Page 39 of The Mister I Married

“No, no,” Alex said hastily. “Never that. When these bouts of melancholy do crop up, he usually confines himself to his room to rest, but sometimes he…wanders. And I did not want you to be alarmed if you should come upon him during one of these episodes.”

Emmy nodded, her curiosity to meet Mr. Whitcomb flaring anew, even as her chest ached for him, this man whose wife had left him with a thoroughly broken heart.

“Thank you for warning me,” she said.

Alex smiled and squeezed her hand, his lips parting as if he meant to say more, just as an unfamiliar voice called out into the courtyard.

“Tessa-girl! You’re home!”

Emmy turned as an older gentleman with slate gray hair and stooped shoulders emerged from the house, arms outstretched, a beaming smile on his kindly, weathered face.

“Father!” Tess cried, launching herself at the man, and the two laughed joyfully, as if they hadn’t seen each other in years instead of weeks.

Emmy smiled as she watched them, her gaze taking in the man who was now her father-in-law. Like Alex, he was tall and broad, but with an air of frailty about him, not of body but of spirit.

Alex proffered his arm and Emmy took it, walking with him across the courtyard towards his father and sister.

Mr. Whitcomb’s brown eyes, when they met hers, were curious and gentle.

“And who is this, Alex?” he said, holding his hand out to Emmy. “Is this lovely girl your new bride?”

“She is, sir. This is Lady Emmaline. Emmy.”

Smiling warmly, she bobbed a curtsy. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Whitcomb.”

The gentleman took Emmy’s hands in his, and said gruffly, “The pleasure is all mine, my dear. Welcome to Bristlewood.”

His eyes glistened with emotion, and Emmy’s chest grew tight, as if bearing the weight of his expectations. His hopes. It was too much, and she wanted to run.

“Shall we all go inside?” Alex said gently, laying a hand on his father’s shoulder.

“Right. Yes, of course,” Mr. Whitcomb said before turning for the door. “Shall we, Tessa-girl?”

Tess slipped her hand around her father’s proffered elbow and the two headed for the house. Breathing a discreet sigh of relief, Emmy followed them into the entrance hall with Alex right behind her.

She had all of three seconds to take in the cavernous hall before two hairy, four-legged creatures burst in, their nails clacking on the marble floor, tongues and tails announcing their excitement.

“Who is this?” Emmy asked, bending down to greet the larger deerhound. Her question was met with a flurry of wet kisses on her face, and she laughed, scratching the dog’s velvety ears.

“That is Prescott,” Alex said with an affectionate smile. “And this is his sister, Gracie.”

Emmy reached a hand out, but Gracie shied away, eyeing her for a moment before tentatively sniffing her palm.

“Good day to you, Gracie,” she said softly.

Gracie gave her palm a single swipe of her tongue before plopping on her haunches, apparently satisfied the threat was over.

“I suppose that means I passed muster,” Emmy said, rising to her feet.

“I knew they’d adore you,” Alex said as he gave each hound a pat on the head.

“Can we take Emmy on a tour of the house now?” Tess asked. “I cannot wait to show her the solarium.”

“You’ve only just arrived, my dear,” Mr. Whitcomb said. “I think your brother’s new bride would appreciate a few minutes to freshen up after your journey.”

“I would, rather,” Emmy admitted. “And a cup of tea would be much appreciated, too.”

“Of course,” Alex said. “Tess will have a tray brought to your bedchamber, and I will show you the way there now. Come with me.”