either.’ Bellona sat in the matching chair. ‘I will probably share that with both of you.’
The duchess frowned. ‘Why are you not pleased with him?’
‘He took my bow and a small dagger.’
‘Your mother should have taught you better.’
‘Why? I did not need to be better on Melos and I am fine enough to sit in a duke’s home.’
She duchess snorted, just as Bellona’s own mother might have. She held out the book. ‘You may read to me.’
‘I would rather talk.’
‘I would rather hear what someone else wrote.’ The woman thumped the book and held it out again.
‘I am not going to read to you.’
‘You have no choice. I have asked you to. I am your elder.’
This was not going to get any better. Perhaps his mother would summon the duke to complain about Bellona. That would tip his tea kettle over.
Bellona saw no reason to explain her struggle to read the English language to the duchess.
‘It would indeed be an honour for you to read to me,’ the duchess said, changing her methods, ‘and might dispose me more kindly towards you.’
‘I do not mind if you are not nice to me.’
‘Well, I do. My prayer book is the only thing that gives me hope. My eyes hurt from reading it and the letters blur. The maid cannot read and I do not wish to replace her, though I might be forced to because I need someone who can see better than I.’
‘You may replace me,’ Bellona said. ‘I do not read English words.’
‘But your sister is a countess. And everyone knows she is from the best society in your home country.’ The duchess looked at the book. ‘So do not feed me such nonsense that you cannot read. Your family would not educate one sister and leave another unschooled. I have received notes from your sister several times. One she wrote when she visited me and I could not see her, so she must write them herself.’
‘I am not my sister.’
The duchess shook her head. ‘You do not read?’
‘I know the English letters. Melina read our father’s letters to Thessa and me many times and I could understand most of the written words. It has been a long time since I have looked at words, though. I do not like them on paper. I prefer a person’s lies when I can see their face.’
‘I do beg your pardon.’ Words spoken from training. ‘I cannot begin to imagine what my son was thinking to enlist a companion who could not read to me.’
‘I do not dance or do any of the other things society women do, except archery. It is my favourite thing next to my niece and nephews. I sew, but only because one must have clothes. I do not like the nice stitches to make flowers. I like the strong sewing. I am from my mana’s world.’
‘I am from my mother’s world as well,’ the duchess said. ‘Every day we had our hair dressed to perfection, our skin just so. We could not move if it might disturb our clothing. I sometimes hated it, but now I see the value of it. One must give others something to aspire to.’ She leaned towards Bellona. ‘Take a note of that. Because you are a companion only and from some foreign land, I will tolerate some folly on your part.’
‘I am thankful I will not have to tolerate any on your part.’
‘Child, I say again that I do not know what the duke was thinking to ask you to stay with me.’
‘He was thinking I would be a slap for you.’
The duchess showed no outward reaction. ‘Rolleston is making a good duke. He has always been a good son. Although he might have erred this one time.’
‘He might have.’
‘Do not be so quick to agree with me. Surely you have some accomplishments? What entertainments are you versed in? Recitations? Music? Song?’
Bellona smiled, tilted her head to the side and said, ‘Would you like to hear a song the English sailors taught me? I am not sure of its meaning.’
The duchess’s neck moved like a snake rising to eye prey, trying to get situated for the closest tender spot. ‘Oh, my dear, I think you know full well whatever that song meant and I am not daft enough to fall for that one.’
‘I already told you that I have no accomplishments,’ Bellona insisted flatly.
‘How do you spend your days?’
‘Archery. The forest. I spend hours with my niece—I miss the little one. Her joy makes me laugh.’
The duchess opened the book. ‘I know what it is like to miss someone.’
‘You spend too much time with books,’ Bellona said. ‘If they make your eyes hurt it is not good for you. Poison in the stomach makes it hurt. The head is the same. Your eyes are telling you that you must not read.’
‘Oh. Thank you for informing me.’ The duchess digested the words.
Rhys walked into the room, greeting them both, a book under his arm. His eyes had a faraway look, but he settled into a chair and asked them to continue as they’d been because he needed to study the accounts.
But even though he stared at the volume in his hands, Bellona felt his thoughts were on her much the same as a governess might have her back to the children, but be aware of their every move. She felt the need to test her idea and knew she would before the conversation was over.
The duchess leaned towards Bellona. ‘How did you learn to speak English?’
‘My father was English.’ Her father was alive, but he was dead as far as she was concerned. ‘He insisted we only speak English when he was home. He made us recite to him. Yet he knew Greek well and if we spoke Greek in anger, we were punished. He is... It is hard to talk of him.’ She sniffed and lowered her face. That would discourage any questions of him.
‘At least you speak two languages.’
‘Some French, too.’
The older woman nodded. She appraised Bellona. ‘Did you leave behind family in Greece?’
‘None close,’ Bellona said. ‘I have never wed. Marriage. It makes a woman change. And cry. Men are only good for lifting and carrying, much like the bigger animals that do not think well.’
The duke didn’t respond to her deliberate prod.
‘Well, yes, some of them can be,’ the duchess admitted. ‘But marriage is not all bad. Children make you change and cry, too. I do not know what I would have done without my own.’ A wisp of a smile landed on the duchess’s face. ‘My three children were the best things that ever happened to me.’ Then her expression changed with the memory and she began to sniff.
Bellona searched her mind for a distraction. ‘At least I will not have to marry—like His Grace will have to before he gets much older.’
His mother’s sniffle turned into a splutter. Bellona didn’t have to turn her head to know where the duke was looking. She pretended to look like her own thoughts were far away.
‘Yes. He will marry. Of course,’