“Yes, and I like it.” He stroked her arm. “Why not try to get a bit of rest so you’ll have new exclamations available when we reach London? You must be tired since we were up half the night talking over the dinner table.”
“Yes, and it was lovely.” She covered a yawn. “You’re right about being tired though. Wake me when we reach London.”
She dozed off, and didn’t wake until Richard said, “We’re entering Mayfair and will be home soon.”
She shot up in the seat. “You let me miss most of London!” she said indignantly.
“It will still be there tomorrow, and you’ll be less tired.”
“I look forward to spending years exploring London.” She returned to pressing her nose on the carriage window. “I was brought here once or twice as a child, but I don’t remember much of anything.”
He looked out the opposite window. “We’re almost there. The house is on Mount Row, which is kind of a pocket Berkeley Square. The private garden in the center of the square is much smaller and has no Gunter’s for ices, but it’s pleasant to look out and see a bit of greenery.”
“It looks lovely!”
The carriage rumbled to a stop by a house on a corner. Richard climbed out, flipped down the step, and offered his hand. “Welcome to your new castle, my princess!”
She was almost bouncing with excitement. The square was surrounded by neat terraced houses, all of them well kept. She realized that the front doors were each painted a different color, subdued enough not to be distracting, but quietly enriching the square. Richard’s house—theirhouse—was distinguished by a very dark red door. “I think you said the couple who take care of your house are named Bolton?”
“Yes. They’re both very capable, with the magical ability to appear when needed and remain invisible the rest of the time.” He led Callie up the half dozen steps to the front door and rapped briskly with the shining brass knocker. Callie smiled to see that it was a lion’s head.
Having given warning that they were there, Richard opened the door with a key and ushered her into a small vestibule. It was shiny clean and brightly lit by the afternoon sun, with a vase of autumn flowers set on a long table against the wall. Next to the vase were three baskets overflowing with letters and invitations.
“Go away for a few months and the post gets quite out of hand,” Richard remarked as he helped Callie with her cloak. By the time he had it off her shoulders, a man who must be Bolton had appeared. He was burly and had a ragged scar down the left side of his face.
“Lord George!” He bowed, seeming genuinely pleased. “How good to see you home again.”
“My wife and I have decided to dispense with being Lord and Lady George,” Richard said. “We’ll be Mr. and Mrs. Gordon Audley. I’m sorry if that diminishes the respect that your positions inspire with other servants.”
“We shall endure, sir.” Bolton’s expression was sober, but his eyes were amused. “Welcome to London, Mrs. Audley. And may I offer my congratulations to you both?”
“You may.” Callie smiled at him warmly. “I’m anxious for a tour of the house.”
“It will be my pleasure to show you around, Catkin, though it won’t take long.” As Richard offered her his arm, he said to Bolton, “Will you see to the luggage and driver, please? When we’re downstairs, I’ll ask Mrs. Bolton to have dinner ready in an hour and a half. Nothing elaborate, if that suits you, Callie?”
“That will be perfect.” Under her breath, she said, “I assume the last stop on this tour will be the master bedroom?”
He gave her a devilish smile that required no words.
Mrs. Bolton proved to be a sturdy woman with shrewd eyes and quiet confidence. Callie thought the two of them would get on very well.
They moved from the kitchen level to the public rooms a flight up. The house was attractive, with most rooms warmed by richly colored Persian carpets, though it could use some small decorating touches.
Richard said apologetically, “The place needs more work. I haven’t owned it long and I’ve been away a good bit of the time. Feel free to make what changes you wish.”
“I enjoy home decoration.” She suppressed a pang at the thought of her beautiful vanished home in Washington. “I love this house, Richard. It’s so much warmer and more welcoming than the houses we grew up in.”
“That was rather the point,” he said wryly.
As he led her up to the bedrooms, she trailed her fingers along the silken oak of the railing. “The Boltons must love this house, too. They take such good care of it even though you haven’t been here for months.”
“They do love the place,” he agreed. “Bolton was a sergeant in the army and this is the first lasting home they’ve had.” He guided her toward the back of the house. “There are two bedrooms overlooking the back garden, and they have a connecting door. I use the one on the right as a sitting room and study, but it can be turned into a bedroom for the lady of the house if you like.”
She chuckled. “I am nowhere near tired of our marital bed, my Lionheart!”
“I am very glad to hear that,” he said solemnly as he led her into the bedroom. She caught a pleasing glimpse of the back garden before their attention turned to the bed. It was almost as large as the one at the Indian Queen Hotel.
And even more comfortable.
