There had not been hide nor hair of a maid or tweeny, or housekeeper—and yet her surroundings were spotlessly clean and the service impeccable.
She rose and crossed to the window, looking out over a winter lawn, edged with evergreen shrubs of some kind. Their branches drooped with damp, since the rain had started once more, but even so, the prospect was charming. At the far end of the lawn there was a small hedge, and beyond a thicket of fir trees.
A harsh call distracted her attention and she raised her eyes, watching a large jackdaw heading for the forest.
“Noisy birds, aren’t they, my Lady?”
She jumped, hand to her heart, spinning around and nearly toppling as her heel caught on the edge of the carpet.
He was there in a trice, strong arms supporting her, bringing the fresh fragrance of sandalwood and leather, and whiskey-brown eyes that crinkled into a smile. “It’s all right. I’ve got you.”
He did indeed. And for a split second, Adalyn toyed with the notion of suggesting he might hold on to her for a little while longer.
“I am sorry. I am so clumsy…” She stuttered an apology, lost in the warmth of his gaze and his embrace.
He righted her. “Entirely my fault, I’m afraid, my Lady. I startled you.”
“My wits were wandering,” she smiled. “And that’s why I stumbled.” She moved to the elegant desk, gesturing to the chairs in front of it. “You must be Mr. Daniel, my estate manager? Please sit. I am eager to speak with you.”
“It’s Daniel, my Lady. Just Daniel. And yes, I do my best to manage Wolfbridge Manor and its assets.”
“I have questions, of course.” She sighed. “It seemed like a dream when Giles came up to me at my late husband’s funeral. In fact, it still does.”
“I can’t even begin to imagine, Lady Adalyn.” He crossed his legs, resting a shiny boot on one knee of his breeches. “Perhaps it would be best for me to answer any questions you may have.”
“As in why I am here?”
“Precisely,” he nodded. “Although that story begins a hundred or so years ago.”
Adalyn smiled. “Giles told me much of it in the carriage. About the first Lady Wolfbridge.”
“Indeed. Well, not to repeat the tale, but to add to it—you now have control over the house and lands. If it matters at all, our records indicate you are the twelfth such lady to call Wolfbridge Manor home since the inception of its unusual situation.”
Adalyn digested his words, then shook her head. “I cannot fathom such kindness,” she said. “I can only thank the original Lady Wolfbridge, wherever she may be, and pray that she knows because of her, I am not out on the streets of London. Something that seemed all too close to being my only option.”
“There was no mention of anything for you in your late husband’s will?” Daniel tilted his head to one side.
“No,” she replied. “It wasn’t even a se’nnight after our marriage when his heart failed him. I’m sure he hadn’t yet thought of changing any of the details of his will.”
Silence fell for a few moments, and she looked down at her folded hands. How calmly she could say that now. And yet it was so soon after his passing.
“If I may be forgiven a personal question, Ma’am,” Daniel spoke gently. “Was his Lordship a kind husband?”
Adalyn swallowed. How should that best be answered? It was not in her nature to lie, but she’d also learned at an early age to keep her own counsel. She raised her head and met his warm gaze.
“Since he is the only husband I’ve had, I cannot really compare him to others,” she said, a slight smile curving her lips. “But to be honest, Daniel, I do not believe his behaviour would qualify him for that description.” She sighed. “And I have the bruises to prove it.”
The words were out before she realised it, and Daniel knelt beside her chair the next instant, leaping from his seat in a move so fast she barely registered it.
Reaching for her hands, he clasped them in his. “Hehityou?”
The emotions in his eyes caught her attention. As if anger and pain were warring each other behind those amber whiskey colours.
“I should not have mentioned it,” she whispered. “Please. That must remain a private matter between me and my late husband.”
His grip tightened as he separated her hands, raising the back of one to his lips. “You can rely upon my discretion, dear lady.” He pressed a kiss to her skin, then turned her hand over and pressed another to her wrist.
A tiny shiver danced over her flesh, tripping down her spine and warming places low in her body. She fought the urge to reach out with her free hand and run it through the thick black hair that showed an inclination to curl around his neck and face. It was cut short, probably to curtail that tendency to cherubic locks.
