Page 111 of The Betrothal

“Downstairs, then upstairs?” I offered.

“Right-o!” Seb bundled us up under his arms and guided us around the rooms.

My jaw hung in a perpetual state of shock. Of course, I’d seen plenty of manors. My family residence in the city sprawled much like this. But this wasn’t a property. It was a home.

I danced my fingers over the felt of the billiard table and the carved decoration on the fireplace of the drawing room, over the smooth stone of the staircase that I hadn’t spent time appreciating when I was here before. Then there was the primary suite – tucked away from the main gallery – it was more than a suite. It was rooms. Beautiful rooms.

Comfortable-looking chesterfields, which was quite a feat, faced out into a huge look-out, with views over what must have been the main gardens, currently lost to the snow.

A bed, double the size of those at the cottage, inside the bedroom, the walls painted a soft beige and ornate vined wallpaper on two sides. The dressing area to one end of the bedroom could have fitted my entire flat back at the university, and the bathroom? A tub sunk into the floor, vanities made of marble, and glass showers with multiple jets. Everything about the suite was huge. Somewhere someone could live. The only thing missing was a kitchen. The living space wouldn’t have looked out of place on the top of a block of flats – the ultimate classic penthouse.

“It’s stunning,” I marvelled. “And enormous.”

“It’s private, Killer,” Seb replied. “A private, contained space.”

I nodded.

“Now, I’d been pressing for testing out the bathtub,” Seb bemoaned. “But seeing as time has got away from us and Alex wants to get back. We will have to eat and get going.”

“Come on, Sugar.” Ben took me by the hand, switching off the lights as we went and drawing me back down the stairs into the kitchen.

“Holy stainless steel!” I whispered. Spinning until I found Alex at the sink. “You were holding out on me,” I accused him.

He had the good sense to look a little abashed. “I wasn’t. We used the staff kitchen. This is all unnecessary, but it still needed replacing.” He shook off his hands and dried the last of the damp items, placing them meticulously back into the cupboards.

“Staff kitchen, the smallest bedroom. You, Alex, are a glutton for self-abnegation,” I chided him.

“And you made Killer suffer the same,” Seb joined in.

Alex just grumbled, picking up plates of fresh bread and cooked meat.

“How did you manage this?” I grabbed cups and followed him through the house.

“Partially cooked makes it much easier. Plus, you’ve been reading for hours.” He pushed open the door to the orangery, and my rejection of the time I’d been wrapped up in the library died on my lips.

Seating and tables were scattered carefully around the space, the cushions dragged off to lie carefully on the now pristine flagstone flooring. They’d been cleaning. I realised how warm it was, noticing a log burner glowed in yet another hearth.

My face exploded into a huge smile. It was perfect.

I collapsed into the nest of cushions happily and began to pick at the food laid down. Pausing, I grabbed Ben’s plate and served him the exact same as me.

“See that preferential treatment, Alex?” Seb complained.

When I turned to him, his features were alight with a look of contentment; his words were a jest.

The pop of a cork distracted him, and Alex poured sparkling wine.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked.

“There isn’t one,” Alex muttered. “Seb insisted.”

“Oh, come on, Alex. The house is incredible. Killer is here. Ben and I are happy, you are…” He chewed on his next words. “You, but better for having our girl. That is all worth celebrating.”

Alex’s grunt was all the acceptance he offered, but the absence of further argument from him still had me thrilled.

We made it back just in time for the world to fall into blackness outside the windows. More fires were lit, making me appreciate how useful it was that they had their own woodlands, and everyone collapsed into a comfortable silence. I was surprised when Ben took the chair by the TV, passing up the space on the sofa with me.

My face fell into a pout when Seb chose to wrap himself around Ben’s legs, sitting on the floor under him.