Page 120 of The Language of Love

“Goodness,” she whispered as they entered another world. Instead of frigid stone and slitted windows, the broad corridor was filled with warm wainscotting and carpeted wooden floors.

Although the carpet was threadbare and the silk hangings on the wall dulled by age, everything was polished, meticulously clean, and smelled of beeswax and turpentine.

Mrs. Jenkins stopped beside a door and turned to Henry, a notch of apprehension between her brown eyes. “The master and mistress’s chambers have not been occupied since your uncle’s death and are somewhat, er, old-fashioned, but I thought you would wish for them as both suites are the most spacious and afford the best views.”

“My cousin and his wife didn’t occupy the rooms?” Henry asked.

“No, my lord. They kept their original rooms.”

Henry’s eyebrows shot up at that.

Mrs. Jenkins opened the door and Annis felt as if she’d stepped back in time.

The chambers were undoubtedly feminine, decorated in deep rose and antique gold, both colors from a more opulent age. The bed was a baroque monstrosity covered in rose velvet with a gold satin canopy suspended from a ceiling, complete with clouds, cherubs, and angels. The floors were a beautiful, burnished wood layered with carpets composed of rose, cream, and gold.

And every single stick of furniture in the room had been lavished with gilt.

She stared up at the ceiling, her mouth opened.

“A room fit for a queen,” Henry said beside her, his voice heavy with amusement.

Annis gave a breathless laugh.

“The dressing rooms connect your rooms with his lordship’s.” Mrs. Jenkins led Annis and Henry through a capacious dressing room toward a white and gilt door.

On the other side was the masculine counterpart to Annis’s chambers, complete with velvet and gilt, but in blood red.

The door opened, and a very young maid entered.

“Ah, here is your hot water. Put it on the dresser, Agnes,” Mrs. Jenkins directed before turning to Henry. “Will there be anything else, my lord?”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Jenkins,” Henry said. “I’m sure preparing these rooms in the brief time you had was a challenge. Everything looks meticulously clean and comfortable.”

The housekeeper blushed at his praise and then curtsied before soundlessly leaving the room.

Henry turned to Annis, a rueful expression on his face. “It is a bit—” he broke off, shrugged, and chuckled.

“Yes, it is a bit,” she agreed wryly.

“Perhaps these two rooms might be the first ones that will require your attention.”

Annis quailed at the thought of redecorating such magnificent rooms—or such a magnificent house; she’d never had enough money to decorate so much as a cupboard before.

The door to Henry’s room opened and his new valet, Norwich, entered, bearing a large valise.

Annis turned to Henry. “I suppose I’d better get ready.”

Henry opened the door for her. “I shall knock for you in half an hour, if that is agreeable?”

“Yes, thank you.”

The door closed and Annis took a deep breath and exhaled, struggling to calm the thumping in her chest at the thought of the challenge that faced her.

Well, there was no point in worrying about it. All she had to do now was freshen up.

And drink tea with your new husband’s family. Whom he appears to hate.

Annis grimaced and shoved aside the thought.