“Precisely. As your husband, you will trust me in this. All will be well.”
In the face of his implacable control, her arguments had withered like unready grapes on a vine. Yet her worry had continued to grow after they arrived home and he disappeared into the study with Mr. Murray. To distract herself, she’d gone to check on the children. Fiona and Max were preparing for the play that they, along with their young friends, would be performing this evening for their respective families. Given the circumstances, Gabby had wanted to call off the event, but Adam had said there was no reason to disappoint the children, and it was best to carry on as usual.
After Mr. Murray left, she and Adam had sat down for lunch. She’d tried again to bring up her fears, yet the presence of the servants had precluded her from making inroads. As had her husband’s obvious disinclination to discuss the matter. And by obvious, this was what he’d said: “Let’s not discuss the matter now, my dear.”
Not wanting to annoy him, she’d dropped the subject.
“I’m afraid we have a staffing concern.”
The housekeeper’s somber tone returned Gabby to the moment. “Yes, Mrs. Page?”
“It’s about Nell. We’ll be needing a replacement for her soon.”
Nell was Gabby’s lady’s maid of three years, a chatty, friendly blonde with a true talent for dressing hair. Nell had a follower named Tom, a cabinetmaker’s apprentice who’d been saving up for years to marry her. Tired of waiting, Tom had recently hit upon the idea of investing his meager earnings in a railway venture founded by the wealthy industrialist Anthony De Villier.
Gabby knew of De Villier and not just because his success was the talk of the town. Her father’s business, Billings Bank, counted the industrialist amongst its most important and illustrious clients. Papa had been an early supporter of De Villier and took great pride in the other’s achievements.
Thinking of her papa caused a band to tighten around Gabby’s chest. Her formerly indomitable parent had taken ill, and his physician had recently diagnosed him with a wasting disease that was likely to progress. Even so, he refused to rest, still going off to the bank every morning despite her pleas and the doctor’s advice to the contrary.
Her father had always been a driven man, with exacting standards for himself and everyone else. His mind, once made up, was nigh impossible to change. Nonetheless, when he attended the children’s play this eve, perhaps she could convince him to cut back his work hours…
Realizing that Mrs. Page was awaiting a response, she tucked away her concerns with a skill borne of practice. She’d been plagued by worries all her life, another one of her oddities. Perhaps it was because she’d never known a mama’s soothing love (her mother had died giving birth to her). Or because she hadn’t had any siblings or childhood friends with whom to air out these feelings. Or because she’d endured years of social ostracism, her peers at finishing school gleefully pointing out all her faults.
Whatever the cause, her head was a repository of anxious thoughts.
Since her marriage, she’d worked on improving herself, on becoming a wife worthy of Adam. What man wanted to be married to a woman who was constantly fretting? She was proud of the progress she’d made in managing her worries. When she couldn’t block them out, she’d learned to organize them so they wouldn’t feel as overwhelming. It was akin to sorting frippery into boxes to prevent the mess from spilling everywhere and into everything. How could one function with the chaos otherwise?
She’d created different categories for the thoughts she stored away.Worries About My Looks,Concerns About the Children, andScary Thoughts in Social Situations, to name a few. Her favorite was theBin of Blissful Ignorance, to which she’d consign all her troublesome thoughts if she could. She dumped her worry about her father, along with her concerns for Adam’s safety, into theWhen Men Refuse to Listen to Reasonbox—one that was frequently overflowing—and shut the lid.
She forced a smile. “Is Tom ready to make an honest woman out of our Nell?”
“He’s proposed, although the engagement may be a long one. Tom is using his profits to purchasemoreshares, you see. Young people these days.” Mrs. Page shook her head, her neat silver twist gleaming. “In my day, we didn’t wager our hard-earned savings on a fortune-making scheme.”
“I’m happy for Nell. What do you think she would like for a wedding gift?” Gabby mused.
“Isn’t that like you, ma’am, to always be thinking of others?” Mrs. Page gave her a fond look. “But lest you forget, you will need to start looking for a new lady’s maid, and the sooner the better.”
Gabby wrinkled her nose. Prior to Nell, she hadn’t had good luck with lady’s maids. Transforming herself into a fashionable wife had been a second area of self-improvement, one with significant challenges. Nonetheless, she’d remembered the advice given to her by a schoolmistress: “If you cannot improve upon the defect, then you must do your best to hide it.”
There was naught Gabby could do about her hair or freckles (fading solutions only irritated her sensitive skin and didn’t remove the offending specks). She had, however, given her wardrobe a complete refurbishment. Eschewing close-fitting silhouettes, she opted for garments with concealing necklines, roomy bodices, and full skirts. She requested extra ruffles, flounces, and trimmings to hide her excessive curviness (let’s face it, two pregnancies hadn’t helped matters in that regard). The end result might not be preciselyde rigueur, but the extra layers of armor made her feel more secure.
She didn’t know if her efforts pleased Adam; he seldom made comments of an intimate nature. Oh, he complimented her wifely accomplishments, such as her decorating skills and the menus she planned, her patience with the children. And, she thought with a rush of heat, he never shirked from his conjugal duties.
At the same time, he was also private and reserved, and she told herself that some distance in a marriage was a good thing. Indeed, it might make the heart grow fonder. The last thing she needed was for him to look too closely at her flaws and wish that he’d married someone better.
Her thoughts were proving draining. Her gaze wandered to the plate of cakes, the perfect pick-me-up. The fluffy golden sponge beckoned, its layers of snowy whipped cream and ruby jam mesmerizing.
I’ll make you feel better, it called to her.Fill you with sweetness and delight…
Her fingers trembled, her hand reaching out…
The imperious knock made her jerk, her hand dropping into her lap.
Adam?she thought in surprise.What is he doing here?
“Come in,” she said quickly.
Her husband entered, and all thoughts of cake vanished from her head. He was far more delicious. His larger-than-life presence dwarfed her spacious sitting room, his masculinity pronounced against the primrose silk walls. Whenever he was around, he absorbed her senses as black absorbs all light. Every fiber of her was attuned to him.
