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“Bastard,” Isabel muttered under her breath.

Was this his idea of welcoming his mistress to his country seat? All the servants stood, waiting—probably for their master—to be introduced to their mistress.

Isabel’s cheeks heated. It was obvious to everyone that neither the master nor his daughter particularly welcomed their new marchioness to their home.

She didn’t want to start her life at the mansion on the wrong footing, but the servants already studied her with distrust in their eyes. And now, she was left to introduce herself.

Isabel pulled on a cheerful smile. “Good evening, everyone,” she said overly brightly. “I shall be the new marchioness and the mistress of this house.”

The servants stood frozen as if rooted in place. None of them even blinked. The housekeeper, Mrs. Ainsworth, took a step forward and started introducing each servant by their name and station.

Isabel took a deep breath of relief. She studied each person avidly, trying to remember their distinct characteristics, like their hair or facial features, and associate that with their station and name so that she wouldn’t forget.

For example, Mrs. Ainsworth was worthy to be a housekeeper, the head of the household. That and her particular attire made her easy to remember. Rose, the upstairs maid, had red hair, Chloe, the chambermaid, had a name starting with “C,” just like her position. On and on, Isabel tried to remember everyone’s name and position. It would take her a few days, but this neat little trick her mother had taught her hadn’t failed her thus far.

When Mrs. Ainsworth was done introducing the household, Isabel smiled and let everyone get back to their business.

“Thank you, Mrs. Ainsworth,” she said, trying not to sound overly relieved. “Would you please show me to my quarters?”

“Of course, my lady. Please, follow me.”

Isabel walked through the manor in silence. It was a nice, spacious manor, if sparsely furnished and barely decorated. Now the burden of turning this place into a comfortable home fell onto her shoulders.

This was something Isabel was good at. She was glad she’d have mundane tasks to occupy herself with. Otherwise, she did not know what she’d do.

They reached the bedroom, and Mrs. Ainsworth opened the door with a flourish. “Welcome, my lady.”

Isabel stepped into the spacious room and looked around. The walls were covered with extravagant wallpaper with green and golden hues. The furniture looked rich and expensive. Everything had too much grandeur for Isabel’s taste. And the room especially stood out from the bare, sparsely furnished manor.

Isabel twirled, taking in the entire room. If she had a choice, she wouldn’t pick this room to live in. But this was the marchioness’s chamber, and it would do. At least for now.

“Anything else, my lady?” Mrs. Ainsworth intruded into her thoughts.

“Yes. Can you please spare me a maid? My lady’s maid will be arriving shortly with the rest of my trunks, and I need someone to take her place in the meantime.”

“Of course, my lady.” Mrs. Ainsworth bowed out, leaving Isabel one on one with her thoughts in the rich, extravagant chamber, feeling extremely out of place.

Chapter 9

Isabel came down to breakfast the next morning feeling rested after the grueling journey. She was starving and looking forward to a nice, long morning meal.

She entered the dining room and immediately was immersed in a serene atmosphere.

The dining room was not as extravagantly decorated as Isabel’s bedchamber, for which she was grateful. The curtains and furniture were upholstered with ocean-blue fabric with green ornamentation, making Isabel feel as though she were surrounded by blue sky and emerald waters. The sunlight streamed from the windows and illuminated the room in soft light. The rustle of paper and the smell of coffee added to the cozy feeling.

But the quiet, tranquil morning was ruined as soon as she noticed her husband, sitting at the head of the table, silently partaking in his meal. Just one glance at him reminded Isabel of all the animosity between them. The way he had treated her at the inn, the way he had abandoned her in the hall without bothering to introduce her to his staff, all of that made her blood boil all over again.

She’d had a full night to come to terms with her emotions, and she thought the anger she had felt would disappear come morning. But the memory of her humiliation did not give way.

Her husband turned the page of his paper, calmly sipping on his coffee. He was well-groomed, although his hair was still wet from a recent bath. His lips were pursed in disapproval, making Isabel wonder if he ever smiled or laughed in joy. He was so composed, damn him, and all Isabel wanted was to rip the paper out of his long fingers, tear it to pieces, and scatter it onto his head.

She smiled, the fantasy lifting her dark mood when he looked up from behind the paper.

“Good morning,” he rasped, a frown lining his forehead.

Isabel composed her features and demurely sat at the table. James, the footman she’d brought with her from her household, instantly jumped to bring her breakfast from the side table and poured her the chocolate. Isabel thanked him and delighted in the hot cup, trying to ignore the formidable presence beside her. It did not work.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked.