was a puzzle to him. She’d taken the trouble to bring him into her home to care for him, yet at the same time she seemed displeased at his presence. She was a woman who concealed things, that was certain.
He heard her move about the room.
‘Would you like a glass of claret before dinner?’ Good manners crept back into her voice.
‘I would dearly like a glass of claret.’ He missed wine. He missed brandy even more. He wondered if she would have brandy for after dinner.
He heard her open a cabinet and then heard the sound of pouring liquid. She handed the glass to him.
The scent of the claret was pleasure enough. Fruity and spicy, he savoured the aroma before taking a sip. Drinking from a wine glass proved to be quite easy. And the smooth, earthy flavour was a comfort to his sore throat. He felt like gulping.
He heard her sit. ‘I understand you just hired Mary and another maid. If that was because of me, you must permit me to bear the expense.’ Might as well speak plainly. She might like to conceal, but he favoured being above board.
‘The expense is nothing.’ She indeed made it sound as if it was a trifle. ‘And I did not hire them because of you, not precisely. They needed the work and I thought it would make it easier on everyone to have more help.’
‘I should still like to compensate you for the trouble I am causing you.’
‘Please say no more about money.’ She spoke the word as if it left a bad taste on her tongue. ‘I detest talk of money. I have well enough money to be a good hostess, you know. You are here to recuperate and that is what you shall do. The cost of it means nothing to me.’
Why was she so tense?
He tried some humour. ‘Are you a wealthy widow, then?’
She was silent for a moment before answering in a serious tone, ‘Yes. I am a wealthy widow.’
They drank their claret in such silence Hugh could hear the ticking of the clock and each small rustle of her skirts, but it did not take long for Carter to come to the door to announce dinner.
‘Dinner is served, m’l— Oh!’ He cut himself off. ‘Mr Westleigh! You are here.’
‘Mr Westleigh will eat dinner in the dining room with me, Carter.’ Mrs Asher made it sound as if nothing was amiss. She must be practised in hiding emotions from servants.
‘Very good, ma’am,’ Carter said. ‘I shall run ahead and set his place.’
Hugh heard Mrs Asher stand, and rose himself, offering her his arm—or hoping he was not merely posturing to the air.
Her fingers curled around his upper arm. ‘I’ll show you to the dining room.’
He smiled. ‘That is a good thing, else I might wander the house bumping into walls.’
‘You were very clever making it to the drawing room.’ She did not sound annoyed.
Perhaps this was a truce of sorts.
She led him out the door. ‘We are crossing the hall. The dining room is on the other side, a mirror to this room. The cottage really has a very simple plan.’
So, coming down the steps, the drawing room was to the left; the dining room to the right. ‘What other rooms are on this floor?’
‘A library behind the drawing room,’ she began.
He cut her off with a laugh. ‘I don’t suppose I’ll make much use of that.’
Her step faltered. ‘Behind the dining room is an ante-room with cupboards for dishes and cutlery and such. From that room there are stairs down to the kitchen and housekeeper’s rooms.’
He was able to visualise it. It did not seem like a large home for a wealthy widow, though.
They crossed the threshold to the dining room and she walked with him to what must have been the head of the table.
He heard the chair being pulled out. She released his arm and sat.
Carter came to his side. ‘Your chair is here, sir.’ He helped him to a seat adjacent to hers.
‘Our meal will be rather simple, I’m afraid,’ Mrs Asher said. ‘Some lamb stew and bread.’
It must have been near because Hugh could smell it. ‘It will be perfectly adequate for me. My appetite appears to have returned full force. I am very likely to eat whatever you put before me and demand seconds.’
He heard Carter pour some liquid. A glass of wine, Hugh could tell by its fragrance.
‘That is a healthy sign, I suppose,’ she said. ‘Perhaps tomorrow we shall have fancier fare. We shall have a cook tomorrow. And another footman.’
He frowned. ‘You are hiring many new servants.’
‘Y-yes.’ Her voice cracked. ‘Well.’ She recovered. ‘I just came from a lengthy stay abroad, you see.’
‘You are rebuilding your staff?’
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘That is it.’
He tilted his head. Why did she always sound as if she had something to hide?
He had no desire to challenge her at the moment, though. Not when she briefly seemed at ease with him.
‘I was abroad, as well,’ he said instead. ‘In Brussels. Were you there?’
‘No.’ She paused as if there were more for her to conceal. ‘In Switzerland.’
‘Ah, Switzerland. A place I should like to visit.’
Carter placed a dish in front of him and the aroma of the stew filled his nostrils. ‘Here is the stew, sir. I will place the bread on the left for you.’
‘Thank you, Carter.’ He lifted his head in what he hoped was Mrs Asher’s direction. ‘It smells quite delicious.’
He could hear her being served, as well. She thanked Carter and his footsteps receded.
‘Do eat, Mr Westleigh,’ she said.
He felt for the fork first. Spearing meat with the fork seemed the easiest means of getting the food into his mouth. It took him several tries, but he finally succeeded. The lamb was flavourful and tender. Next he managed to spear some potato. Eating so little in the past two days had wreaked havoc on his appetite. It indeed felt like he could not get enough.
‘Is it to your liking?’ she asked.
He laughed. ‘You cannot tell? I am certain I am shovelling it in like an ill-mannered peasant.’
‘You are allowed some lack of graces due to your injuries.’ His blindness, she meant.
He forced himself to slow down, searching for the bread and tearing off a piece. ‘What brought
