Page 45 of Truly, Madly, Daring

“You’re being daft again. Whyever would I mind? How you manage everything is a wonder. Truly, Wrexham, I’m so impressed at how adept you’ve become in such a short time, and no, I am not flattering you, so don’t even think about suggesting it.”

She darted a glance at him to see a fond expression on his face, and occupied herself at once with cutting up the gammon for him before she got herself in a silly state and ravished him on the spot.

They arrived at Cawston Hall long after dark, which was a disappointment to Emmeline as she longed to see it in the daylight.

“Tell me about it?” she asked, as the carriage turned onto what she had been told was an impressive driveway that ran for miles up to the house.

“Cawston Hall is mentioned in the Doomsday book,” he said with evident pride. “Though the original house was torn down and rebuilt at the beginning of the seventeenth century. It is one of the finest examples of a Jacobean mansion in the country.”

“His lordship has extensively modernised the property though, my lady,” Humboldt said, and Emmeline noted the satisfaction the man took in telling her this. He, too, was proud of Wrexham and of all he’d achieved. Bearing in mind how difficult her husband could be to work for, that spoke volumes about the man he was at heart. “When Cawston Hall became his, he was only sixteen, but at once set about rebuilding the west wing, which was in a poor state of repair. He installed a new kitchen and laundry room, a brewhouse and game larders. His lordship also modernised much of the main house as well as building a new dairy and—”

“Thank you, Humboldt,” Wrexham said wryly. “I already apologised for my bad behaviour, there’s no need to make me feel worse by pouring the butter boat over me.”

“My lord!” Humboldt said, indignant at the suggestion.

“Oh, Mr Humboldt,” Emmeline hurried to interject. “Please, pay him no mind. Lord Wrexham is teasing you, I’m afraid. I have discovered he finds compliments hard to bear and so makes a fuss rather than accept them.”

“Ah, you have me all figured out, pet,” Wrexham said, a quirk to his lips that boded ill, but Emmeline ignored it and gave a little sniff, putting up her chin.

“Indeed, I have.”

“We’ll see,” he said, laughing softly.

Emmeline did not spare him a second glance though, for dark it may be, but the staff had been informed of the return of their master and his new wife. Cawston Hall was lit up in the darkness, golden light blazing from its many windows. The magnificent red brick building glowed in the light of the many torches that illuminated the driveway and the front of the house, where a daunting number of servants gathered to receive them.

“When were you last here, Wrexham?” Emmeline asked them as the carriage slowed.

“Two years ago. I convalesced here after the fall, hoping I’d get better. When I didn’t, I went abroad to seek treatment, but everyone told me the same thing. Amaurosis. No cure, nothing to be done. When I returned, my father asked to see me. Fool that I was, I went.”

“And he didn’t let you leave again?”

Wrexham’s face darkened, his expression harsh in the lamplight. “No. He banished my staff, all except Humboldt, and I was entirely isolated. If not for my aunt and sister, I might be there still. They helped me escape him. We feared if I returned here at once, he’d come for me, so I stayed in a hotel for a while, and then with Aunt Lucy for Christmas, where I was fortunate enough to meet you again.”

The carriage door opened then, a footman setting the steps in place for them, and Emmeline did not have the chance to answer, which was likely for the best. If ever the duke crossed her path, she was going to have a few choice words for him. Instead, she climbed out and was immediately engulfed in an excess of feminine flounces and bows.

“Oh! I’m so happy to meet you at last!”

Emmeline staggered back, looking into wide, expressive eyes the same indigo blue as her husband’s. Indeed, she was so very like him there was only one explanation.

“Lady Cordelia,” Emmeline said, smiling warmly at her. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance.”

“Oh, call me Delia, everyone does,” the young woman said, grinning at her, the expression so like Wrexham’s that Emmeline felt at once at home in her company.

“I should be glad to,” Emmeline replied.

“And you are Rex’s Miss Milly,” Delia said, almost bouncing upon the spot. “Oh, you have no idea how I have prayed for a woman like you to find him, for he is the very best of brothers. Well, except for when he’s being exceedingly aggravating,” she added, flashing a smile which dimpled her cheeks.

Emmeline laughed, enchanted by her. She was a beautiful woman, no more than twenty years old. Her hair was a darker gold than Rex’s and she was petite and curvaceous, and clearly a bundle of energy.

“We shall be a merry party now, for Aunt Lucy is here too. Between us, we shall heave to, repel boarders, and give no quarter to keep Rex out of trouble,” she declared stoutly.

“Delia, for heaven’s sake, take a breath. My poor wife has enough to cope with dealing with me. She doesn’t need a lunatic sister to contend with too. She does not need to know of your peculiar fascination for pirates at this early stage.”

“Rex!” Delia said, running to hug her big brother tightly, apparently not the least bit offended by his remarks. “I’ve been so worried. Oh, you cannot know. Father confronted me and went on and on, trying to discover what I knew. It was awful. You know how he gets, but I didn’t tell him anything. Not a word.”

Wrexham hugged his sister back, his expression fond. “You did me proud. I’m so grateful, and so sorry you had to endure it.”

Delia blushed, smiling at him. “That’s all right. Anything for you, Rex, though I’d rather not have to do it again, if it’s all the same to you.”