Sarah helped her maneuver down the steps where Dillon waited to assist her outside. He helped Caitlin into the back of the carriage, instructing the driver to hurry home. The motion from the horses launching forward, however, proved too much for her weak stomach. Covering her mouth she tried to hold back the nauseous feeling.
“Feeling ill, my pet?” Dillon chuckled at the vicious glare she tossed him.
* * *
The sun filtering through the gray clad sky dimly made its way into the equally gray bedroom that hosted its new mistress. With a groan Caitlin rolled over and vomited into the bucket placed next to her bed.
A light rapping on the door intensified the shooting pain behind her eyes. “Who is it?” she barked.
“Your husband.” Dillon’s voice drifted through the door.
“What do you want?”
She heard the door squeak open. Dillon listlessly crossed the room and stood at the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling, my sweet?”
She tried to glare but the response produced tears in her blood shot eyes. “I think I’m going to die,” she moaned.
“You will not die, however you will be sick for a while.” He dipped a wash cloth in the porcelain washbasin, wrung it out and placed it on her forehead.
Caitlin reveled in the coolness for a few seconds before her pride reared up. Ripping the cloth off, she threw it back at him. “I do not need your help.” Embarrassment combined with discomfort caused her tone to sharpen. “You probably think I’m a lushy, and now God is punishing me.”
Not wanting to add to the turmoil he replied, “I think you are a woman who celebrated her wedding day. You just overindulged in the spirits a bit.”
Caitlin’s eyes flashed, “I wanted to forget that I was married.”
“Did it work?”
“For a while. I do not recall much from the end of the wedding feast.” As the thought slowly dawned on her she sat up straight in bed. “How did I get here? And who undressed me?” Had he broken his word and taken advantage of me? The sudden movement caused her squeamish stomach to revolt once again. She almost felt too sick to care if he had ravished her.
As the remnants of dinner heaved into the bucket, Dillon filled a glass with water and handed it to her.
She negatively shook her head. The thought of anything in her stomach, even water, intensified the queasiness.
“Drink it.” He pressed the glass into her hand. “It will help you feel better.”
She gingerly took a few sips, which washed the disgusting taste out of her mouth, but did little to ease her headache or upset stomach.
“And to ease your mind,” Dillon reassured her, “Lucy put you to bed last night.”
“Who is Lucy?” The thought of a stranger undressing her wasn’t any more pleasant than the thought of Dillon doing it himself.
“Your personal maid.”
“My what?”
“Lucy assures me that she’s skillful in arranging hair and is up to date on all the latest styles.”
“I have a personal maid?” Just how deep did his pockets go?
“Aye, my pet. She will be back in a little while. I let her have a break since she has been tending to you all morning.”
“What time is it?” The questions forged through her hazy mind.
“Almost half past ten.”
Caitlin rolled her head back unto the pillows and closed her eyes. “I have never slept in this late.”
“I believe you will be spending the better part of the day in bed.”
“I take it you’ve been through this before?”
“Only once. ‘Twas enough to deter me from partaking in spirits again.”
“Once shall be enough for me also. That is, of course, if I survive.”
“You will survive. Trust me.” He handed her the wet cloth again. “Put this over your eyes. It will ease the ache in your head.”
Normally Caitlin would have put up a fight, but she didn’t have the strength today. Besides, the cool cloth did feel good. “Are you going to say it?”
“Say what, my lady?”
“You told me so.”
“Nay. I tried to warn you of the effects only to protect you from this misery you’re facing now.”
“I should have listened.” Removing the cloth she looked into his brown eyes. “Why did you not try harder to stop me?”
“’Tis not my desire to impose my will or beliefs upon you. You are obviously a very spirited and well-educated young lady, quite capable of making decisions on your own, when you are not being so stubborn.”
She wanted to argue the matter, but somehow he had disguised the insult with a compliment. “You must be a poor debater if that is the best insult you can produce.”
“No insult intended.”
“I would normally quibble with you, however, my head is pounding and a ringing forms in my ears with every word. I fear I must wait until my health returns before I can dispute with you.”
“I await the day with anticipation.” He ceremoniously bowed. “Good day, madam.”
“Good?” She’d have laughed outright if the throbbing in her head would quit.
Chapter 4
Caitlin wrapped the robe around her slender body securing it with a belt. The blue cloth did little in fighting off the chill, but it offered more modesty than the white, cotton nightgown. She cautiously walked down the dimly lit hall. Peering into the rooms whose doors stood ajar made her feel a bit guilty, as if she was snooping around a stranger’s house, yet this was now her home.
The rooms were practically empty, furnished with the barest of necessities. No pictures hung on the walls. There were no fancy curtains adorning the windows, and no fashionable rugs on the floors. A gray drab feeling hung around the entire house. It didn’t look or feel like the households she’d grown up in.
Her mother had always managed to transform the meekest house into a warm, loving, carefree, and hospitable home. The fireplaces were lit in every room, warding off the chill, and making unexpected guests feel welcome. This place felt more like a dungeon.
Crossing to the other side of the hall she peeked into a bedroom. Unable to see clearly she pushed the door open wider. This room had personal touches, making it feel more comfortable than the others. The crackling fire engulfed the room in a warm, cozy glow.
“How are you feeling this morning?”
She jumped as Dillon’s voice startled her. “Better. I merely feel like a team of horses ran over me, but I no longer think I’ll die.”
“’Tis good to hear.” He softly laughed. “So how do you like Regal Hall?”
“’Tis a bit chilly.” Caitlin crossed her arms, feeling self-conscious about her state of dress.
“Are you cold?”
“A little.” She rubbed her palms up and down the length of her arms.
“Where are your slippers?” He questioned, noticing her bare feet.
“I have not found them.”
“Are your trunks not in your room?” His tone was sharp.
“Aye.” She didn’t want to admit that bending over the chests made her feel sick. She still felt too weak to do much of anything.
“You cannot walk around Regal Hall without something on your feet. You will catch your death.”
“I wouldn’t if there were some heat in this place.”
“It will be warmer downstairs, however you must find coverings for your feet. I do not have many carpets in the house.”
“You don’t have much furnishings at all.”
“I have what I need.”
“Why is this room nicer?”
“’Tis Lucy’s room. I believe women are better suited for decorating and such.”
“Why not hire someone to fix it up?”
“I am pleased with it the way it is. Does it not meet your approval?”
“’Tis nothing regal about it unless you like dingy and gray. This house could use a sprucing up. Some paint and new curtains would go a long way. Not to men
tion a few carpets.”
“I believe decorating is best left for the woman of the household. The house looked like this when I bought it, and I have not bothered to change anything. I shall leave that task up to you, my dear.”
“What?” Her green eyes filled with excitement. “You want me to decorate your house?”
“’Tis you’re home now also.” He reminded her. “I want you to do whatever you wish. You can renovate the whole interior if you like.”
“That could be very expensive.”
“Money is no object.” He assured her. “This house is in your hands. Now, shall we go have the morning meal?” He offered his arm.
“Perhaps I should dress first.” She pulled the sides of her robe up higher around her neck.
“Nonsense. This is your home, and I will have you take the morning meal in whatever you please.”
“I would feel more comfortable in a morning dress.”
“You look beautiful just as you are. Besides, Martha will be angry if we are late.”
Hastily running a hand through her long tresses, she felt the tangles and snarls. She looked a fright. Nonetheless, it was nice to hear a compliment. “I am pretty hungry.”
“’Tis because you did not have any solid food yesterday.”
“You assured me that chicken broth wouldn’t upset my stomach like solid food.” She slid her arm through his.
“Did I lie?” he asked as he led the way downstairs.
“No. However I am famished today.”
“That is the price to pay for a hangover.”
“If you do not mind, sir, I’d like to never bring up the subject of my foolish behavior again.”
“As you wish, madam.”
They entered the dining room where smells of sausage, bacon, eggs, hoe cakes, oatmeal, and biscuits greeted them. The overpowering smells made her feel faint. Dillon put a steady arm around her waist, guiding her soft form into a chair. He liked the feel of her womanly body pressed against his.
“Perhaps you should start with something light,” he commented. “How about a cup of tea?”
“’Twould be nice.”
The tea not only settled her stomach but also stimulated some warmth in her cold body. She shivered slightly from the sensation of the heat.
When the bulky maid came back into the room, Dillon directed her to find Lucy and have her go through Caitlin’s things until she found the slippers. “Bring another wrap for the mistress also,” he ordered.
“Yes, my lord.” She curtsied then went off to do his bidding.
“Do you want some butter or honey for your hoe cakes?” Dillon held up the china boat.
“No, thank you. ‘Twill be better to eat light this morning.”
“I suspect you are right.” He looked at her plate. “You have managed to eat quite a bit. It will help you feel better.” He held up a biscuit. “Want to try one? Martha is well known for her flaky pie crusts, and rich breads and biscuits.”
“How can I not try one with such a glowing report?” She took one, declining the butter he offered.
“I must get to the shop,” Dillon announced. “Feel free to look around, but do not overdo it. You have a house full of servants at your disposal, so take it easy.”
“I believe I will take a nap. I still have a slight headache.”
“Excellent. I will be home at noon for supper. Good day, my lady.”
* * *
After a nap and a long bath, Lucy brushed through her hair pinning it up, and placing a white cottage cap over the auburn pile. Adorning a blue, muslin morning dress Caitlin toured the house, making mental notes and forming her plans to transform the house into a regal palace. Deciding that the parlor and dining room should be the first rooms converted, since these were the entertaining rooms, she then took a look around the kitchen.
Martha, however, disliked the intrusion and stated so. She’d run the kitchen for twelve years and wasn’t about to hand the authority over to some stranger, even if she happened to be the master’s wife.
Caitlin, knowing her way around a kitchen had spotted several things that did not meet her approval. She ruffled Martha’s feathers by insisting the leftover flour on the kneading board should be scrapped back into the “emptyings” jar.
“There’s bits of dough mixed with that flour.”
“The crumbs will not hurt anything and that’s a lot of flour being wasted.”
“It isn’t that much flour.” Martha insisted. “I have never put scraps in my starter. The bits of dough will make my pancakes and biscuits lumpy.”
“My mother and Hilda managed our kitchen that way, and you’d be hard pressed to find better bakers in all of Ireland.”
“Perhaps that’s how things were done in your homeland, but you’re in America now. I’d remind you to remember that.” Martha crossed her thick arms in front of her large chest, bringing the discussion to an end.
“We’ll see what Dillon has to say on the subject.” Caitlin never let anyone else have last word in an argument. However, she heard Martha mumbling under her breath as she left.
Caitlin found the rest of the staff reserved but more open to her presence. Their curiosity overrode any resentment they may have felt. The astonishment at their master’s hasty marriage to a woman he barely knew melted the moment he’d carried his bride over the threshold. Even though the poor thing had been sicker than a dog, you couldn’t hide her undeniable beauty.
* * *
“How was your morning?” Dillon unbuttoned his benjamin and hung it on the coat rack, placing his hat on a peg next to it.
“Quite productive,” Caitlin beamed. “I have decided which rooms I want to redecorate first.”
“That was fast.” Dillon assumed she would take a while to become comfortable with the house before jumping into the task of redesigning the rooms.
“I am not one to waste to time,” she stated. “I have several ideas of what I want to do, but since I’ve never done this before I may have to hire someone to assist me.”
“Whatever you need.” He felt his heart skip a beat as a smile brightened her face. He’d give up all his money to keep her happy.
“I need to go into town first thing tomorrow. Perhaps, Mrs. Johnson can recommend someone.”
“I would prefer you didn’t go into town just yet.”
“Why?” Her smile faded.
“You do not have a chaperon.”
“If you recall, I’m now married and do not need one. I’m perfectly safe going into town alone. Beside, Lucy will be more than happy to accompany me.”
“’Tis not a question of your safety.”
“Then what is it?” Hostility engraved her tone.
“I would like to be present and decide on the person we hire.”
“Oh.” That wasn’t an unreasonable request. After all, he was paying for the remodeling; he should have a say in the decisions. “Would you like me to go over my ideas with you?” Her tone softened.
“Nay, madam. As I said earlier, decorating is best left in the hands of a woman. I merely want to oversee the hired help.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
“I am not an unreasonable man.”
“That remains to be seen.” A reasonable fellow wouldn’t have forced her into marriage. A reasonable man would have helped her out of the predicament when asked. He would have seen her need for independence and left her alone. “However, you’re right on this subject. I would not have the first clue how to hire a worker.”
“My schedule will be busy at the shop tomorrow, but maybe the day after I can drive you.”
“’Twill have to do.” She pretended to pout. “But, I can do nothing else until then.”
“I promise to take you to town as soon as possible. Until then, maybe a tour of the outside grounds will occupy your time.”
“Oh, yes.” She eagerly smiled. “Can we go after supper?”
“If it will please you, my dear.” Her enthusiasm surprised him, an
d, yet, strangely delighted him.
“There is one other thing I wish to discuss with you.” Inhaling deeply and smoothing out a few wrinkles in her morning dress, she continued, “’Tis about Martha
His laughter made her look up. “I shall speak with her, although I’ll be wasting my breath. Martha’s used to running the household.”
“Am I not the mistress of the house now?”
“Aye. But you have to cut her some slack. ‘Twill take time for the two of you to learn to work together.”
“No wonder she runs the house with an attitude like that?” Caitlin quipped. “She’s a servant. You must have a firm hand in dealing with her.”
“I have not needed a firm hand with her before.” Though he didn’t like the remark about Martha only being a servant, he didn’t say anything. She was fifteen years his senior and had been like a mother to him.
“Have you been married before?”
“You know I have not.”
“Then this problem never arose before?”
The Unwilling Bride Page 6
