A package hadarrived from the jeweler. Alone, Kate burned with curiosity while she waited for Robert to return, but night fell with no sign of him. On one of her jaunts to examine the splendid paintings by mediaeval artists adorning the walls, she came upon a footman who appeared to have a sore foot, for he favored it when she passed him twice in the corridor.
“You have an injury?” she asked when next she came across him.
“Nothing serious, my lady,” he said in a faint voice. He wasn’t a young man, his hair quite grizzled.
“Perhaps you’d like a chair,” she suggested.
His gaze widened and he swallowed. “Oh, no. But thank you, my lady.”
“Is it the gout?” she asked sympathetically. “My grandfather suffered from it.”
The footman glanced up and down the empty corridor. “I fear it is.”
“Grandfather swore by cold water immersion and powdered elm bark.”
The footman cleared his throat. “He did, my lady?”
Kate nodded. “I shall ask the housekeeper if she has some.”
He looked alarmed. “That’s kind of you, my lady, but there’s no need.”
“I’ve heard you called Barker. That is your name?”
He nodded. “Yes, my lady.”
Kate went in search of the housekeeper. The woman looked shocked when she entered the servants’ quarters. Clasping her hands stiffly in front of her, Mrs. Graves admitted she had none to hand, but would send out for the elm bark immediately.
“Please don’t worry, Mrs. Graves. I’ll purchase some when next I’m shopping.”
Kate left the woman speechlessly rising from a low curtsey and found her way back to her chamber to change for dinner. A housemaid awaited her in the boudoir, but she seemed nervous and inexperienced. Kate dismissed her and dressed herself. Satisfied that she looked tidy, she found her way to the yellow salon as she’d been instructed. The scale of the room took her breath away. A pair of massive crystal chandeliers hung from the high coffered ceiling and bronze silk covered walls adorned with paintings and huge gilt mirrors. Robert sat waiting in a gold brocade chair. He stood as she entered. He had changed for dinner.
“Have you been here long? Why didn’t you send word that you were home?” She bit the words off even as she spoke them, watching his eyes grow cool.
“I had some business to attend to. Come here, Kate. I have something for you.” Robert held a small box which he flipped open with his thumb. An exquisite rose-cut diamond ring nestled in cream satin like a beautiful exotic flower. It was surrounded by nine smaller diamonds in an elaborate gold setting.
“My goodness.” The diamond in the ring was almost the size of a walnut. She had never seen anything quite so beautiful, but it was also terrifying. What if she lost it? She’d almost rather keep his signet ring.
He held out his hand, and she placed hers in it, blushing when her fingers trembled. He drew his signet ring off her finger, then eased the ring on in its place.
“It fits perfectly,” Kate said with relief. Might he not kiss her and say something nice? He disliked poetry, but he needn’t be so coolly efficient.
“The wedding ring belonged to the former marchioness. I guessed your size and had it altered.”
“How clever of you.” She turned her hand this way and that. The diamond caught the candlelight and flashed like blue flame. “Tell me about her.” Kate did so want to know more about her new family. “I’d like to learn about them all. Those living and dead.”
“There’s plenty of time for that,” he said, his eyes becoming shadowed. “Invitations are pouring in, my secretary informs me. In a few days, when you are properly dressed, we’ll attend some of them. There are many waiting to meet you.”
She toyed with her bottom lip. “There are?”
He glanced away from her. “But of course. After dinner, I am engaged to visit my club with friends. I’m sure you must be tired.”
“A little, Robert.” It hadn’t really been a question.
After Robert departed, she wandered the library, which was another cavernous room. Arms folded, she walked the length of the room and back, several times, her heart sinking into her boots. Is this what she must get used to?
She came across a portrait of him hanging on the wall. Robert stood beside a gnarled oak in riding clothes, a crop in his hand, looking young and unhappy. She crossed soft Axminster carpet and climbed the iron stair to roam the many tiers of books. She selected a book of Alexander Pope’s poetry to read and retired early. Settled in bed, she found she couldn’t concentrate. After reading the stanza several times, she concluded she was too tired and put the book aside.
But once the candle was extinguished, she lay awake. Robert’s dressing room was next to hers. She heard him return and speak to his valet just after the grandfather clock in the hall struck one. Less lonely now that he was home, she turned over and fell asleep.
