CHAPTER NINETEEN
Mara ventured out of her room shortly after luncheon, where she’d asked for a tray to be sent up. She’d claimed her ankle was to blame, but really, she’d just wanted to avoid Roarke. However, after a casual inquiry to Mrs. Hunsaker, Mara was informed that Lord Eversleigh had shut himself in his study and would likely be there for the remainder of the day.
Mara was abjectly thankful that she wouldn’t have to suffer any more cabin fever staring at the same four walls, and while she would never actually admit to being a coward, she knew the title fit her perfectly. But really, was it so wrong to want to avoid another strained conversation where nothing good could come of it?
Left to her own devices, Mara wandered about the grand manor, reacquainting herself once more with its grandeur. She had almost forgotten how massive the house actually was, but then, it had been over seven years since she’d walked these perfectly finished floors, or traversed its spacious rooms with furniture dating back to the time of Queen Anne.
Mara had been given one of the nicer guest bedrooms, with its own private sitting area and washing room complete with a copper shower bath. The fact that she had running water, heatedat that, had been shocking indeed, but rather lovely. She couldn’t help but wonder if the same improvements had been added to the family suites.
She bit her lip uncertainly and dared to turn the knob of a door she knew well—Lavinia’s chamber. At least, it would continue to be his mother’s until Roarke married and his wife moved in, but Mara preferred not to dwell on that overmuch.
For a moment, Mara’s steps faltered, for she suddenly felt like the worst sort of intruder. It was exactly the same as she remembered it. Decorated in varying shades of pink and ivory, it was as spotless as it always had been. It was obvious Lady Eversleigh’s wishes were carefully looked after, even though the servants had to know, as she did, that London was Lavinia’s personal haven.
Especially after what had happened here.
How many times had Mara had to knock to be allowed entrance to this very room to clean its grates? Bring fresh water for bathing?
Until she’d been assigned as Lyra’s personal ladies’ maid, she’d worked in the scullery. It had been her lot in life upon arriving at Eversleigh Hall to make sure the fires were tended to first thing in the morning before she went down to help cook with the meals. When one of the housemaids was sick, she’d had to fill in where needed.
After she’d left Eversleigh Hall, Mara promised herself that she would rise above servitude to others and make her own lot in life. While it had been a struggle, she had accomplished what she’d set out to do without anyone’s assistance, until Bentley had come along and they’d found a way to help each other.
Mara felt a bit more restored, and with a slight lift of her chin, she shut the door to that room and all the old memories it brought along with it.
Those days were over. For good.
She continued to move on, making her way through the opposite wing of the house. She walked through the ballroom with its connecting music room. The long drapes were pulled back to showcase a breathtaking view of the sea, and she paused to appreciate the splendor before her. Mara recalled a few house parties here where the panes had been thrown open to admit the salty air and cool off the attendees from a long night of dancing. While she hadn’t been admitted on the floor itself, she had peered at the activity from the corners of the shadowed balcony where guests were sparse.
With a secretive smile, Mara eventually made her way to the Grand Hall with its long line of family portraits. The moment she stepped over the threshold, she interrupted a housemaid in the middle of her duties.
“Excuse me, miss.” With a quick curtsy, the girl hastily fled the room before Mara could even assure her that her presence wasn’t unwanted.
On a sigh, Mara turned her attention to the portraits around her. The paintings showcased a long line of ancestors, the previous lines proving that Roarke would never be denied anything as a peer. Jewels and riches abounded in these paintings, and faithful hunting dogs were immortalized along with the family. Mara studied the girls in their pristine, white dresses and delicate hairstyles and the boys with their short pants and shining buckle shoes, and she had to wonder if they had ever known a moment of true joy in their lives. Had they been able to play, perhaps roll down a grassy embankment, without worry of ruining their precious clothes?
If she ever had children, Mara would make sure they knew how much fun being a child could be, before the harsh reality of life set in after becoming an adult. She had found a taste of it before Lily had run off, where the concern for her wellbeing was a constant disquiet for both Mara and her father.
“I hate to think what my great-great grandfather did to you to cause such a sour expression.”
Mara felt her lips reluctantly twitch as she turned to see Roarke standing several feet away with his hands in his pockets, almost as if he were a recalcitrant child. It was so endearing and uncertain that her earlier animosity toward him melted away like ice in the sun.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she countered with a saucy lift of her brow.
The smile he bestowed was devilishly charming, those mystic eyes of his shining merrily. “Ah, but I do so enjoy solving a mystery.”
If she didn’t know better, she might have thought there was an underlying meaning there, but the scandalous wink he shot her assured her he was only teasing.
As he walked past her, he paused now and then to observe one portrait or another. “They’re quite somber looking, aren’t they?” he noted.
“I don’t know if they had much choice,” Mara shrugged. When he glanced at her curiously, she explained, “I know I would hate to sit for hours on end while a stubborn painter tried to get my likeness just right. I certainly wouldn’t smile about it.”
The deep, husky laugh that followed made her toes curl in her slippers. “I suppose I can understand that, as I would detest it too. I keep hoping that before it’s my time to join this wall that there will be further advances in still photographs. As it is, Thomas Wedgwood has been the only one, thus far, who’s managed to capture a shadowy profile using chemicals on paper.” With a grimace, he added, “Somehow I doubt that will be enough of a standard to please my mother’s expectations.”
Again, Mara felt her lips twitch. “I doubt it too.” A companionable silence stretched between them before she shook her head. Too many moments like these and she might be drawn back into his web. “How did your meeting with your steward go? Don’t tell me you’ve already gone through seven years of estate management in one day?”
He snorted. “Not likely. I’m lucky if I even made a dent in all that blasted correspondence. I’m addressing any issues first and going on from there.”
“Spoken like a true landowner.” When he shot her a glance, she held up her hands. “I meant no offense, only that I’m…” she hesitated over whether to say what was in her heart, but eventually gave in to the impulse. “I’m proud of you for taking on what must be a monumental task.” She gestured to the long line of viscounts. “I’m sure I speak for them as well. You’re taking the initiative to stand up for what is rightfully yours. In my opinion, you deserve to be right up there next to them.”
For the longest time, he merely stared at her, until she had to resist the urge to fidget.
