Page 65 of The Marquess of Secrets

“Who?” Lydia asked.

“His Irish wolfhounds. Part of the family to be sure,” Harrison replied, giving her a wink.

“How wonderful,” Lydia said. “I’ve read they’re gentle, a perfect breed to have with children.”

Spence gave Lydia one of his rare warm smiles. Lydia treated his brother with respect and was not taken aback by Spence’s detached air. It made Harrison love her all the more.

Once they arrived, they were greeted by an attractive, red-haired, middle-aged lady. She held out her hand.

“Welcome! My name is Megan Hughes-Wollstonecraft Eaton. Quite the mouthful, isn’t it? You must be Lydia Chesterton.”

Lydia shook her hand. “And this is the Marquess of Tennington and his brother, Professor Hornsby.”

After the introductions, Mrs. Eaton slipped her arm through Lydia’s.

“I am eager to show you all about the place. This home has been a particular project of mine since I was fifteen. We have expanded. There are two more homes similar to this one, in Somerset and Dover. If this location doesn’t suit, I’m sure we can place you at one of the others.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Lydia murmured.

“The marquess stated you’ve had a bad run of late. If someday you wish to tell me the particulars, I am a good listener. A celebrated nurse from St. Thomas’s Hospital in London? We would be pleased to have you,”

Mrs. Eaton smiled warmly. “For as long or as short of a period as you like.”

They entered the front hall, and Harrison was struck at the brightness, the large windows, and the cleanliness. Vases of wildflowers adorned every desk and table, giving the atmosphere a pleasant early summer look and smell.

Though the place was named the “Hornsby and Wollstonecraft Residential Home,” he had not been here since the opening when he was a child—though he gave a stipend every year to the cause. His mother, in particular, often visited and kept the family informed of any developments and improvements and how their monetary contributions were put to good use.

“Not all of our staff lives on the premises, so there are a few rooms vacant. Here is the one I thought you would like.” Mrs. Eaton stepped aside to allow Lydia to enter.

“Better than asylums,” Spencer interjected as he glanced about his surroundings.

To think doctors recommended Spencer be sent to one. Thank God his father had the foresight to refuse.

“Much better indeed, my lord,” Mrs. Eaton replied. “Our patients are treated humanely, with respect and care specific to each individual case.”

Harrison had to admit the room was a good size. It had a small fireplace, a round table and two chairs in the corner, an armchair by the fire, and a large bed with an accompanying dresser and wardrobe. Paintings of ocean waves adorned the wall, which was decorated in a light sand shade.

“In the rear is a water closet, basin, and small tub. We have modern plumbing. Behind that is a small storage area for your personal use. Three doors down is the staff kitchen, a place you can heat water for a cup of tea, make a sandwich, and the like, outside of the full meals served in the dining room. Would you like to look around?”

Mrs. Eaton walked over to the window and pulled the curtains aside. It was a glass door leading out into a garden area.

“Oh, how beautiful,” Lydia gasped.

“Why not take a stroll about the flowers and shrubs while I take the marquess and the professor to the office? Then we will continue with the tour.”

“Thank you, I would like that very much.”

Harrison’s heart stuttered in his chest. Lydia liked this place, he could tell. It was a serene environment for her to continue to recover. And be about her nursing career once again. Harrison took one last look at her as he headed into the hallway.

There was no doubt of it.

He loved her more than life itself.

All he wanted was for her to get well. Regain her sense of worth.

And, maybe someday, love him return.

* * *