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Then, she’d gone to Scotland. For six bloody weeks.
And, God, he’d missed her like a soldier would miss his sword hand.
Now, his heart kicked as he watched her sink onto the settee. His tidy, clumsy, clever little secretary.
No. Not his secretary. His wife.
He swallowed, struggling to ignore the hot, expansive pressure in his chest. “I shall fetch the rest of our belongings,” he said, starting toward the door. “There are blankets in the bedchamber. You should remove your gown.”
Startled eyes flew up to his. Red invaded pale cheeks. “I beg your pardon.”
Instead of answering, he returned outside to retrieve her trunk, his valise, the basket of food the old woman had given him, and the swan chest. Finally, he instructed the driver to return for them the following morning. The blizzard showed no signs of letting up.
By the time he entered the cottage again, Euphemia was busying herself in the kitchen.
He frowned, setting the food basket on the table. “What are you doing?”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Making tea.”
“You must remove your wet clothing. Your trunk is by the bed.”
She hung the kettle above the fire she’d lit and moved to the sideboard to search through tins.
“Euphemia.”
She stilled.
He rubbed his nape. “Look, I know this is all a bit sudden.”
A tiny snort. “Hmm. A bit, yes.”
“And perhaps I was highhanded in my demands during the ceremony.”
This time, she chuckled full-on.“Perhaps?”
“What was the alternative? You’d be ruined if we hadn’t married.”
“You might have allowed me to wed Mr. Gibbs.”
His gut hardened at the thought. “Absolutely not.”
“Or, I might have remained unwed and ignored the gossip, as I’ve been doing for three years.” She located the tin she’d been searching for and began arranging two teacups alongside a teapot on a wooden tray.
“Traveling alone with Gibbs invites more than gossip. Ladies are pressed into marriage for far less egregious offenses.” He moved to her side, crossing his arms and leaning back against the sideboard while he watched her prepare tea. She smelled like rosewater and softness. As always, her nearness comforted him. “What were you thinking?”
“Perhaps that I had a task to complete. Mr. Gibbs seemed harmless enough.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, “Harmless. Good God.”
“And I’d done a great deal of traveling alone with a man previously.”
“That’s different. I’m your employer.”
She put the lid on the tea tin and stretched to place it on the shelf. He plucked it from her hand and slid it into place. Far from grateful, she nudged her spectacles and glared her annoyance. “Adistinctionmost do not acknowledge, I assure you. That’s been made quite clear to me on several occasions.”
“By whom?”
She’d rolled his coat sleeves up above her dainty wrists, and now she made a show of tidying them. “Men, largely.”
