Chapter Ten
For the second time in her life, Bryony woke up in a strange bed in a strange place with no recollection of how she had arrived there. Sitting up, she glanced around. This bedchamber was far different from the one in the Stone House. It was large and square, the walls papered in a muted blue-and-white stripe. White lace curtains fluttered at the two large windows on either side of the bed, plush carpets covered the floor. A low fire burned in the marble hearth. A dressing table that held her brush, comb, and mirror stood in one corner. A large wardrobe took up most of one wall.
Throwing back the covers, she saw that she was in her nightgown. Had Stefan undressed her again? She felt herself blush at the thought.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she sat up. Where was she? And where was he? She had a sudden memory of the night before. Never, in her life, had she been so frightened. If not for Stefan, she might have become a harlot…
Stefan. She bit down on her lip, remembering how his eyes had seemed to take on a red glow. Surely a trick of the light, she thought.
Padding to one of the windows, she parted the curtains. And gasped at what she saw. Hills covered in grass and timber, horses and cattle roaming free, a big red barn. Daisy munched on a flake of hay in one of the corrals. Two men werecutting wood, a young boy was scattering feed to a dozen or so chickens.
She whirled around as the bedchamber door opened. A young woman stood there, a bucket of steaming water in each hand. “Good morning, mistress,” she said, cheerfully. “I’ve come to prepare your bath.”
“Oh. Oh, thank you.”
With a smile, the girl opened the door next to the wardrobe. Stepping into the room, she emptied the buckets into a bathing tub. As she turned to leave the room, another woman brought in two more buckets and added them to the first.
“Breakfast will be ready when you are,” the first girl said. They curtsied in unison and left the bedchamber, closing the door behind them.
With a shake of her head, Bryony went into the other room. Fluffy towels and a bar of lavender-scented soap waited on a small marble-topped table beside the bathing tub. Removing her nightgown, she stepped into the deliciously warm water. For a moment, she lay back and closed her eyes. Almost, she could pretend she was home, in her own chambers. Home. Would she ever see it or her family again?
Huffing a sigh, she reached for the soap, suddenly curious to see the rest of the house, to ask one of the young women where she was. Where Stefan was. Last night, he had rescued her from a horrible fate. She owed him a debt of gratitude she could never repay, she thought. And then she frowned. If he had taken her home as she’d asked so often, she would never have been in danger in the first place. To be fair, she wouldn’t have been in danger if she had stayed in the carriage.
She washed quickly, dried with one of the towels, and returned to the bedchamber. While she had been bathing, someone had made the bed and laid out her clothing for theday. She dressed quickly, then sat in the padded chair in front of the dressing table to brush her hair. She left it loose around her shoulders, knowing Stefan preferred it that way, though she refused to admit she wanted to please him.
Rising, she took a deep breath and left the room. A long, curved staircase led down to the first floor. The main room was three times as big as that of the Stone House. Furniture covered in a muted print was arranged around a large, white marble fireplace. Low tables were placed intermittently. Large paintings adorned the walls. A glass-fronted cabinet held a collection of knives and daggers of varying shapes and sizes.
Several doors opened off the main room. Curious, she tiptoed toward them. The first was a library lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, the second a den paneled in dark wood. Her eyes widened when she stepped into the third room, surprised to find her books on a shelf, her easels and painting supplies in one corner, her yarn in a basket beside a comfortable chair in front of a large window. A small fireplace laid with wood occupied one corner. Next came the dining room, and beyond that, the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled at the rich scents emanating from the large pots on the stove.
A middle-aged woman in a long, brown dress covered by a crisp, white apron urged her to take a seat at the dining table. The woman left the room, returning a few minutes later bearing a plate heaped with bacon, eggs, potatoes, a hot biscuit smothered in butter and honey, and a cup of cocoa.
“Will there be anything else, Miss?” the maid asked.
“No,” Bryony murmured, staring at the bounty before her. “Thank you.”
With a smile and a nod, the maid left the room.
Muttering, “I hope I’m not dreaming,” Bryony reached for her fork, thinking how wonderful it was to be waited on again.
Bryony sighed as she put her needlepoint aside. She loved this room which held all of her favorite things. It was warm and cozy, the walls a lovely shade of peach, the curtains white. She wished she dared frame the painting of Stefan and hang it on the wall, but for some reason she was reluctant for him to see it. She had tucked it under her bed and asked one of the hired men to hang Daisy’s picture instead.
Her first day in the new house had been a busy one. She had met Cook, a middle-aged man with a ready smile, a trim mustache, and a double chin; Mrs. Mulgrew, the housekeeper, a stern-looking women in her late forties; as well as the two housemaids, Constance and Claudia, who were sisters.
Mrs. Mulgrew had informed Bryony that Lord Stefan would be arriving that evening. She had also informed her that the help did not reside in the house but lived in their own quarters in adjacent apartments behind the main house. Bryony would be on her own after dinner and was advised that any needs or requests be addressed before the help retired for the night.
It reminded Bryony that Leanora had also gone home at sunset. Strange, she mused, as she made her way into the main room. Why was Stefan opposed to having the help reside in the house? Didn’t he trust them? But that was silly. Why would he keep them on if he didn’t trust them?
Settling on the couch in front of the hearth, she stared at the fire, mesmerized by the flames and the dancing shadows they cast on the walls. In the old house, Stefan had used magic to start a fire in the hearth. Stefan. What a mystery he was. Thinking of him made her heart beat a little faster. He wouldbe here soon. The help had already gone to their own homes. She was alone in the house.
She glanced at the window. Night was fast approaching. And so was he. She sensed his presence even before he entered the room.
“Good evening, fair Bryony.”
“Stefan.”
“How do you like your new home?”
“I prefer my old one at River North.”
