Even though I had nearly a month of marriage to my name, the entire endeavor felt like a surreal dream from which I could not wake.
Tom had spirited my mother-in-law away the day before Hugh and I left for the country. She was set to take in the waters in Bath for her megrims. Given that I was the primary cause of her megrims, I had high hopes that Bath would revive her but little confidence in the longevity of her cure when she returned to town. Why the waters in Bath were any different to the waters at nearby Margate, who was to say? My preference was for their distance.
It was a relief to experience the overwhelming house without her judgmental gaze. And overwhelming it was, massive and stunning in equal measure. The exterior was a well-maintained red brick with slate roofing. It jutted from the center of a circular drive, imposing in its size—it was easily five times the size of my parents’s vicarage.
The interior was clearly Agatha’s doing, unfortunately. Once again, filled with expensive furnishings of poor quality designed entirely with fashion in mind. But there was one advantage the home offered that the London house did not.
A pianoforte.
I nearly cried at the sight of the magnificent instrument. It was made of a rich, warm wood with delicate inlays and decor. My husband and his mother may not care for music, but someone in the not-too distant past was an aficionado.
There was a thick layer of dust over the entire instrument, and I blew it away from the keys before tapping down on the middle c.
I could not hold back a wince—out of tune. That was to be expected. That could be remedied. Already, my fingers itched to grace the keys once more, but I forced myself to wait. It would be all the sweeter for tuning.
The London house suffered for lack of a housekeeper. It was clear from the state of the music room that this home was in the same desperate need.
Anna and the rest of the staff who joined us in the country had been hard at work already, airing out my boudoir of the lingering stench of death and lilacs that followed the dowager. It was much too large a home to maintain only when the family was in residence. It required regular love and care.
With the staff seeing to far too many duties, and my husband meeting with his solicitor, I was left to explore on my own. I was grateful for the reprieve. For the few moments his absence afforded me to be Kate, thoroughly overwhelmed by her new position and home, instead of Lady Grayson, Viscountess.
I almost laughed when I stumbled into the library. Jules thought the library in town was impressive… I would need to invite her for a visit. Though I would certainly never see her again when I did. She would be buried in the mountain of tomes, never to be seen again.
Hours later and exploration unfinished, I meandered in the direction that I recalled the dining room to be. I had directed an informal meal; everyone was much too busy to manage a full supper.
The dining room, that was overwrought as well. Another oversized table certainly capable of seating at least twenty. There hadn’t been time to see about shrinking it down, so I ordered my place setting next to Hugh. Incorrect, it may be, but I was not willing to shout at my husband an entire meal.
He was already seated when I arrived, looking in askance at the setting at his side. I sat myself, not wishing to disturb the footman for such formalities.
Braced as I was for disapproval, he shocked me with a grin. It was crooked, and made his eyes crinkle in the corners. There was a dimple on the upturned side. Inanely, I wondered if he had dimples in both cheeks or just the one.
It was a punch to the gut, how handsome he was at that moment. He was beautiful—blindingly so. Now that the steely slash of his mouth had relaxed, I could see his lower lip was fuller than his upper. I had the absurd desire to taste it.
He had taken the notion of a casual dinner to heart as well, wearing only a waistcoat with his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows, no cravat to be found. His hair was ruffled, tousled, as if he’d run his fingers through it more than once.
I knew I was staring, likely in an incredibly insipid fashion, butgood lord. How was I to speak, to think, to breathe next tothat? In slow motion, I could see the grin start to fall, no doubt self-consciousness shifting in at the corners.
More than anything I had wanted in weeks, months, since that night in the closet, perhaps before, I wanted that grin back.
“Sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile quite like that.”
“Surely that’s not true,” he said, grin slipping further away.
“Don’t stop, I like it.”
He blinked, parsing my words for a moment, before the grin returned, even more brilliant than before. This time he added a crooked brow to the mix, pleased with himself. He straightened too, running a hand through his hair, preening. For me? It wasn’t my gut that received this punch this time. Instead, it hit lower, in a completely new way.
I liked that too.
I felt an answering smile blooming on my face. Without warning, without bidding, words from months ago flashed through my mind, “her lips are too big.”
My heart sank, and I caught my oversized lower lip between my teeth before it could offend, sliding my gaze down to my plate.
Beneath the table, I felt a bump against my knee. Hugh had nudged my knee with his own, teasing or friendly perhaps. His effort had the desired effect, and I met his eyes once more.
“What happened? Where did you go just then?” His eyes were wide, earnest.
“Sorry, I just remembered something someone said one time. Shall I ring for dinner? I suspect they’re distracted with opening the house and lost track of time.” I tried for an unaffected air, but it rang hollow to me.
