in her legs was getting worse. She wanted to turn and run back down the stairs and all the way to the train station. She looked down at the baby and finished climbing the stairs. Pewter wall sconces lit a long hallway.
“That is my bedroom.”
She glanced at the closed door and continued walking, turned right into a connecting hall, her heart pounding.
“That door straight ahead opens into your bedroom. This smaller room on the left is for the baby. A dressing room joins them.”
He opened the door and she stepped into the baby’s room, stopped and stared. “It’s beautiful!”
“I tried to prepare as best I could for the infant. I take it from your surprise you were expecting...less.” He frowned and set the baby’s valise down on the floor.
“I wasn’t expecting anything, Mr. Warren.” She squared her shoulders as best she could and looked at him. “I’ve only been responsible for this baby since this morning.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “You’re right. I apologize, Katherine. Please excuse my foolish remark. This unexpected turn of what was already an odd situation has taken me by surprise, as well. Now, if you will excuse me, Ah Key is waiting. Please make yourself comfortable. Should you need anything for the baby before my return, I have a store of supplies for him in the kitchen.” He stepped back into the hall and closed the door.
She took a deep, calming breath and looked around. There was a shuttered window with a lit oil lamp on the stand beneath it in the center of the outside wall. Shelves hung on the wall to the window’s left, a painted chest beneath them. There was a small heating stove and a large wardrobe at one end, and a wood rocker with a pad on its seat, and a wood and wicker crib at the other. An oval, fringed rug covered most of the polished wood floor.
Mr. Warren had, indeed, prepared for Miss Howard’s baby. Her chest constricted. Thankfully, she had accepted his strange offer of marriage. If she hadn’t, according to Mr. Warren, this house and all that he had done to give the baby comfort would have been lost. The thought gave her pause—and further purpose. She would have to be very careful not to betray the truth of their in-name-only marriage to the townspeople. Mr. Warren—no, Trace—must have a chance to save this lovely home and his apothecary shop. And for the baby’s sake, she would do all she could to help him.
The quivering in her legs had stopped. She carried the baby to the crib and tucked him beneath the blue-and-white woven coverlet, rubbed her tired arms while she waited to make sure he stayed asleep. It was odd how empty her arms felt without him. He gave a little wiggle, and his tiny lips moved in and out, making those small sucking sounds.
She smiled, walked over and picked up the valise. The used bottles had to be cleaned. And the soiled diapers she had wrapped in a blanket had to be washed. What should she do with them?
He had mentioned a dressing room. Where... She pursed her lips and looked around. If her bedroom was at the end of the hall, then the dressing room had to be through that door close to where the crib sat. She tiptoed to the door and opened it.
“Oh, my...” Her gaze darted from one object to another outlined by the moonlight flowing through the window in the long wall of the triangular room. There was a bathing tub with two spigots attached at the end, a washstand—again with two spigots attached—and one of those flush-down water closets. A small table sat beside the window.
She jerked around at a bump from the other side of the wall behind her. That would be where her bedroom was located. She put the valise on the table, moved to the connecting door and looked in. Trace Warren was standing on the far side of a large bedroom with one of her trunks at his feet. He glanced her way.
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted your trunks here in the bedroom, or in the closet.”
“The closet?”
“Through here.” He opened the door beside him, lifted an oil lamp from a table and held it high. “Why don’t you look and then tell me where you want this.”
“All right.” She slid her palms down the sides of her coat and crossed the bedroom, the short train of her gown whispering against the Oriental carpet that covered the center of the floor. The golden lamplight spilled over shelves lining a short wall and made long shadows of pegs driven into a board that ran at shoulder height along the other two walls of a roomy triangular closet. She’d never seen anything like it. “In here, please.”
He set the lamp on a shelf and grasped the handles on the ends of the trunk, letting out a grunt when he lifted it. He placed it against the wall under the window and straightened. “I’ll be right back with your other trunks.”
“Before you go...”
He stopped and looked at her.
“I was wondering if there is a washroom? The baby has several soiled diapers and only a few clean ones. I need to—” She stopped at the shake of his head.
“You do not need to do any laundry, Katherine. Simply rinse the waste off the diaper into the water closet in your dressing room and flush it down. There is a bucket with a lid sitting beside a wicker basket under the table. Put the rinsed, soiled diaper in the covered bucket, and the baby’s clothes with yours in the basket. A Chinese man and his wife have a laundry at the edge of the woods. They will take yours and the baby’s clothes with them when they come for my laundry.” He moved toward the door then glanced over his shoulder at her. “Should you need them, there are diapers in the baby’s wardrobe.”
“I also need to clean the baby’s bottles and prepare one for when he next wakes.”
He turned back to face her. “You told me you were inexperienced at caring for an infant. Do you rinse the bottles and other parts in boiling water?”
She stared at him. He had a quiet, authoritative way of speaking that made her trust him. “No. Miss Howard said only that the baby’s food must be boiled.”
“I see.” He frowned and scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “When I have brought up your other trunks, we will go to the kitchen, and I will show you how to clean and prepare the baby’s bottles.”
He would show her? It must be that an apothecary knew about such things. She removed her coat and hat, hung them on a peg and followed him back into the bedroom. It was larger and more richly furnished than hers had been at home. Clearly, she had made the right decision in entering the strange, in-name-only marriage to save this home and Mr. Warren’s apothecary shop. The baby would be well cared for. And she would enjoy every modern comfort while waiting for Trace Warren to find another woman to take her place.
A temporary stand-in bride! Whoever had heard of such a thing? Judith would be highly amused when she wrote her about this absurd situation. Her sister always found the funny, sunny side of a situation. Unfortunately, she herself had inherited their mother’s more serious nature. She sighed and hurried to the dressing room to take care of those soiled diapers before Mr. Warren returned.
* * *
The whispering rustle of Katherine’s travel outfit was wearing on his nerves. He hadn’t heard the soft sounds of a woman moving about since—Trace closed off the memory, frowned and returned to the stove to put a little distance between him and the woman he’d married. “When the baby wakes and wants feeding, you have only to take one of the prepared bottles from the refrigerator, place it in warm water and heat it to a comfortable temperature.”
