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Chapter Thirteen
Henry followed the long length of numbers down to the bottom of the page. The early morning light coming from the office window was plenty bright enough for him to see by. Kingcup Estate had faced many costs in previous years, but this year, things seemed to be turning around once more. If the estate continued on its current path, it would soon be the most profitable Stanton holding. A memory of Steven Jacobsen, then an adult, looking out over his parcel of land, brought bittersweet pain to Henry’s chest. Steven would have been proud of all that Kingcup was becoming.
A knock at the door chased away the memory.
“Enter,” Henry called.
A manservant pushed his way in, carrying a large tray. “Your breakfast, my lord.”
“Thank you, George.”
The manservant sat the tray down on a side table near a wingback, bowed, and then turned to leave.
“Actually, George,” the words were out of Henry’s mouth almost before he realized what he was asking, “is my wife taking breakfast downstairs this morning?” He’d come to terms with needing to call her something other than ‘Dinah’ when speaking to anyone other than his family. He very well couldn’t address her by her Christian name when speaking of her to the staff or their neighbors. Even after hearing many visitors and the like call her Lady Stanton, Henry still could not shake the horrid feeling saying that name always dredged up. Not yet, at least. Perhaps given time. But for now, ‘my wife’ was much safer.
“I believe her abigail was preparing a tray to be taken to her room the same time I was preparing this one for you, my lord.”
“Very good.”
The manservant bowed a second time and turned to leave.
A tray in her room. That was a good plan. No doubt even the bright and happy Dinah needed a break from his family now and again. The softly wafting smell of ham and toast reached him, yet he didn’t stand and move over to it. Dinah had been yet more delightful yesterday after her family paid her a visit.
More delightful. More beautiful. More exquisite.
A yearning filled him. A sudden desire to see her again, to speak with her. Had not George said that her abigail was preparing her tray as well? That meant she was up, in her room, probably answering correspondences and reviewing the many invitations they’d been receiving ever since the wedding.
“George,” he called out again.
The manservant had already left the room but was apparently not too far down the hall, for he returned after only a moment. If he was put out at being summoned back a second time, he was wise enough not to show it.
“Yes, my lord?”
“Would you please ask my wife if she would have breakfast with me in our sitting room this morning?”
Again, the manservant was far too well-trained to show any emotion, including surprise. “As you wish, my lord.” After another bow—this one made three in almost as many minutes—he left the room.
The room was strangely still once the man had left. It was no more quiet now than it had been before the manservant had brought in breakfast. Yet, now Henry felt smothered by the silence. He placed a hand against the desktop, his fingers drumming out his impatience. The soft tap-tap-tap did little to fill the space.
Oh, hang this. Henry pushed to his feet, scooped up the tray himself, and marched toward the family wing. It felt strange to stray from his typical morning routine. At first light, he was in his office working through business. He had breakfast there and didn’t leave until nearly noon. He was a man of carefully thought-out plans, of order and drive.
And yet, his feet didn’t stop. He didn’t turn back around. He didn’t rescind his order to George.
He came across George speaking with Dinah’s abigail in the corridor.
“She says she’d be quite pleased to take breakfast with his lordship this morning,” she was saying.
“Thank you,” Henry said. He pushed past both servants and opened the door to his and Dinah’s shared sitting room then made his way inside.
His staff was well-trained, but at his erratic behavior, even they stared at him until the door to the sitting room closed between them. Henry could not deny that he was acting quite out of character this morning.
He placed the tray down between the settee and two chairs on the side of the room furthest from the fire. This would be a more comfortable place to eat—and it was rather too warm a morning to be near the hearth.
Taking one of the chairs, he sat back, placing an ankle over a knee. Dinah’s abigail hurried into the room with a tray similar to his own.
She placed it on the table by his and bobbed a curtsy. “Her ladyship will with you in just a minute.”
Henry inclined his head in her direction, and the abigail hurried back into Dinah’s room, no doubt helping her with the last bit of her morning toilette.
