Twelve
THE NEXTmorning, Kendra was more than relieved when Trick awakened her with a breakfast tray and told her he had “things to take care of” and would return late in the afternoon. She guessed he’d gone out to play the highwayman again and didn’t quite know how she felt about that.
Or him.
Never mind that he knew how to make a decent cup of chocolate with plenty of sugar to satisfy her sweet tooth, she hadn’t any idea what to say to the man.
It felt a mite ridiculous to put on the wedding dress again, but she had nothing else to wear until her maid arrived with her luggage. She washed up and used Trick’s comb to neaten her hair, then clasped on the amber bracelet, pausing for a moment to appreciate how the diamonds caught the light. Though she had little doubt Trick no longer considered her “worthy,” the bracelet was beautiful, and she intended to enjoy it.
She munched on bread spread with orange butter as she wandered about the cottage. There were three more rooms off the corridor, but Trick had apparently found no use for them. The few pieces of furniture were covered in sheets, the floors and walls clean but unadorned.
Her work was cut out for her, but at least it would give her something to occupy her time. She was used to caring for an entire estate and found it hard to imagine what she would do with herself here. Looking forward to Jane showing up with her things, she anticipated the two of them spending a pleasant couple of days rearranging furniture and unpacking before she went stark raving mad with inactivity.
She chose a room for Jane and another she thought would suffice for herself, since she didn’t plan to share with Trick anymore. The fourth and last room would make a nice nursery, except she had no intention of doing what it would take to fill it.
No wonder Caithren had yet to conceive.
Finished with her survey in a depressingly short time, she briefly considered going home to yell at her brothers, but remembered she wasn’t speaking to them. She wandered to the bookshelves that lined the corridor. Noticing an abundance of poetry, she chose a book of Shakespeare’s sonnets and the first two volumes of Milton’sParadise Lost, then sat herself in the main room to await her maid’s arrival.
She was bored silly by the time Trick showed up, instead.
Thirteen
HE’D SAID HEwanted to give her a “tour of the countryside,” as though she hadn’t lived in the countryside half her life. He’d brought an elaborate supper for them to share in the caleche on the way, though she couldn’t imagine where he’d obtained it.
They’d driven through miles of rich farmland and a country village called Amberley that bustled with prosperity. All the while, he’d kept up an entertaining travelogue but raised no personal subjects. Nor had he responded to her discreet probing, skillfully turning the topic back to the scenery instead.
Three hours later she knew nothing more about him than she had when she said her vows. And after all his threats last night—“you’ll beg me”echoed in her head—he hadn’t even touched her.
Not that she wasn’t relieved, but nothing about this man added up, and that in itself was disquieting.
The sun was low in the sky when she dropped her napkin into the picnic basket and licked roast chicken off her fingers. “What if Jane and my trunks arrive and we’re not home to meet her?”
“Relax,leannan. Don’t worry yourself. We’ll be there soon.” He put his hand on her knee, then looked down and snatched it back, flexing it before gripping the caleche’s reins.
Her knee tingled where his fingers had lain. “But—”
“Don’t worry,” he repeated. “We’re almost home now.”
“No, we’re not.” She had an excellent sense of direction. Though their meandering journey had brought them back near the cottage, he was now driving the opposite way. “It’s—”
“There.” He inclined his head as he guided the caleche off the road and onto a well-groomed drive. A very long drive. Tall trees lined the way, and an enormous mansion stood at the end.
Built of russet brick with more windows and chimneys than she could count, the mansion had to be at least the size of Cainewood Castle. Except Cainewood was mostly ancient, damaged, and closed-up, while this home sparkled with newness.
“There?” She frowned at an ostentatious clock tower atop the building. Eight o’clock. Little more than a day since she’d been wed, and she’d never felt so lost in her life. “Whatever do you mean? What is this?”
“Your new home.” His wide mouth quirked in a half-smile. “Do you like it?”
“L-like it?” she sputtered. “I don’t understand.” Her hands twisted together in her lap, her fingers finding the amber bracelet and worrying the smooth, polished stones. “Do you work here?”
He blinked, then smiled wider. “Why, yes, I do.”
“What of the cottage?”
“No, I don’t work there. Not usually, in any case. It’s more a place to escape, get off by myself for a while—ah, here we are.”
Puzzled, Kendra turned from Trick to the house, where the double doors were flung open and a steady stream of crimson-liveried servants poured out and down the wide marble steps.
