‘Oh, how delightful!’ Rebecca exclaimed, with what she thought was convincing enthusiasm, considering her exhaustion. ‘How many, and when do we expect them?’
‘The Marquess and another gentleman are to arrive overmorrow, according to the note which came this morning. I am sure His Lordship will wish to discuss arrangements with you, but I thought it best we make some preparations without delay.’
‘Yes, an excellent idea, Mr Brown. We have so little time.’
‘Particularly regarding service at mealtimes.’
‘Yes, it would be best to not be seen wanting.’ Rebecca smiled again, and Mr Brown cocked his head, as if he’d been expecting a different reaction to the news altogether. ‘I will speak to His Lordship about trying to hire more staff in the village, but I doubt any will come. I think, if you and Gregory serve, Lizzie and I can bring everything up from the kitchens. That shouldn’t be too unseemly...’
‘Indeed, Mrs Hardwicke. Shall we discuss this further over breakfast? With the rest of the staff?’
‘Yes, I would be grateful for their thoughts—and some coffee.’
With a nod, Mr Brown turned, and led the way to the servants’ hall. Rebecca sensed he was still very much aware of her, still gauging her reactions. She understood then that he knew something had passed between her and Liam. How, or how much, mattered little.
The Marquess, an old school friend...
The old butler had, in his effortlessly subtle yet obvious manner, emphasised that information so that the significance of the visit was clear.
They’ve come to welcome him back.
The Marquess would be the first of many who belonged to Liam’s old life, to his future. People who belonged to the same society Liam did, no matter how hard either of them tried to forget. Liam was not Liam. He was the Earl of Thornhallow. As such, he would take his place among them, do what was expected.
Whatever had been between them both, was over. The time had indeed come for the world to be righted. And Mr Brown had sought to prepare her, to help her avoid any surprise or discomfiture when Liam told her the news.
She was immensely grateful, despite the wave of shame that washed over her at the realisation that he knew—or suspected, at the very least—the nature of her relationship with their lord. Though there had been no judgement in his manner, only a strange sort of concern. He had sought to, discreetly and kindly, prepare her for the inevitable future, remind her of her place, and the reality that came with it. He’d granted her time, to ensure she was nothing less than professional when facing the others. When facing Liam.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered, passing him as he held the door for her.
A nod, and it was as though nothing had passed between them. They both took their places at the table, and as Mrs Murray served them breakfast, discussed the news and arrangements to be made with the rest of the staff.
Rebecca was like an automaton, going through the motions as she had countless times before when advised of guests’ imminent arrivals, concealing her emotions beneath a mask of professional collectedness. Later, she would take a moment to reconcile herself with the notion that whatever she and Liam had shared, whatever they’d become, was now officially at an end.
Chin up, you daft moppet. You will be a model of grace and dignity if it’s the last thing you do.
It was her own folly that had brought her to this, her own choices which now cut through her like knives. No one would see how much it hurt. Not now, not ever. She had crossed so many boundaries, allowed herself to behave in a fashion so improper already... That was quite enough. No one would know. No one would see.
Least of all Liam.
Once the staff had finished their breakfast, and all their preparations had been set in motion, Rebecca retired to her office. She allowed herself a moment of wallowing, allowed herself to feel the pain which took her breath away, and threatened to stop her heart.
When the bell she’d been expecting rang out shrill and sobering, she wiped away the escaped tears, smoothed her hair and skirts, and made for the study.
Liam stood as he had countless times before at the windows in his study, hands clasped behind his back, the very picture of a lord surveying his domain. Yet again he stared unseeing at the white, glittering landscape before him. Yet again his thoughts were affixed somewhere else. On the door behind him. On who he waited for.
Rebecca.
Absent-mindedly, he fiddled with the cuff of his jacket, desperately attempting to find the right combination of words. Still, he was no further than he’d been when he’d learned of his friend’s imminent arrival. When he’d realised he would have to tell Rebecca.
He wished he could regret all that had passed between them. Wished he could hate, curse himself—and her—for having succumbed to temptation. But he could not. The only person he could find it within himself to curse was Henry Spencer, Marquess of Clairborne. For he was the one breaching the world he and Rebecca had created. Thehomethey had created. Spencer, and the world beyond these walls, were destroying this beautiful place they had made. This haven.
Deep down, Liam had known this day would come—but not so soon.
And not like this.
He hadn’t had enough time with her. Though something inside him whispered that he would never have enough time with her. Not in a thousand lifetimes.
Damn you, Spencer.
