“I cannot allow you to—”
“Respect, Hugh.” The scold hung in the air between us. Her eyes were wide, shocked that it had escaped. She was right though, as usual.
“Very well. It is quite late tonight and you have been traveling for the best part of a week. I should allow you to retire.”
“I suppose so,” she agreed.
I rose, assisting her up. I trailed after her up the quiet steps, down the hall, and to her bedroom where I left her to get ready for bed.
Somehow I was both pleased and disappointed in the outcome of the evening.
Thirty-Five
THORNTON HALL, KENT - OCTOBER 16, 1814
KATE
“February 10,1807, modiste bill for £27. Same day, £5 at the cobbler. February 11, 1807, Flowers for £56.” Hugh read off the banking documents before him while I checked them against the solicitor’s documents.
“What on earth was going on that she needed to spend quite so much on flowers?”
“My mother was hosting a ball, I believe.”
“Did she purchase the entire florist shop?”
“Perhaps they had to grow the lilac trees specially.” He glanced up at me from beneath dark lowered lashes. The corner of his mouth turned up just slightly.
“Was that a joke, Hugh Grayson?”
“Only if you found it funny, Kate Grayson.”
“I did, more of those please,” I demanded.
“That is a great deal of pressure.”
“You can manage, I have faith.”
That statement earned me something even closer to a smile. His lips were fuller when he wasn’t frowning. He was beautiful, my husband. It was a masculine kind of beauty, but full pink lips, long black lashes, and silver-blue eyes could never be anything butbeautiful. It was a good thing he never smiled at me, or I would be in great danger of falling in love with him.
We continued on, comparing the years that all matched to perfection. Michael had been meticulous, down to shillings and pence. With every ledger closer to the time that Hugh took over, he grew more and more tense.
“What do you say we break for luncheon?” I asked.
“All right.”
“What do you say we eat outside then continue out there? The day is too fine to be cooped up in here.”
“But… It is work. Work is done in a study.”
“So says who?”
“Well… everyone,” he blustered.
“Just try it? Please? If it’s a mess, no harm done.”
He nodded his assent, and I went to find Mrs. Hudson to alert her to the change. She agreed with only a little tutting.
He found me in the rose garden, in the last crimson blooms of fall. Timothy had brought out a blanket and some finger sandwiches. Hugh joined me on the blanket with the ledgers, setting them off to one side.
