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She ran down the corridor and stopped in the doorway of the tower, rendered speechless. Her former prison had been transformed into the prettiest, cosiest room she could ever have imagined, with cream-coloured walls complemented by an assortment of pink-and-white-striped furniture and a dark, dusky rose carpet. Pictures of seascapes adorned the walls and there were bunches of bluebells arranged in vases on every spare surface, as if someone were trying to make the room as homey as possible.
‘What’s that?’
Her eyes fell on a battered and ancient-looking wooden chest beneath one of the windows. It seemed incongruous, out of place with the rest of the furniture and yet familiar somehow. It certainly hadn’t b
een there the last time she’d been in the room. She would have remembered it.
‘I don’t know, ma’am, but Captain Amberton said not to open it without you. Would you like me to help you unpack it now?’
‘No.’ She felt a sudden urge to be alone. ‘That’s enough for now, thank you, Eliza. I’ll manage.’
‘Very good, ma’am.’
She crouched down by the chest, waiting until the sound of Eliza’s footsteps had receded before unfastening the metal clasp, a feeling of anticipation making her feel slightly dizzy. Nervously, she opened the lid, pressing a hand to her mouth as she did so. Sure enough, there they were, all her mother’s old books, just as she remembered them, like a group of long-lost friends. She reached in and picked up the uppermost tome, a copy of Malory’s Arthurian legends, hugging it to her breast and laughing aloud with happiness.
* * *
A few hours later, she looked up from her newfound favourite position, comfortably ensconced in an armchair by the fireplace. Her sitting room was finished. Her mother’s books were arranged in pride of place on her bookshelf, while the chest remained under the window, ornamented with cushions to provide an additional seat. She’d been so engrossed in her books that she’d declined lunch, although Mrs Gargrave had appeared on several occasions bearing a tea tray, tutting loudly each time to find the mistress of the house still clad in her dressing gown.
She didn’t care. She was wearing a pair of spectacles, too, the ones she needed for reading, though she was starting to wish that she’d purchased a new pair on her travels. The tiny metal frames had an irritating habit of sliding down her nose at inopportune moments, making the words in front of her go suddenly blurry, though it was a minor irritation at best. Nothing could spoil her mood today. Everything else was perfect. She’d come to the pleasing conclusion that her husband could lock her up every day if he wanted to.
‘Happy?’
The sound of his voice made her leap out of her chair in surprise, as if her very thoughts had conjured him.
‘Lance!’ She put a hand to her chest. ‘You startled me!’
‘Apologies.’ He grinned from the doorway, the whiteness of his teeth contrasting vividly with the black flecks all over his skin and clothes. He looked even more dishevelled than usual, his hair tousled and windblown, as if he’d just arrived home and come straight to find her. Somehow that idea made him even more attractive.
‘You were smiling.’ He seemed to be studying her intently. ‘I hope that means you’re happy.’
‘Very. I love my new sitting room.’
‘Good.’ His grin spread even further. ‘Do I need permission to enter this private domain?’
She pursed her lips thoughtfully and then relented. ‘I’ll let you off for today, seeing that you found my mother’s books.’ She gestured towards the new window seat. ‘Where was it?’
‘In the attic, as it turned out, though I’m afraid I can’t take the credit. My leg isn’t much use around ladders, but our young friend Daniel was very helpful.’
‘I hope you gave him more than a shilling.’
‘I did and a job, too. He’s down in the kitchens right now.’ He advanced a few steps towards her. ‘You look very studious.’
‘Oh!’ She raised a hand to her head self-consciously. She’d forgotten that she was wearing her spectacles, the ones her father had said made her look even more unattractive. He’d always hated them. No doubt Lance would, too.
‘Don’t take them off.’ He put a hand out to stop her before she could pull them away. ‘They suit you.’
‘They do?’
‘Very much.’ He advanced a few steps into the room. ‘Do you know, I’ve never kissed a woman in glasses before.’
‘Oh.’ It seemed a woefully inadequate answer, but she didn’t know how else to respond.
‘May I?’
‘May you...what?’ Her mouth felt very dry all of a sudden.
‘May I kiss the bride? I didn’t do it properly on our wedding day and you know what they say—the longer you wait to do something, the harder it becomes.’
