The Marquess In Her Bed (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 4

  “I’m sorry, Papa, I didn’t hear what you said.”

  “I said that this will be a very big order, and we shall have to work from dawn until dusk every day to complete it in time, but we shall manage!”

  “Oh, yes. Yes, of course, we will, Papa” she responded, feeling a surge of affection for her father. She knew that fulfilling this order would mean a change in the family’s financial status, and with luck, it would lead to future work for other aristocratic families. Cecilia smiled at the thought of designing beautifully-carved settees in addition to her usual work of making wagon wheels and simple chairs and tables.

  This reminded her of the problem of the proportions of the bookcase, and she began to explain the dilemma to her father. She would need to show him the sketch she had made to truly illustrate her point, so she might have waited until they returned home, but she wanted to keep her mind from wandering. As always, her father listened to her explanation patiently before adding any thoughts of his own.

  “Well,” he said, in a matter-of-fact tone, “the purpose of a bookcase is to hold books. It’s no use making smaller shelves that won’t fit any books, so we’ll only adjust the width. The slight reduction in depth should still accommodate most volumes.”

  “Yes, the depth shouldn’t be a problem, but I am still concerned about the height between the shelves, Papa. Functionality is important, and I agree that it makes no sense to build a bookcase that cannot store books, but you saw the library, it is a beautiful room. Each piece must be in harmony with the others. The Duchess is quite particular from what I can tell, and she won’t be pleased to have a bookcase that does not fit with the rest of the room.”

  Cecilia’s father seemed to consider this, as they continued their ride home in silence. Cecilia thought about the pieces the Duchess had ordered. There would be a dining table and chairs for twelve, with matching sideboard and hutch. In the drawing room, a settee, two small tables, and two chairs were needed. For the Duke’s study, a large desk and three chairs had been ordered. For the Duchess’ own bedchamber, she had ordered a small writing desk and chair, as well as a new wardrobe. She had given specific instructions on all of these pieces, and although there were many of them, and they would take several weeks to complete, most would be straightforward. Only the bookcase in the library gave her pause.

  I am sure there must be a simple solution to this problem, but it is escaping me, no matter how hard I search for it. I must not allow thoughts of Lord Clive to distract me from my work.

  When the Baxters returned home, it was midafternoon. There were about three hours of daylight left, and they set to work preparing sketches and plans, and gathering materials so that they could begin in earnest the next day. Archie had completed the finishing touches on several pieces that had been in progress up to this point. Cecilia’s table, and the six matching chairs stood in the corner, the final layer of varnish nearly dry. The brewer and his wife would come to fetch it tomorrow, Archie assured them.

  Cecilia took out her notebook and opened it to the sketch of the bookcase she had made earlier that day. She showed the drawing to Archie and her father and explained her concerns about building the new one. Now that he could see the sketch, her father seemed to understand her concerns better than when she had tried to explain them to him on their ride home. No solution was immediately obvious to him or Archie, but they agreed with Cecilia that they would find a way to make the piece both functional and aesthetically pleasing. All three agreed that they would think more about this overnight and discuss possibilities the following day.

  For the time being, they divided up the remaining pieces, and each person began to sketch designs. Cecilia started with the small writing desk and chair that would be placed in the Duchess’ bedroom. She began by sketching something similar to her own writing desk, which she felt was the perfect example of that piece. However, as she sketched, she tried to imagine the Duchess sitting at the desk, writing letters to other members of the aristocracy.

  This is not a writing desk for a carpenter’s daughter, it is for a Duchess. A Duchess would surely cringe to see such a plain piece of furniture in her chamber. Perhaps if I add some scrollwork to the drawer fronts...

  Cecilia paused and looked at the drawing she had been making. It did not look like a desk for a Duchess, but rather like one for a common girl pretending to be more elegant than she was. She resolved to start again. This time, Cecilia pictured the Duchess herself: beautiful but cool, she had been dressed elegantly, but not ostentatiously on the two occasions that they had met. Each element of her dress and appearance had been carefully selected to ensure that she looked effortlessly beautiful. Using this aesthetic framework, Cecilia set to work sketching once more.

  The Duchess had requested a mahogany writing desk, five feet in width, and three feet in depth. Cecilia envisioned the dark wood, polished to a bright shine, and began the sketch again. This time, she disregarded her own desk and pictured the elegant furniture she had seen at the Duchess’ Manor. She considered what would make the desk functional as well as beautiful.

  In the end, Cecilia sketched a rectangular table top, with rounded corners and a gently-curved edge. To either side of the chair, she added a small drawer for storing quills, ink bottle, paper, and sealing wax. The fronts of the drawers she adorned with a simple carved pattern of vines forming a border around each edge. At the center, would be iron knobs in the shapes of roses in bloom. The chair would be elegant in its simplicity, with the pattern of carved vines on its back panel to match the desk.

  I wonder what Lord Clive would think of this piece. To be sure, I doubt that he much cares what his mother’s writing desk looks like, but he did seem genuinely interested in my work today. Would he approve of this piece?

  A warm feeling entered her chest as she thought this, and it spread to her face, making her blush. It was true that the young Lord was handsome, and seemed a charming, clever, fellow, but it was quite unlike Cecilia to be distracted by such things. She had met handsome men in her life, and she had discussed the intricacies of her work with her father and Archie, but this was something else entirely. And it simply would not do to become infatuated with a Lord who stood first in line to inherit a dukedom. She was the daughter of a carpenter. A successful carpenter, to be sure, but a carpenter nonetheless.

  Cecilia suspected that Lord Clive did not wish to be hampered by social expectations, but in the end she felt sure that the Duchess would make the final decision as to his marriage, and she would be sure to choose a nobly-born young lady with impeccable social graces.

  Cecilia’s attention continued to wander to the subject of Lord Clive as she composed a list of the materials she would need to begin work on the writing desk the next day, and this state of affairs did not improve when she sat down to supper with her father and Archie.

  “Cecilia?” Archie asked, looking somewhat concerned. He was offering her a piece of bread, and she had not even noticed.

  “What?” she said, confused. Then, realizing that she must have been ignoring him for some time she continued, “Sorry, Archie, I’m quite tired, and my mind drifted off for a moment there.”

  She took the bread that Archie offered and ate the rest of her meal quietly. When everyone had finished eating, she announced that she would go to bed at once, and quickly went to her bed chamber, where she sat down at her own, unrefined but much-loved writing desk. She took out her paper, quill, and ink, and once again wrote a letter to her mother.

  Dear Mama,

  The strangest thing has happened today. Papa and I went to The Duke of Huxley’s Manor to finalize a large order from the Duchess, and while I was taking measurements in the library, I met the Duchess’ son, Nicholas Lymington, The Marquess of Clive. He was unlike any man I have ever met, and not only because he is by far the most handsome. He asked about my work and seemed genuinely interested in hearing what I had to say about the art of woodworking.

  He did express some surprise that a young woman sh
ould have such an occupation, but rather than finding it strange or off putting, he seemed fascinated at the prospect. We even discussed the book he was reading, on the French Revolution, and that I am also currently reading a volume on the same subject.

  Mama, I only met him for a few moments, but all the rest of the day I could not stop thinking about him, and every time I did, my heart beat faster, and my face flushed with warmth. Is this what it feels like to fall in love? Or is it simply infatuation? I sincerely hope it is the latter, as I know that no possibility exists of marriage between myself and a man who will one day be a duke. But if it is merely a passing infatuation, then true love must be an even more overwhelming experience, and how could anyone ever survive such a thing?

  I don’t know if I shall see Lord Clive again, and in truth, I don’t know if I should hope to see him again, or hope to avoid him. At our meeting today we stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, and I felt that I might drown in them. It was a wonderful feeling, but a frightening one as well. I wish that you were here to help me understand what is happening to me.

  Your Loving Daughter,

  Cece

  Chapter 6

  A few days after his encounter with the intriguing Miss Baxter, Nicholas returned to the library. It was a dreary, autumn day, and there would be no pleasure to be had out of doors, so Nicholas decided to study the problem of the bookshelf that had stymied the carpenter’s lovely daughter.

  He soon discovered that his family’s library contained only a few volumes on geometry, and none more advanced than those he had studied at school. I shall have to see what volumes I can find at the bookshop in town when the weather is better. Still, he supposed he should review the books that were available to him, as he had not thought much about the subject since leaving school.

  Nicholas chose a large, leather-bound volume, and carried it to his favorite armchair by the window. The sunlight was weak in the gray, cloudy sky, so he lit the lamp on the small table next to him before opening the book. The spine was stiff, and he could tell that no one had opened this volume for many years. Perhaps it had never been opened. As far as he knew, no one in his household had a particular interest in the subject.

  As he read the text, and studied diagrams, he found that the Pythagorean Theorem was far more interesting than he remembered. Though perhaps it is just the thought of discussing it with Miss Baxter that holds my attention.

  About an hour had passed when Nicholas looked up from his book to see his sister entering the library.

  “Hello, Nick,” she said, “what are you reading?”

  “Good afternoon!” he replied. “I’m reading up on the elementary principles of geometry.”

  Isobel’s eyes opened wide, and she stared at her brother for a moment before speaking. “Really? I never realized you had a particular interest in mathematics.”

  “No,” Nicholas replied, “I don’t suppose I ever did have an interest in it. But I’ve had the most fascinating conversation recently, about building a bookshelf, of all things, and it’s made me keen to understand the concepts involved.

  “I see…” said Isobel, arching her delicate eyebrow and walking toward him. “You’ve been chatting to the carpenter?”

  Isobel looked quite like their mother, tall and slender, with pale skin and rosy cheeks, and her soft brown eyes were large and round. Looking at her, Nicholas imagined how the Duchess would react if he told her about his conversation with Miss Baxter. But then, Isobel smiled at him playfully, and suddenly Nicholas relaxed. Isobel is as different from our mother in nature as she is similar in appearance. I need not fear confiding in her.

  “The carpenter’s daughter, actually” he said, with a wistful smile, remembering the feeling in his stomach that he had experienced during their conversation.

  Isobel said nothing to this announcement, but gave her brother a rather knowing look.

  “Miss Baxter actually works in her father’s shop, and will be building some of the pieces that Mother has ordered for your debut.”

  “A young lady working as a carpenter? How fascinating!” Isobel looked genuinely intrigued by this idea. Izzy would like Miss Baxter, I’m sure of it, even if Mother and Father would never approve.

  “Yes, she is quite fascinating. I believe she is the most fascinating person I have ever met.” Nicholas said, more to himself than to Isobel.

  “I see,” Isobel said with a smile. “The carpenter’s daughter is the most fascinating person you have ever met. Is that because of her carpentry skills, or does she have other charms as well?”

  Nicholas pretended to ignore this comment, and returned to his book. He found it difficult to concentrate, as his mind was preoccupied with the many charms of Miss Baxter. He was remembering the delicate curve of her pink lips when she smiled at him, when he heard Isobel speaking once more.

  “I gather from your silence, that Miss Baxter must have caught your attention with more than just her knowledge of geometry. I suppose she must be quite beautiful.”

  “Izzy,” Nicholas said, cautiously, “I hardly think that matters.”

  “So the answer is yes, then.” Isobel said, matter-of-factly.

  Nicholas scowled at his sister, but she continued to speak.

  “Come now, Nick, do tell me about the lovely Miss Baxter. I want to know more about the young lady who is capable of capturing my brother’s attention so fully. I won’t tell Mother and Father, obviously.”

  Isobel had sat down in the armchair opposite Nicholas and placed the book she had been holding on the small table between them. She looked at him now with frank interest, and he felt sure that he could trust her to continue this conversation without fear of judgement.

  “All right then,” he said, feigning exasperation. “If you must know, Miss Baxter is quite lovely, in addition to being clever. Her eyes are hazel, in truth, but they have the most amazing quality, wherein they appear to be green at certain times, and I expect they would appear blue at others. She is quite tall, taller even than you, Izzy, though not as tall as me. When I met her, although we only spent a few moments together, I felt instantly as though we would be able to talk to one another for hours and hours, never running out of things to say.”

  “Well,” said Isobel, “she really does sound delightful. I suppose you should like to involve yourself more in the process of designing our new furniture, just to have the chance to see her again.”

  “Indeed, I would like that, although Mother might not approve. No doubt she would think it quite improper if she knew that Miss Baxter actually designs and builds the furniture herself, rather than just acting as her father’s assistant.”

  “No doubt Mother would find most anything that a carpenter’s daughter does improper,” Isobel said with an unconcerned air. “But Mother need not know too many details. In my experience, the less she knows about the particulars of day-to-day life, the better.”

  Nicholas barely had time to register the cryptic nature of his sister’s statement, before the bell rang to summon the family to supper. He returned his geometry text to the shelf, and noticed that Isobel placed her book on the table in the hall on her way to the dining room. He supposed that she planned to bring it to her bedchamber and read there tonight.

  He spared only a moment to wonder what she would read about, before his thoughts returned to Miss Baxter.

  * * *

  Cecilia was working in the shop, humming a simple tune to herself as she sanded a long cedar plank. Cedar was one of her favorite types of wood to work with, and she breathed in deeply, enjoying the heady scent of the wood. The workshop smelled of glue and varnish most of the time, but she had become so used to those scents that she hardly noticed them. The smells of the different types of wood were the only ones to which Cecilia paid any attention.

  Her long dark hair was plaited and coiled in a bun at the nape of her neck, but one stubborn strand escaped at her left temple and fell into her face. Cecilia pushed the strand away with a gloved hand, tuck
ing it behind her ear. She stood upright as she did this, and arched her back to stretch it. After spending so much of the day bent over at her work, stretching felt wonderful, and she sighed in relief.

  Just as she was stretching, Archie Mowbray entered the shop holding several more pieces of cedar that would be used to build the Duchess’ new wardrobe.

  “All right, Cecilia?” he asked.

  “Quite all right, Archie, and yourself?”

  “Well, your father is certainly keeping us both busy, but I must say that I’m enjoying working on this wardrobe. I think that maple is my favorite wood to work with, but the cedar really is lovely,” he mused. “What about you?”

  “I do love working with cedar, the smell is so lovely. Of course, we’ve made some lovely pieces in maple as well.”

  “I remember the cradle you made for your doll when you first began working in the shop,” Archie paused to grin at her and then said, “wasn’t that made of maple?”