“Come. Let me serve you.” He seated her and proceeded to load a plate with a little of everything.
“I cannot possibly manage all this,” she said, shaking her head as the amount of food grew larger.
“Just try, my Lady. You need sustenance.”
“Very well,” she agreed. “Oh,tea…”
He slid a cup to the side of her plate and she greedily sipped, relishing the strong restorative brew.
Sighing with delight, she turned to him. “Giles. Please sit and eat with me? I am not used to having a butler, so for now…would you just be my friend?”
He hesitated and Adalyn prayed she hadn’t offended him.
Finally, as if completing an argument with himself, he drew out the opposite chair and sat. “Very well. This is completely inappropriate, but given the circumstances, I shall beg you to overlook it.”
“Done,” she said, purring over a forkful of meat pie.
They both ate, Adalyn with glee, wishing she had room for lots of everything. But the pie, the fresh bread and the tea did the job for her, filling her belly most satisfactorily.
Giles did justice to the simple but tasty meal, and Adalyn took a few moments to observe him, her thoughts for the first time looking forward, not backward.
He was very handsome, she mused. Dark hair with delightful wings of silver beginning above his ears. It was short, as was the fashion, but thick still, framing a strong face. The eyebrows were also dark, arched above those warm brown eyes.
The surrounding crinkles told of a man who smiled easily, and his lips curved naturally, adding to the pleasant aura he presented. As to his age…she hazarded a guess at around fifty or so. His moustache was neatly trimmed, as was the small goatee on his chin.
“You must be a very good butler,” she said, her thoughts popping out before she realised it.
She blushed and covered her mouth with her hand for a moment. Then, horrified, whispered around it. “I do apologise, Giles, I did not mean to make an unwanted personal remark.”
He shook his head. “Lady Adalyn, you have just paid me a high compliment. Please remember that I am yours to command.”
Something in his eyes, some light, some glow of warmth, touched a nerve inside Adalyn. He was indeed a most attractive man. In many ways.
“In that case,” she ventured a little smile, “I command you to tell me about where we are going and explain some of the things I do not know.”
He finished his tea. “I will. But perhaps it’s best kept for the privacy of the carriage? I’d prefer not to share such business with servants’ ears, and we still have a few hours before journey’s end. That should be time enough for the basics.”
He stood, as did Adalyn. “Very well.” She gathered her things, allowed a maid to help her into her black spencer, and settled her bonnet, tying the ribbons beneath her chin.
“Shall we, my Lady?” Giles extended his arm.
“Yes indeed,” she answered, surprising herself with the willingness she felt to venture onward during this very unusual and confusing day.
Once moving again, Giles seated opposite her, Adalyn asked again. “So the story, please. You promised.”
“Very well.” He settled himself comfortably against the squabs. “Wolfbridge Manor is a small but tidy property, consisting of a house—about a dozen bedrooms—a modest acreage, and several farms, all working, all tenants-for-life. It is almost self-sustaining, and we’re known for our extraordinarily fine berries.”
She smiled. “I do love jam.”
“Then you will be very pleased with the Wolfbridge jams, my Lady. We’ve taken prizes in many fairs, and our cook, Evan, always brings the pride of Wolfbridge to his dishes.”
“You have a male cook?” Adalyn’s eyebrows rose.
“We do,” Giles nodded. “But that’s for a bit later. Right now, you should know that this property has been deeded through generations to a very select group of ladies.”
He leaned back in his seat. “The original owners of Wolfbridge Manor are unknown; estimates say it was built sometime in the fifteenth century. And indeed parts of it are quite ancient. We do have records of Wolfbridges in residence during the Restoration, but the first owners that set the Manor on its current path took up residence around a hundred years ago, during the reign of George the First.”
“Our first Hanoverian monarch,” whispered Adalyn.
