Page 31 of The Earl’s Second Chance

Oakmere

Oakmere welcomed them beneath an avenue of copper beeches.

Elizabeth fell in love first with the light, then the library, then the stables. The house was smaller than Herfershire Hall but large enough to contain both dignity and mischief. Richard gave her every key upon a silver ring.

“Mistress of Oakmere,” he said.

She selected the key to his study and turned it in the lock behind them.

“Wife of its master,” she corrected.

The steward waited twenty minutes.

Married life proved no endless honeymoon, though desire threaded through it. There were leases, flooded cottages, breeding ledgers, difficult servants, and Richard’s leg, which worsened in damp weather. They disagreed over the cost of a new stable roof and whether a mare named Minerva was sound enough to breed.

Their quarrels were vigorous.

“You are not commanding a regiment,” Elizabeth told him.

“And you are not addressing Parliament.”

“If I were, I should have carried the vote.”

He stared at her, then began to laugh. She resisted for six seconds before joining him.

They learned to apologize without surrendering conviction. They established a tenants’ council that met quarterly. Elizabeth enlarged the school and asked Mary to choose its books. Kitty painted a series of Oakmere horses that brought commissions from half the county. Jane and Hartley visited from Matlock, their happiness serene but never dull.

Richard’s breeding programme began with six mares and a chestnut stallion of unfashionable plainness but exceptional endurance.

“He resembles his owner,” Elizabeth observed.

“Plain?”

“Stubborn.”

“Exceptional.”

“Recovering.”

He caught her around the waist in an empty stall and kissed her.

The stable door possessed an excellent latch.

So did the tack room. The estate office required a chair to be placed beneath its unreliable handle. The summerhouse had no lock at all but could be seen from only one upstairs window, which belonged to a guest room they kept unoccupied.

The servants became skilled at interpreting closed doors.

Six weeks after their arrival, Elizabeth pushed away breakfast tea and ran from the room.

Richard found her kneeling beside a basin.

“Are you ill?”

She looked up, pale and laughing.

“I am late.”

He frowned. “For what?”