“Well!” she said brightly. “We’d best get you ready. I’m sure he’ll be visiting you later, and you want to look your best for him. Not that you don’t already. You’re a pretty thing—I can see why he’s so taken with you.” She clasped her hands together. “Oh, I can’t wait to hear the sound of laughter and children once more! This old house has been silent and empty for too long.”
Shaking with embarrassment, Olivia rose, and Mrs. Brougham’s hand flew to her mouth.
“Bless me, I admonish young Susie enough for rattling on, andhere’s me doing the same! What must you think of us?”
“I think you’re all very kind,” Olivia said. “And, if you have no objection, might I ask a favor?”
The housekeeper raised her eyebrows. “A favor? From me?”
“I-I could ask my husband’s valet, but it might not be appropriate, and I don’t want to disappoint anyone by acting improperly.”
Mrs. Brougham frowned. “My dear child, whatareyou asking?”
“I-I couldn’t help noticing that you understood what my husband was saying with his hands,” Olivia said. “He’s shown me some gestures”—she moved her hands—“this is ‘no,’ for example, but I have so much more to learn. I-I know so little of being the mistress of a house, but I do want to be a good mistress, and more than that”—she hesitated, aware of the heat in her cheeks—“a good wife.”
Mrs. Brougham’s expression softened and she took Olivia’s hand. “My dear child, of course I’ll teach you.” She lifted her hand to Olivia’s cheek and brushed away a tear. “Hush now—there’s no need to distress yourself. Marriage can be an ordeal for any young woman—a new home away from her loved ones, new responsibilities, not to mention a husband to please. It’ll take time, but I’m sure you’ll settle here and be happy.”
She patted Olivia’s cheek in a motherly gesture. “I’ll leave you to your rest, your ladyship. Shall I send someone to tend to you in the morning? Breakfast is at eight.”
“Yes, please, send Susie at seven thirty if you would.”
“Susie?”
“I-I’d like to try her out as my maid, if you’ve no objection.”
The housekeeper smiled. “None at all, dear. You’re the mistress and have no need of approval from me.”
“Do I not?”
“No, dear. If you’re good enough for Master Charles, then you’re good enough for me. I suspect you’re more than good enough for him.”
She dipped into a curtsey, plucked the cup from the dressing table, then exited the chamber.
Olivia climbed into the bed and rolled onto her side, facing the doorway. Voices and footsteps echoed in the distance as the servants tended to their duties. At length, a heavier set of footsteps approached, and her skin tightened in recognition. They drew near, seeming to slow as they approached her chamber, and she caught sight of a shadow beneath the doorframe. Her body warmed with anticipation and shame as she recalled the events of the night before. But this time, she was prepared for him—for whatever he meant to do to consummate their union.
She curled her fingers around the bedsheet and held her breath. But, after a pause, the shadow moved and the footsteps resumed their path, diminishing until they faded into the distance.
She ought to have been relieved, but for the second night in a row, she lay back while the tears spilled onto her cheeks.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Are you well,sir?”
Charles spooned sugar into his teacup and stirred it. He lifted it to his lips, his hands trembling. Hot tea splashed onto the tablecloth and he lowered the cup with a clatter.
It had all been so real.
If he closed his eyes now, he’d see the same image that invaded his dreams last night—his mother’s vivid blue eyes, wide with shock, staring into his own as the spark of life drained from them. He could almost taste the thick, metallic tang of blood that had choked the air, almost feel its sticky warmth as it seeped into his clothes and marked the floorboards with an eternal stain of death…
“Sir!”
He jerked his head up to see John staring at him.
“Foursugars, sir? Do you not want to keep your teeth?”
The valet chuckled then cut into his bacon. The knife scraped on the plate and Charles winced.
“At least Mrs. Groves can cook bacon,” John said, chewing on a slice. “That pie last night! If you wanted to lose your teeth, you should have had some. Or you could use it as a doorstop if you prefer.”
