For a Lady's Lust: A Historical Regency Romance Book
Page 19
They stepped into the elaborate foyer, lined with gorgeous old-world paintings of Marta’s relatives and Uncle Everett’s, as well. Everyone in the paintings looked rather forlorn and aghast and sallow, as though they’d lived very hard lives and had only paused for a brief moment to have their paintings done. Again, Laura seemed incredulous at anyone opening the door for her. She leaned again towards Marta’s ear and muttered, “They must know that I’m a servant, correct?”
“It doesn’t matter. We’re guests just now,” she returned.
“So much German in this house!” Aunt Margaret said. This time, it seemed clear that she didn’t welcome it.
This caused a memory to flicker up in Marta’s mind. Years before, when she’d been a twelve-year-old visitor, her mother had forbidden her from speaking any German. This had been a bizarre time, as her mind flicked between English and German, and she wasn’t always clear which word would fly from her mouth on-command. Her mother’s watchful eyes and ears had caused her to snap her lips shut more than once, seconds before she uttered something auf Deutsch.
“Mother, they’ve only just arrived,” Ewan said. His words were reproachful, as though he understood precisely the sort of pressure Marta was under. He gestured out toward the hallway, which seemed to lead back towards the garden outside. “The clouds have cleared. Would you like to meet in the garden after you freshen up? I imagine dinner will be served rather soon.”
“We’re terribly hungry,” Marta said good-naturedly.
“Hungry,” Laura repeated, in English.
“Let me show you to your rooms,” the butler said, his voice booming.
“We’ll meet you shortly,” Marta said to Ewan, lending him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
Marta had been given a grand room with a corner window that echoed back a beautiful view of the sweeping moors and the thick forest and the little river that snaked through the trees. The light spread out across the bed in a way that seemed almost planned, making the white of the top blanket almost blistering to look at. No, this bedroom didn’t feature a view of her Alps—but it was certainly generous. The butler placed her suitcases near the bed and said, “Now, I will show your maid her quarters.”
Laura disappeared with the butler. She cast back a frightened glance, but Marta spoke in German, “All will be well. Meet me in the garden in twenty minutes,” and Laura gave a firm nod.
The moment Laura disappeared, however, Marta’s heart sank into her belly. Exhaustion brimmed in every part of her body. She ached to slip beneath the covers of her brand-new, foreign bed and close her eyes for many, many hours.
But no. She was in England now. She had to play by the rules of this strange Auntie, a woman who seemed ill-suited to anything she didn’t fully understand.
Marta wondered how well that would play out. She imagined it would be interesting, to say the least.
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