Lady Ines Scandalous Hobby-Chapter 172 - Hundred And Seventy Two

The sun was high in the sky, pushing its way through the heavy velvet curtains of the master suite. A single beam of light hit the pillow, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.

Carcel stirred. He reached out his arm instinctively. His hand moved across the cool, smooth sheets, searching for warmth. He searched for the curve of a waist, the softness of hair, or the heat of skin.

His hand found nothing but linen.

Carcel frowned in his sleep. He patted the mattress again, sweeping his arm wider.

Still nothing.

His eyes flew open. He blinked against the dim light, his mind foggy with the remnants of deep sleep. He turned his head sharply to the left.

The pillow beside him was indented, showing where a head had rested, but it was empty.

Carcel sat up immediately. The sheet fell to his waist, exposing his bare chest to the cool air. He looked around the vast bed.

"Ines?" he called out, his voice rough with sleep.

Silence answered him.

He truly saw that the bed was empty. The bathroom door was open and dark. The dressing room door was ajar, but no sounds of rustling silk came from within.

"Where did she go?" Carcel muttered to himself.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, pushing it back from his forehead. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment, trying to wake up fully.

He looked around the room.

It was a disaster area.

He turned to see their clothes from yesterday scattered all over the place. His shirt was hanging off the lampshade. One of his boots was near the fireplace, the other near the door. Ines’s green traveling dress was in a heap on the rug, and her white chemise was draped over the footboard of the bed.

A slow smile spread across his face as the memories came rushing back.

He remembered the sunflower oil. He remembered the chase. He remembered making love from the first round to the last. They had been so consumed by each other that they hadn’t left the room for hours.

He chuckled softly, looking at a silver tray on the nightstand. It held two empty plates and an empty wine pitcher.

He remembered Aunt Rowena knocking politely at seven in the evening. She hadn’t asked to come in. She had simply shouted through the wood, "I am leaving dinner outside the door! Eat something, or you will faint!"

They had dragged the tray in, eaten in bed while naked, and then gone right back to "exhausting" each other.

Carcel stretched his arms over his head, his muscles flexing.

As he moved, he felt a sharp, painful sting on his back.

"Ouch," he hissed.

He reached around, his fingers grazing his shoulder blade. He felt raised welts.

Scratches. Long, thin lines where fingernails had dug into his skin.

He lowered his hand and looked at the room again.

"What did that lioness do to me?" He chuckled, shaking his head.

He had thought he married a gentle writer. It turned out he had married a woman with a hidden fire. The thought made his blood run hot again. He decided he liked the scars. They were badges of honor.

He stood up and wrapped a silk robe around his waist. He walked to the corner of the room and pulled the velvet cord to ring the bell.

Ding. Ding.

He walked to the window and poured himself a glass of water from a pitcher. He drank it in one long gulp. He was thirsty.

A moment later, there was a knock at the door.

"Enter," Carcel commanded.

Lloyd came as quickly as he could. He stepped into the room, impeccably dressed, holding a leather book and a pen. He didn’t look at the messy bed or the scattered clothes. He stared straight ahead at the Duke.

"Your Grace," Lloyd bowed deeply. "Good afternoon."

Carcel placed the glass down.

"Where’s my wife?" He asked.

He paused. He tasted the word. Wife.

Then he smiled, loving the way it sounded pleasing to his ears. It wasn’t "Lady Hamilton" anymore. It wasn’t "Ines." It was my wife. It sounded possessive. It sounded permanent.

Lloyd checked his mental notes.

"Her Grace is in the gardens," Lloyd replied efficiently. "Lady Rowena took the Duchess for a tour of the mansion and the grounds about an hour ago. I believe they are currently inspecting the rose bushes."

Carcel nodded, relieved. She hadn’t run away. She was just doing Duchess things. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

"I see," Carcel replied. "She must have let me sleep."

"She gave strict orders not to disturb you, sir," Lloyd added. "She said you needed your... beauty rest."

Carcel raised an eyebrow. "Beauty rest? Is that what she called it?"

"Those were her exact words, Your Grace,"

Lloyd said, keeping a perfectly straight face, though his eyes twinkled slightly.

Carcel laughed. "Cheeky woman. Well then, I am awake now."

He walked over to the armchair and sat down, tightening the belt of his robe.

"What are my agendas for the day?" Carcel asked. "I assume the world did not stop turning while I was in bed."

Lloyd opened his book. He flipped a few pages.

"Unfortunately not, Your Grace," Lloyd said.

Lloyd started listing things that required Carcel’s signature.

"First, the roof of the west barn has collapsed," Lloyd read. "The tenant farmer, Mr. Miller, needs approval for the repairs and the lumber costs."

Carcel nodded. "Approve it. Use the oak from the north woods."

"Second," Lloyd continued, "the magistrate in the village needs your signature on the new road plans. He has been waiting for two weeks."

"I will sign it today," Carcel said, rubbing his temple.

"Third," Lloyd went on, his finger tracing down the list, "there is a dispute between two merchants in the town square regarding a stolen cart. They want the Duke to mediate."

"Can the local judge not handle a cart?" Carcel asked, exasperated.

"They insist on the Duke’s wisdom," Lloyd said.

"Fourth, the annual harvest festival is next month. The committee needs your approval for the budget."

Lloyd kept going. He listed things in the estate that required his attention—drainage ditches, hiring new stable hands, buying new feed for the horses. Then he listed things in Carleton, his duchy, that needed to be seen to—tax collections, bridge repairs, and a dozen other mundane tasks.

Carcel groaned. He leaned his head back against the chair.

"It never ends," he muttered.

He looked at the sunny window. He wanted to be in the rose garden. He wanted to be walking next to Ines, holding her hand, listening to Aunt Rowena talk about flowers. He didn’t want to talk about lumber and stolen carts.

"Looks like I have a lot of work to do," Carcel said with a heavy sigh.

"Being a Duke is a full-time job, sir," Lloyd reminded him gently.

Carcel sat up straight. His face changed. The sleepy lover disappeared, and the sharp, calculating leader returned.

"Have you arranged what I asked you to?" Carcel asked, his voice dropping lower.

Lloyd looked up from his book. He nodded once.

"Yes, Your Grace," Lloyd answered. "It’s done. I also sent the riders out this morning at dawn. I have sent notice to inform them of your arrival."

"Good," Carcel said. His eyes narrowed slightly. "I hope the message was clear?"

"The message was very clear, sir," Lloyd assured him. "All is been taken care of."

Carcel nodded. He tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair.

"And the other matter?" Carcel asked. "Have you sent the letter to Rowan?"

He remembered his promise to Ines’s brother. He had promised to write as soon as they arrived.

Lloyd replied, "Yes, Your Grace. I wrote it myself and signed it on your behalf, stating that you arrived safely. It went out with the morning post."

"Thank you," Carcel said sincerely. "You are efficient as always, Lloyd."

Carcel stood up. He looked at the mess on the floor one last time.

"I cannot face the magistrate looking like this," Carcel said. "And I certainly cannot meet my wife in the garden smelling of sleep."

He gestured to Lloyd.

"Get a maid to prepare a bath for me," Carcel ordered. "Make it hot. And get my valet to help me get dressed. I need my riding clothes."

"At once, Your Grace," Lloyd said.

Lloyd bowed and left the room, closing the door softly.

Carcel walked to the balcony doors. He pushed them open and stepped out into the fresh air. He looked down at the sprawling gardens below.

Far in the distance, near the white gazebo, he saw two figures. One was wearing lavender, and the other was wearing cream.

Ines.

She was laughing. He couldn’t hear it, but he could see the way her body moved. She looked happy. She looked at home.

Carcel smiled, the scratch on his back stinging as he crossed his arms.

"My wife is so beautiful." he whispered to the wind.