showing him he couldn’t speak to her like that. Only...if she launched into that kind of speech right now, wouldn’t she look a bit shrewish?
‘Looks as though my wife has cooked enough to feed an army,’ he said. Cheerfully.
He clearly had no idea what he’d done to her.
‘And even if you’ve had something at the Dog and Ferret, you should at least have a couple of these rolls,’ he said, putting some on a plate and pushing them over, with what looked suspiciously like...pride. ‘They’re first-rate.’
No, she definitely couldn’t start complaining about the way he’d talked to her when he’d been in a temper, not when he was being so complimentary about her cooking. Lips pressed tightly together, she served both men with eggs and ham, then sank, deflated, on to her own seat.
‘Which leads me to the next question,’ said her husband, in between mouthfuls. ‘What are we going to do until the Brownlows return, my Lady Havelock?’
‘I don’t understand.’
He wasn’t asking her opinion, was he? Men didn’t do that. So what was he about now? And why was he addressing her so formally? When all through the night he’d used her given name. Over and over again.
Mary, he’d whispered into her ear.
Mary... he’d growled.
Oh, Mary... he’d moaned.
Oh, it was all so confusing. He was confusing!
‘Well,’ he said very slowly, as though explaining to a child, ‘we could go and rack up at the Dog and Ferret. We’ll have plenty of food and a proper bed.’
‘If’n you don’t mind damp sheets and bedbugs,’ muttered Gilbey.
‘It doesn’t sound very...appealing,’ Mary agreed.
‘Trouble is,’ said her husband, ‘the only alternative is to remain here. And you’ve already discovered how uncomfortable this place is, too, without servants.’
He laid down his knife and fork, and gave her a straight look.
Both her husband and groom were watching her intently, she realised after a moment or two.
Heavens, they really were waiting to hear what she thought. Her husband hadn’t just told her what the choices were, before telling her what he was going to do. He really was going to let her decide. Well, she’d wanted the chance to take a stand. And though it wasn’t exactly the topic she’d wanted to confront him about, it was better than nothing.
‘This is my home now,’ she therefore stated firmly. ‘I would much rather stay here and try to make the place a bit more comfortable, than throw myself on the mercy of a landlord who sounds as though he doesn’t care about the welfare of his guests one bit.’
‘Capital,’ he said, beaming at her as though she’d just said the very thing he was waiting to hear. ‘I didn’t really want you to have to put up with the rabble that frequent the Dog and Ferret. No offence to you, Gilbey.’
‘None taken. I’ve got no wish to go back there meself,’ he said, scratching his neck. ‘There’s the makings of decent quarters over the stables. Just want a bit of sorting, like.’
‘It’s the same with this house, I’m sure,’ said Mary.
Lord Havelock frowned. ‘But you are going to have to do it single-handed. Da—dash it, this isn’t the Christmas I’d planned to give you,’ he said, slamming his half-emptied cup down on to the table. ‘But I will make it up to you, I swear. I’ll tell you what I’ll do,’ he said, his face brightening. ‘I’ll go into the village and see if I can purchase the makings of Christmas dinner.’
‘That’s a very...’ she’d been going to say, a good idea. But he’d already reached the back door and was striding out into the yard.
‘That’s his lordship all over,’ said the groom, eyeing her astonishment with amusement. ‘Get’s a notion in his cockloft and don’t stop to consider if it’s even possible, never mind sensible.’
‘R-really?’ She hadn’t known him long, but, yes, she could well believe that he was the type of man to act on impulse, rather than planning anything in great detail. He was so full of energy. And with the kind of confidence that came from being both wealthy and having a secure position in society. Yes, he could very easily set off into the unknown, assuming that everything would work out well for him.
Except when it had come to marriage. When he’d contemplated marriage, he’d sat down with a group of friends and got them to help him plan it all out down to the last detail.
Which only went to show how hard it must have been for a man who was used to doing as he pleased, whenever he pleased, to shackle himself to just one woman.
She supposed she ought to look upon his making of that list as a symptom of his determination to get it right. She’d seen several examples of that determination. That drive to do his best. Though it still hurt to read herself, the wife, described in such terms.
‘I’d best get back to the stables, if you will excuse me,’ said Gilbey, getting to his feet. ‘Unless there’s anything you want helping with, in the way of heavy work?’
‘That’s very good of you, but I won’t know until I’ve taken a good look about the place, to see what wants doing.’
‘Ah, you’re just what his lordship needs,’ observed the groom with a knowing air. ‘Sensible. And calm. Begging yer pardon for speaking so free, but...’ He twisted his hat between his rather grubby fingers. ‘You oughtn’t to listen to those who will tell you he’s wild. Or worry about his temper,’ he said knowingly.
‘I don’t,’ she replied firmly. She hadn’t been afraid of him since...since...
Actually, she hadn’t ever been really afraid of him. Nervous, yes, of the pull he exerted over her. Scared of her reactions to him. But of him, not really ever.
‘Sure, he’s fought his duels,’ Gilbey added. ‘But he’s a good lad, at heart.’
‘Duels? He’s fought duels?’
‘He didn’t mean no harm by them,’ hastily put in the groom. ‘It’s just, he ain’t never had nobody, not since his mother passed, to care what he did, one way or another, y’see. ’Twill make all the difference to him, to have someone steady, to be his...well, his anchor, like,’ he finished gruffly, before slapping the hat on his head and scuttling off out of the door.
She reached for her cup of tea and took a long, sustaining drink. Now that the initial shock had worn off, she could see exactly how her husband could have stumbled into fighting a duel or two. Not only did he have a hair-trigger temper, but he also had a highly developed sense of his own honour. Only look at the way he’d reacted when she’d assumed he’d been making her an insulting proposition.
He’d calmed down as soon as she’d explained herself, though. Which only went to prove that whoever he’d fought hadn’t attempted to apologise. So if he had shot them, it was entirely their own fault.
He was good at heart,
