Chapter Twenty-Two
Clavering seemed determinedto fete every person of substance in Nether Abbas and surrounds—and some of no substance at all—as if to prove his family had nothing to hide. Gideon couldn’t blame him, but he hated it just the same. Selwyn Court’s dining room and central hall had been cleared of furniture to accommodate a crowd, and the wedding breakfast droned on while people nibbled dainty sandwiches and swilled punch served from trays by harried-looking footmen.
Gideon stood near the mantel in the front drawing room, forced to endure the greetings of the vicar, Hinson the grocer, a grim-faced Carter the blacksmith, Duger the balding apothecary and his skinny wife, several Selwyn Court tenants, and God help him, Adcock the stationer and Gratis, not one of whom had ever extended him courtesy before. He felt like the clown in a mime, all eyes watching to see if he made a fool of himself. He hated that Mia, standing at his side, had to hear sly innuendo and witness sidelong glances. Her cousin Eustace had been among the worst of them. Her grim expression left no doubt that she enjoyed it all as little as he did.
When at last the parade of spectators stopped, he took her hand in his, and they made their way through the throng in the hall, nodding to Marshall and Mrs. Morrit. Selina, long-faced at the failure of either Tavernash to put in an appearance, sat surrounded by local swains and left them alone. Clavering himself held court in a massive chair at the end of the dining room, telling all and sundry who would listen how proud he was that his niece had married the duke’s brother.The old hypocrite.
With Mia’s hand firmly in his, Gideon continued on into the servants’ hall, drawing stares there as well but blessedly no comments. He walked her to a window. “The rain has not returned.” They’d been grateful it had ceased before they’d left the church and were bundled into the Selwyn Court carriage. The brief ride had been their only time alone.
“So it has.” She glanced up. “Dare we do it?”
His new bride was a quick one. “Why not?” he grinned.
She sent a young and obviously adoring footman to fetch cloaks, hat, and bonnet. The lad seemed eager to demonstrate stealth.
A dash to the stables and the services of a groom eager to get his own view of the notorious couple had Hannibal saddled in short order.
“You rode?” she gasped. “How did he get here?”
He lifted her to the great horse’s back. “I had grooms bring him. I can manage short distances in a standard saddle. I didn’t want to be at the mercy of either household’s carriage, for this very reason,” he grinned.
He heaved himself up behind her and wrapped her warm body against his. Hannibal had hardly left the stable yard when Gideon saw the French doors in the dining room open. “Shall we flee, Mrs. Kendrick?” he asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. He urged Hannibal to a gallop.
*
Mia glanced upat Gideon. Her husband. As he walked toward the big house, his rolling gait was more pronounced than usual. She kept her pace to his, concerned about his back.
They had rushed to the stable at Selwyn Court like naughty schoolboys and galloped off on a laugh. Gideon hadn’t been laughing when they had surprised the Woodglen grooms, but he hadn’t asked for help dismounting. She was certain he’d winced when he lifted her down, but his swift kiss on the end of her nose had reassured her, and she didn’t comment.
She longed to ask him if he was in pain, if he had overdone it, if he needed help. She did none of that, uncertain whether he would welcome it. She suspected not. The ways she might cause hurt were many; there was much she didn’t know.
“Shall we take the servants’ stairs? It will be faster,” she said.Also easier for him and more private.
“Eager, Mrs. Kendrick?” he asked.
Her face heated. “I—That is, I assumed. I—oh, bother.”
His wicked smile turned her insides to mush. He tugged her hand toward the servants’ passage. When they passed the kitchen, he startled the lazing kitchen maid by requesting a cold collation. “Tea?” he asked, gazing at Mia.
She nodded. “Where?” she asked.
“My quarters, of course,” he said.
“Of course,” she whispered, her face even hotter.
Progress on the stairs was slow. He had wrenched his back; she was sure of it. She stopped. She’d held back long enough. “Gideon, would a hot bath help?”
She thought for a moment he wouldn’t answer her. He sighed. “It would.”
“I’ll go back and order it. You continue on. I’ll be right up.” She didn’t wait for an answer. She hurried to the kitchen and left firm instructions to bring a tub and hot water—hot not lukewarm. “We’ll require a kettle and spirit lamp as well.” It would enable them to heat their own tea in privacy. That they needed privacy, she had no doubt.
Breathless when she reached what she hoped was the correct floor in the family wing, she was relieved to see one door ajar. She peeked in to see Gideon standing by the window of a comfortably furnished sitting room.
“Shouldn’t you be seated?” she asked.
“If I do that, I’ll have to get myself up. I see your eyes darting around. Wouldn’t you like to explore our quarters?”
Our!She did, but she couldn’t hold back a skeptical frown. He ignored it.
