Page 101 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

‘The green room is also made up, my Lord, should you need it,’ Miss Stick spoke with the practised discretion of a valued servant, making no assumptions, just letting him know the options available.

‘Thank you, Miss Stick.’

‘Do you need anything, my Lord? My Lady?’

‘No, thank you,’ he said, watching as the housekeeper turned to his wife. He was amazed to see her normally stern expression soften a little as Lady Westcroft smiled at her.

‘No, thank you, Miss Stick. You have been wonderful as usual.’

The housekeeper’s lips twitched, and he was surprised to realise she was almost smiling. Then she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

For a long moment there was nothing but silence between them. The woman in front of him was a stranger, and he could see how invasive it was to have him climb half-naked into her bed. Yet he felt a flicker of irritation along with the regret at not checking the room was empty.

‘It is late, Lord Westcroft,’ she said, quietly but firmly. She was dressed in a cotton nightgown, and although it was not made of the most substantial material, it had a high neck and long sleeves that covered her modesty, yet she wrapped her arms about her in a way that made him realise she felt uncomfortable. He glanced down at his bare chest and hastily reached for his shirt, discarded on the chair.

‘I will leave you to sleep, Lady Westcroft,’ he said, gathering the rest of his clothes. ‘My apologies again.’ It felt strange to be leaving his bedroom, yet he would not think of throwing her out in the middle of the night. Instead he made a hasty retreat, closing the door on the stranger who was his wife.

Chapter Eight

Alice clasped her hands together to stop them from shaking as she paused outside the door to the dining room. Breakfast was normally one of her favourite times of the day. She loved taking her time over the first meal of the day, savouring her toast and eggs whilst she sipped on a steaming cup of delicious coffee. Miss Stick always ensured there was a newspaper ready and available for her to read, alternating between the more serious publications, which ensured she was informed about political and worldly matters, and the gossip sheets that meant she was never behind when it came to the intrigue of the ton. Since moving to London eight months previously, she had followed the same routine. Coffee, breakfast and half an hour with the newspaper before she was ready to face the day. It had been peaceful, but now her peace was shattered.

Straightening her back and lifting her chin, she pushed open the door and walked into the room, clenching her jaw as she saw Lord Westcroft was sitting in her favourite seat. It was the one at the head of the table, traditionally the master of the house’s spot, but Alice had lived this past year with no husband and no master, and when she had decided to move her breakfast spot to the head of the table, there had been no one to object. That place was set in front of the large window and caught the best of the morning light.

Telling herself not to be so petty she forced a smile onto her face as Lord Westcroft looked up. He was holding her newspaper, the pages slightly crumpled in his hands.

‘Good morning, Lady Westcroft. I hope you managed to sleep again after I disturbed you last night. My apologies again.’

‘I did, thank you,’ she lied. For hours she had lain in bed wondering what this sudden, unexpected return meant for her. Lord Westcroft hadn’t deceived her when he had offered her marriage. He had been clear that he would not be there by her side as her husband, but she had not expected his departure to be so sudden, or so complete. One day after their wedding, he had left. Alice had known he had made plans to sail to the Continent but she had assumed he would escort her to her new home first, perhaps introduce her to the servants, be there as she got to know his mother and sister-in-law. A week, perhaps two—it wouldn’t have needed long, but instead he had left without doing any of that. He had also made it clear his journey was one way and that she should not expect him back.

She took a seat at the dining table, looking up when Miss Stick came into the room, a frown on her face when she saw Lord Westcroft sitting in Alice’s accustomed place, reading her newspaper. Alice felt a rush of warmth for the housekeeper. She had been terrified of her when she had first arrived in London and almost made the decision to flee back to Northumberland, but slowly she had won the housekeeper round, making an ally out of the older woman.

‘Good morning, Lady Westcroft. I will tell Cook to make you a fresh cup of coffee and get started on your eggs. Is there anything else you need this morning?’

‘No, thank you, Miss Stick. Join me in the drawing room after breakfast, and we can discuss the meals for the week.’

Miss Stick inclined her head and left the room. Alice felt her husband’s eyes on her and turned to him.

‘If you would be so kind as to inform me of your plans, Lord Westcroft, insofar as planning the meals and social calendar for the week goes, I would appreciate it.’

He looked at her as if she had grown a second head.

‘Social calendar?’ he murmured.

She held up a hand and counted off on her fingers, ‘I have a number of events planned this week. Afternoon tea with the London Ladies’ Benevolent Society, dinner parties with the Hampshires and the Dunns, and a fundraising event at the end of the week. It would be helpful to know if you will be here or not.’

‘You live here?’ he asked, puzzlement on his face.

‘Yes,’ she said, slowly.

‘In London?’

‘Yes.’

‘In this house?’

‘Where would you prefer I live, my Lord?’

He rallied, and she silently chided herself for her frosty tone, but the situation was impossible. She had made a life for herself here. It had been far from easy, and it had taken months to build the social circle she had now, but it had been worth it. Now that Lord Westcroft was back, his purpose as yet undeclared, she felt as though he might suddenly pull it all away from her.