Regency Surrender: Passion And Rebellion. Louise AllenЧитать онлайн книгу.
‘I’ll go and take a look around, then,’ he said, going to light another lamp. ‘See what I can discover. So long as you will be all right here for a while?’
She glanced at him over her shoulder and nodded, with a look that told him he was an idiot for even asking.
He gave a wry smile as he set out to explore the house. He’d contracted a practical marriage, with a practical, no-nonsense sort of woman. Of course she wasn’t going to have a fit of the vapours because he was leaving her alone to get a fire lit.
* * *
By the time he returned to the kitchen, it was noticeably warmer. And there were plates and bowls and things out on the sides, which had previously been bare.
‘While you were gone I had a good look round the larder, found some tea and made a pot,’ said Mary, pouring some into two cups. ‘There’s no milk to go in it, but we can sweeten it with some sugar.’
‘I didn’t expect you to have to act like a servant,’ he said glumly as he set the lamp on its shelf.
She put the teapot down rather hard.
‘Would you rather sit all night in the gloom, with an empty stomach, and wait for someone else to turn up and wait on you?’
‘No. I didn’t mean that! It’s just—I promised you a life of luxury. And on the first day, you’re already reduced to this.’ He waved his arm round the big, empty kitchen.
‘Oh.’ Her anger dissipated as swiftly as his own ever did. She shot him a rueful glance as she dumped two full spoons of sugar into both cups. ‘I don’t mind, you know. It’s the biggest house I’ve ever had to call my own. And I’m sure, come the morning, you will be able to find out what has become of the couple who should be taking care of the place. The state of the larder leads me to believe they have not been away all that long.’
‘It looks as though there’s been a horse in the stables very recently, too,’ he said, taking a seat at the table next to the place settings he noted she’d laid. Then he picked up his cup and braced himself to swallow the sickly concoction without grimacing. She’d been looking through the larder and preparing a meal, when she could have been sitting in front of the fire sulking. Her temper was frayed—the way she’d slammed down the teapot and ladled sugar into his drink without asking whether he liked it or not told him that much. So he’d be an ungrateful oaf to provoke her again, by complaining about such a small thing, when she was clearly doing her utmost to make the best of things.
‘Though no sign of any of my own. Nor my groom,’ he finished gloomily. Dammit, where was everyone?
‘Well, at least we have plenty to eat. Would you like something now? I can make an omelette, if you’d like it.’
‘I am starving,’ he admitted with a wry smile. ‘I suppose we ought to do something about finding somewhere to sleep really, but I could do with fortifying before I can face going upstairs again. The whole place is like an icehouse.’
‘We...we could sleep in the kitchen,’ she suggested, taking a sip of her own tea. ‘It is, at least, warm.’
‘Absolutely not,’ he said, setting his own cup down firmly on the table—with some relief that he had a valid excuse for doing so without having to endure any more of the noxiously syrupy drink. ‘There are a dozen perfectly serviceable bedrooms above stairs. And just because you’ve put on an apron and have to act like a cook doesn’t mean you need to sleep below stairs, as well.’
‘I’ve slept in worse places,’ she admitted.
‘Yes, maybe you have, but you’re married to me now and it is my job to take care of you.’ He was going to do better than his own father had done with Julia’s mother. He wasn’t going to assume Mary should be grateful for the privilege of bearing his name, and his title, no matter what the circumstances.
‘Of course,’ she said meekly, before rising and going across to a sort of preparation area near the stove and cracking several eggs into a bowl.
She didn’t utter a word of reproof, but the set of her back as she grated some cheese into the egg mixture told him he really shouldn’t have raised his voice to her just now.
He cleared his throat.
‘It’s very clever of you to know how to do all this sort of thing.’
‘It was necessary,’ she said, pouring the egg mixture into a pan where she’d already started some butter melting. ‘If I hadn’t learned how to cook, once Papa died, we would have gone hungry. We’d never been all that well off, but after he went, we had to move into a much smaller place and let all the servants go.’ She frowned as she kept pulling the slowly setting mixture from the edges into the middle. ‘Mama did the purchasing and tried to learn how to keep the household accounts in order, while I did the actual physical work of keeping house.’
‘Well, I’m glad of it,’ he said, and then, realising how heartless that sounded, added hastily, ‘I mean, glad you can turn your hand to cooking. That smells wonderful,’ he said, desperately hoping to make up lost ground. ‘Anything I can do to help?’
She stirred the egg mixture several more times before making her reply.
‘It might go down better with some wine,’ she suggested as she added some ham to the egg mixture. ‘But only if you can fetch it quickly. This won’t take but a minute more.’
He didn’t need telling twice. Lord, but he needed to get out of the kitchen before he said something even more tactless and shattered the tentative hold she must be keeping on her temper with him. He returned, with a dusty bottle and two wine glasses, just as she was sliding the omelette on to a plate.
‘Not the best crystal,’ he said, putting the bottle down beside his place setting and pulling a corkscrew from his pocket. ‘But you did specify haste, so I got these from the butler’s pantry.’
‘I’m not used to the best crystal, anyway.’
She startled him then, by looking up at him and smiling ruefully. That she could still muster a smile, any kind of smile, and turn it his way, felt nothing short of miraculous. He dropped into his chair with relief, picked up his fork, swearing to himself he’d praise her cooking to the skies no matter what it tasted like.
But in the event, there was no need to feign appreciation.
‘This has got to be,’ he said, ‘one of the tastiest omelettes I’ve ever eaten.’
She flushed and smiled again, this time with what looked like real pleasure.
‘The...the wine is very good, too,’ she reciprocated, having taken a sip.
‘Don’t go heaping coals of fire on my head. Coming here has been a disaster. All my fault. And you haven’t uttered a single word of complaint. You’re the only woman I know who wouldn’t be ringing a peal over my head.’
‘This really isn’t so very bad,’ she replied, lowering her gaze to her plate, ‘compared to some of the things that have happened to me.’
‘What do you mean?’ He hadn’t really learned all that much about her past, now he came to think of it. He’d been in such a hurry to get her to the altar he hadn’t taken the time to talk.
‘Oh, just...well, it was bad enough after Papa died, but at least Mama and I managed to maintain our independence. Even if it did mean moving frequently, to keep one step ahead of our creditors.’ She flushed, and moved the omelette round and round on her plate, before taking a deep breath and plunging on.
‘But when she died, her annuity died with her. I really did have absolutely nothing, for a while. Fortunately, I managed to track down the lawyer who’d dealt with Papa’s affairs, hoping he would have some solution. But all he did was refer me to Papa’s relations. None of whom wanted the added burden of an indigent female. I really was at my wit’s end by the time I reached London and my aunt Pargetter.