wasn’t just a man who took a huge risk when he got married. When a woman chose the wrong partner, she could be just as miserable. He knew, because he’d seen it with Julia’s mother. She’d blossomed when she’d finally married her childhood sweetheart. Only to shrivel to a husk of her former self when shackled to her third husband. Who’d been a brute.
It was all very well protecting himself from hurt, but not at Mary’s expense. Theirs might not be a love match, but there was no reason why he shouldn’t do whatever he could to make her happy.
He set the lamp back on its shelf by the back door before he unbolted it. And when Mary saw him, and came scurrying over, he caught her round the waist, then swept her up off her feet and into his arms.
‘Nothing else has gone right so far,’ he said. ‘But at least I can carry my bride over the threshold.’
To his immense relief, she flung her arms round his neck and burrowed her face into his chest.
She must be freezing, poor lamb. Else she wouldn’t be clinging to him like this.
He set her down gently and shut the door. Turned, and took both her hands in his.
‘I haven’t made a very good start as a husband, have I,’ he said ruefully. ‘I must have written a dozen letters yesterday. Thought I’d organised it all so brilliantly. But never took into account the possibility the Brownlows might have already made their plans for Christmas. And...’ he squeezed her hands ‘...I fear you are right. There’s nobody here but us. And there’s no telling how long they’ll be away. I dare say you must be really cross with me, but...’
‘No!’ She stunned him by placing one hand on his cheek. ‘Not at all. There are far worse things for a man to be, than a bit disorganised.’
‘Well, it’s good of you to say so,’ he said gruffly, raising his own hand to cover hers where it rested on his cheek, ‘but you do realise we’ve no option but to rack up here for the night? And that there are no servants, no beds made up for us...’
She gave him a brave smile. ‘It will seem better once we can get a fire going,’ she said bracingly. Clearly determined to make the best of a bad job. ‘And if the Brownlows normally live here, then there’s bound to be some provisions in the larder. We can manage.’
‘Come on, then,’ he said, kissing her hand in gratitude at her forbearance. ‘Let’s raid the kitchen.’
Pausing only to pick up the lantern, he led Mary along the stone-flagged corridor, his brow knotted in thought. His father had never really appreciated Julia’s mother. He’d treated her as though she ought to have been grateful he’d given her his name and title. He hadn’t seen it as a boy, but his father had treated his dogs and horses better than his own wife.
The minute he thought of horses, he recalled the hurt look that had flickered across Mary’s face when he’d told her how he’d sent his own horses down by easy stages.
Lord, he’d started out as badly as his own father had done! Pampering his horses and pitching his wife headlong into hardship.
‘You ought by rights to be ripping up at me for making such a botch of things,’ he growled as he opened the door to the kitchen for her.
She gazed up at him, wide-eyed. Then gave a little sniff and shook her head.
‘You were just in a hurry to get things ready for your sister,’ she said. ‘You were concentrating on getting her to a place of safety. It would have been a miracle if, somewhere along the line, your plans hadn’t hit a snag.’
‘That’s very generous of you—to take that attitude,’ he said, setting the lantern on the shelf just inside the door, which had always been used for that very purpose.
‘Let’s just hope this is the worst snag we hit,’ she said, untying the ribbons of her bonnet and setting it on the massive table that stood in the very centre of the room. Then she walked across to the closed stove and knelt in front of it.
‘Good, dry kindling laid ready,’ she said, opening the door and peeking inside. ‘And plenty of logs in the basket.’ She stood up, and scanned the shelf over the fireplace. ‘And here’s the tinderbox, just where any sensible housewife would keep it.’
Thank goodness she wasn’t one of those useless, helpless females whose sole aim in life was to be decorative. It would be an absolute nightmare to be stuck in this huge, empty house with one of those.
Fortunately, he managed to keep his thoughts to himself rather than blurting them out and provoking an argument. For what woman liked to hear a man think she was useful rather than decorative?
‘I’ll go and take a look around, then,’ he said, going to light another lamp. ‘See what I can discover. So long as you will be all right here for a while?’
She glanced at him over her shoulder and nodded, with a look that told him he was an idiot for even asking.
He gave a wry smile as he set out to explore the house. He’d contracted a practical marriage, with a practical, no-nonsense sort of woman. Of course she wasn’t going to have a fit of the vapours because he was leaving her alone to get a fire lit.
* * *
By the time he returned to the kitchen, it was noticeably warmer. And there were plates and bowls and things out on the sides, which had previously been bare.
‘While you were gone I had a good look round the larder, found some tea and made a pot,’ said Mary, pouring some into two cups. ‘There’s no milk to go in it, but we can sweeten it with some sugar.’
‘I didn’t expect you to have to act like a servant,’ he said glumly as he set the lamp on its shelf.
She put the teapot down rather hard.
‘Would you rather sit all night in the gloom, with an empty stomach, and wait for someone else to turn up and wait on you?’
‘No. I didn’t mean that! It’s just—I promised you a life of luxury. And on the first day, you’re already reduced to this.’ He waved his arm round the big, empty kitchen.
‘Oh.’ Her anger dissipated as swiftly as his own ever did. She shot him a rueful glance as she dumped two full spoons of sugar into both cups. ‘I don’t mind, you know. It’s the biggest house I’ve ever had to call my own. And I’m sure, come the morning, you will be able to find out what has become of the couple who should be taking care of the place. The state of the larder leads me to believe they have not been away all that long.’
‘It looks as though there’s been a horse in the stables very recently, too,’ he said, taking a seat at the table next to the place settings he noted she’d laid. Then he picked up his cup and braced himself to swallow the sickly concoction without grimacing. She’d been looking through the larder and preparing a meal, when she could have been sitting in front of the fire sulking. Her temper was frayed—the way she’d slammed down the teapot and ladled sugar into his drink without asking whether he liked it or not told him that much. So he’d be an ungrateful oaf to provoke her again, by complaining about such a small thing, when she was clearly doing her utmost to make the best of things.
‘Though no sign of any of my own. Nor my groom,’ he finished gloomily. Dammit, where was everyone?
‘Well,
