That evening at dinner Mary took a bite of the soup, new pea with just a hint of mint. The freshness practically burst in her mouth. “Give Cook my compliments, Simons.”
The knowledge that once she left she would never see Rose Hill again had dogged her all day, and it hit her particularly hard at thatmoment. The soup turned to ash in her mouth, but she forced herself to eat it and a few bites of each remaining course as she smiled and did her best to act as if everything was all right.
After tea had been served in the drawing room, Eunice took Mary’s hand. “Try not to be so down in the mouth, my dear. You must trust all will be well.”
Mary blinked back her tears but couldn’t stop her voice from wavering. “Yes, I must continue to believe that.” She set her cup down and rose. “While there is still enough light, let me show you what I’ve done with the garden.”
Once outside, Eunice linked her arm with Mary’s as they strolled on the new gravel paths. “It looks wonderful.”
“Yes. I’m very proud of it.” Mary’s throat closed painfully. “We planted over fifty new rose bushes. I’ve always wanted a rose garden.” She wiped the moisture from her face. She would not cry. “I don’t want to leave.”
“I know, dear.” Eunice touched her head to Mary’s. “Neither do I, but we must look at the bright side. You have not been chased or harassed since we’ve been here, and you’ve improved the property beyond all measure. No one could possibly complain about your residing here for the year.”
Except that it had been based on deception. If she wasn’t to become a watering-pot, it behooved her to think of something else to discuss. “How is the new roof for the church progressing?”
Eunice grinned. “According to Mr. Doust, extremely well. It will be finished before summer.”
Mary slanted a glance at her aunt. She had not asked about a possible understanding Eunice might have with the rector before now. “And you and Mr. Doust?”
“No matter how I feel about him, I’m afraid it cannot be.” Eunice heaved a sigh. “The dear rector would be scandalized by our ruse. Even I cannot come up with a story he would accept. No, I’m afraid I must think of him as a lovely flirtation.” Her lips twisted into a wry smile. “Until we began to make friends here, I did not understand your concerns.”
It was a little late for remorse now. Mary repeated Eunice’s words back to her. “Everything will work out for the best.”
It had to.
CHAPTER FIVE
Kit and his small group of servants had stayed the night in Alnwick and got a late start in the morning. It would not do to arrive at Rose Hill too early. After luncheon should be time enough.
God knew he didn’t want to spend any more time than was necessary under the same roof with the female pretending to be his wife. He’d had a great deal of time over the past week to plan how he would arrive. In the end, he decided to do so in as impressive a way as possible. That ought to convey to the woman that he was serious about recovering his property. All his life he had worked hard to avoid scandal, and he refused to have one touch him or his family now. He would give no quarter. If she would not willingly pack her bags and leave by morning, he’d help her out the door.
He glanced at his pocket watch again. For the past half hour he had been waiting on the outskirts of Rosebury for Piggott to catch up with him. Finally he spied a carriage being led by his father’s coachman. Of all the bad luck. The wheeler had gone lame. At least it wasn’t one of his father’s horses. Since they’d left York, he’d been on his own for cattle. He’d have to get the poor animal looked after. He hoped that Rosebury would have a decent hostelry. He would be damned if Dent had to lead the carriage all the way to Rose Hill.
“Sorry, sir,” Robins, the coachman, said as he approached. “He threw a shoe. Shouldn’t be too bad once we get it fixed.”
“There’s nothing you could have done to prevent it, but time is of the essence. We’ll have to find a replacement.”
After they made their slow way to the center of the town, Kit located the blacksmith, while Dent went off to ask about a stable where he could board the horse and hire another.
Kit stepped into the large stone smithy, peering through the dimlight until he located a figure. “Good day. I have a horse that’s thrown a shoe. Can you help me?”
A large, middle-aged man with coal-black hair materialized from the dark interior. “Aye, gimme time t’finish here.” He retreated back into the darkness, and the next sound was the sizzle of hot iron being put in water. “Passin’ through?”
“Here on business. Name’s Featherton.”
The smith stopped what he was doing and turned. “Be ye the Featherton what owns Rose Hill?”
Kit smiled. “I am.”
The other man scowled. “See here, ya not plannin’ on causin’ trouble for our Lady Mary, are ya?”
Good God, what had that blasted female been doing? He wondered if Mary was even her real name. “Not at all. I’m just making sure she is doing well.”
Not exactly a lie.
“We don’t hold wi’ wife beatin’ here aboots.”
“Why would I want to . . . ? No, of course not. I don’t know who would. Can’t a man visit his wife?”
