Page 47 of His Bluestocking Bride

His eyes lit up. “With jam?”

“Yes. Lots of jam.” Her heart warmed as he grinned and put his hand in hers. Children were a wonder, allowing such small things as toast and jam to light up their faces so brightly.

The servants were already awake and going about their duties, preparing food for the day, cleaning and polishing boots and flatware. There were eight of them in the kitchen, and Mr. Henry the coachman was one of them, eating a bowl of hot cereal.

“Good morning,” Ellen sang into the room, trying to put on her most confident smile.

A chorus of good mornings met her ear as the servants hastily stood.

“Please, sit down and take no thought for me. I brought Master Arthur down to see about some toast and jam. He woke with a terrible hunger.”

All eyes went to Arthur, who beamed at them without shame.

It became apparent, very quickly, just how much the staff loved the sweet child.

Mrs. Lawless, the cook, began preparing toast and sent the kitchen maid to fetch “Master Arthur’s favorite strawberry jam” from the pantry. The single footman gave Arthur the seat of honor at the head of the table and pulled out a chair for Ellen almost as an afterthought. In their bustling about to attend to the child, Ellen could lean across the table to speak to her coachman.

“Good morning, Mr. Henry. I was wondering when you thought we might attempt to return to Orchard Hill. Are the roads passable?”

He shook his head over his bowl of oats and sighed. “Not at present. The sun may help our cause as the day goes on, and other people using the road for horses, but I’ve no hope as yet. I’ll check again, after the noon hour, to see if progress has been made upon it.”

Though the news disappointed her, Ellen smiled and nodded at the man. “Thank you, Mr. Henry.” She turned her attention back to Arthur as the cook placed a plate in front of her, piled with breakfast rolls, a rasher of bacon, and jam.

“Might as well feed both of you at once,” Mrs. Lawless said with a cheery smile. “Would you like some tea or chocolate, Mrs. Calvert?”

“Chocolate, please.” The dark, bitter drink was not highly favored in society, but with a dollop of cream and sugar, Ellen quite enjoyed it.

Soon enough, Arthur was licking the crumbs from his fingers, and Ellen thought it would be best to take him back to the nursery. She rose with that intention when a sharp knock sounded on the kitchen door.

“Who could that be?” Mrs. Lawless asked. The footman went and opened the door, revealing a man in a tall hat, thick coat, with scarves wrapped about his throat. From his bearing and the clothes he wore, anyone could tell he was a gentleman of means.

From the dancing brown eyes and the tilt of his head, Ellen recognized her husband.

She forgot herself in her surprise and gasped out his name. “Marcus.”

He already looked at her, having spotted her before even setting foot in the door. He came inside, amid bows and curtsies. Ellen felt sorry for the servants, having their work interrupted by people who had no right to be in their domain.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered, looking up from her chair, too stunned to move. “How did you get through?”

Everyone in the room remained still, except the footman who was wise enough to at least shut the kitchen door before enjoying the spectacle before him.

“I rode my horse,” he answered with a shrug, his voice muffled by his scarf. He groaned and reached up to tug the woven cloth down from his face, revealing a broad smile to match the twinkle in his eyes. “I came to fetch you home.”

The kitchen maid chose that moment to sigh in a manner that Ellen wished she could allow herself, but that sound brought her back to where she was and she hastily stood.

“We had better return Arthur to his nurse.” She scooped up the boy and hurried from the room, not daring to look over her shoulder. Her cheeks felt as though they were on fire.

The maid sighed because she thought Marcus’s actions dashing and romantic. But Ellen, who knew him better, could not understand his sudden rescue, even though she felt thankful for it.

The sound of his boots behind her did nothing to ease her rapid pulse. Did he intend to follow her all the way up to the nursery?

Ellen stopped and turned, Arthur on her hip. “You ought to wait in the parlor. I will be there directly.” Her eyes took him in, his grin still in place, the freckles across his cheeks lending to his charm.

Marcus nodded, but remained standing there, looking down at her. “Whatever you wish, Ellen.”

Her heart skipped a beat. His manner of speaking her name sounded tender, though she much have imagined it. Ellen swallowed, gave him one sharp nod, and hurried to the staircase. Arthur didn’t protest being returned to the nursery, especially since he had a small breakfast to tide him over. Ellen shut the door behind him and stood in the dark hall, trying to catch her breath.

Why would Marcus go to so much trouble for her? Had he missed her?