Ashberry’s jaw clenched at the memory of the doctor’s words as the agony in Ellie’s voice washed over him but he could say nothing to ease her pain. Instead, he quickly found a rag and the vial, which she had placed in the drawer beside her bed.
“I’ll leave in just a minute Ella,” he said gently, “So that you can do this in private. I just don’t want you to use too much.”
She laughed at that. “What a panic that would cause.”
The marquess actually smiled in return as he broke the wax and poured just a tiny bit on the clean bit of linen. “Throw this rag deep into the fire, Ella, when you’ve finished, and make sure it burns. I will take care of the vial.” At Ella’s nod, the marquess retrieved his book from where he had laid it beside the bed before whispering, “Goodnight Ella.”
“Goodnight,” she returned quietly, her eyes squarely on him until the door closed between them.
* * * *
Ashberry slept little, despite the bottle of bourbon he consumed in front of his own lonely fire. It wasn’t the way at all he wished to spend his wedding night, but he reminded himself repeatedly that his lifetime with Ellie was more important than just that one night. Which would have been a disaster, he inwardly lectured, cursing a little at the bleary-eyed man in the mirror the next morning.
Griffin didn’t seem to find anything amiss. “Good morning, my lord,” he said cheerfully when the marquess stumbled into the dressing room. The marquess suffered through his toilet: a quick bath and shave, followed by Griffin’s attendance while he dressed. He refused to sit for the interminable time it took to tie the cravat, just looping it over enough to close his shirt and declaring it would do for the day. “I certainly don’t expect company today,” he told the valet, “And I doubt Lady Ashberry will mind.”
Griffin’s eyes peaked a little at the mention of the marchioness. “I trust she is well?” he asked slyly, as if it would then not be apparent that they had spent the morning together.
Ashberry lied. “She is quite well,” he answered and then added, “I am going to check on her and then go to breakfast.”
Griffin turned away but Ashberry was not deceived. He knew the man was smiling, even as he replied, “I will be sure Cook is expecting you.”
Ashberry paused, delivering his parting shot just before stepping through the doorway. “There is very valuable book in my chamber. Please take it down to my study. Her ladyship gave it to me as a gift just last evening. Oh, and Griffin, I left two new handkerchiefs that Lady Ashberry embroidered for me on her bedside table, I’ll ask Wendy to deliver them to you.” Behind him, he knew Griffin would be nearly gleeful, for the man had been hinting for years that he should marry. The engagement had sent the man into near euphoria and this morning news was sure to filter through the staff quite quickly. Though he knew Griffin would say nothing aloud, there was nothing more certain than the valet’s patent smugness to deliver the news Ashberry wished to convey.
Ellie wasn’t in her chamber, though he noted the two treasured pieces of embroidery remained, neatly folded so that the crest was not creased. The curtains on the bed were drawn back and the fire well extinguished so he proceeded quite confidently to the dressing room door. Only once he was there did he hesitate, remembering suddenly his instructions that Ellie was to bathe in the morning, but there was no helping it now that he had made his plans known. He dared not knock, so with a false calm he opened the door and faced the room.
His bride gasped even as she slid down into the water, as deeply as the bath would allow her. His eyes took in the scene almost worshipfully and his mouth opened as if to speak, but nothing seemed to come out.
Wendy smiled breezily, as if he was expected, but Ashberry hardly noticed. He couldn’t take his eyes from Ellie’s bare shoulders or the tops of her breasts through the water, but he did manage to speak after a fraught moment of silence. The voice was strange to everyone in the room as he asked, “Wendy, could you find the kerchiefs her ladyship embroidered for me and be sure that Griffin gets them?”
Wendy took the question to be a dismissal, for she answered, “Immediately, my lord,” before slipping past him and into the boudoir, the door latching quietly behind her.
Ashberry dared not step closer. He did not want to destroy the shreds of composure he had spent the night before rebuilding and he could hardly stand the thought of any more panic entering the embarrassed face before him. “I won’t come any closer, for both our sakes,” he said finally, still not turning his eyes away.
“I, I didn’t expect you quite so early,” Ellie managed, her voice shaky.
“I didn’t expect to find you already up,” he answered, his eyes moving up from the bathwater to her chin and then to the hair piled above her head. “I should dearly love to brush that someday.”
Ellie could hardly keep her hands still at her sides. She knew he could not see much below the water line, for he was standing several feet away, but he was clearly fascinated by the picture she presented. The urge to cover her body was almost overwhelming but she knew it would only draw attention to her state. “I’m sure Wendy would be relieved to not have the responsibility.”
Reluctantly, he opened one of the doors that led from the dressing room to the sitting room. “Wendy will be gone an appropriate amount of time, long enough to give me time to enjoy my lovely bride’s bath. Be sure you’re washed when she gets back—she’ll expect me to have performed that heavenly task.”
Before Ellie could answer, he was gone. She knew he would go out through her sitting room and down the stairs. Still, several minutes passed before she heard the outer door close and Ellie supposed he was simply trying to establish the additional time together. Almost compulsively, she washed herself, anxious to be out of the water and dressed before any further incidents occurred. Not that he would come back, she told herself. His discomfiture had been perceptible even to Wendy. No doubt she was reporting her news with delight even now, the bloodstained negligee as evidence.
Ellie sighed, reminding herself to be grateful for Ashberry’s thoughtfulness and forbearance. In a house this size, a wedding night fiasco could easily be misconstrued into a lack of respect from the staff, making it virtually impossible to establish herself as its mistress.
The new marchioness donned her husband’s necklace before she descended the stairs. Wendy had exclaimed when she saw it, complimenting her mistress on its beauty. “It belonged to his lordship’s mother,” Ellie told her. “And we must take great care with it. I should hate to be the one to lose or break it.” Wendy had fastened it carefully behind her neck, agreeing quickly.
“I shall be sure to put such treasures away carefully, my lady, but you must decide where to keep such pretty things.”
“I suppose I should buy a chest for them, one that locks.” In fact, a note to that effect was the first thing Ellie wrote in the new pocket book her mother had purchased for her, to help with the myriad of details necessary to manage the houses Ashberry maintained and staffed.
Remembering Ashberry’s instructions the night before, her descent down the stairs was slow and uneasy, and her entry to the dining room slightly awkward. It was a large and gracious room with a warm fire already burning, French doors to the garden, windows with curtains opened to allow in the sunshine and a buffet already set with promising dishes.
Alexander, Ashberry’s butler, must have been watching for her, because he stepped into the room almost as soon as she did. “His lordship has already eaten,” he said apologetically, holding out the chair at the end of the table. “Would you like me to serve?”
“Thank you, Alexander,” she said, feeling more competent here than she thought she ever would in her relationship with Ashberry. “Everything smells delicious.”
She had ham and fruit and a roll before setting her napkin on the table. “Did his lordship say if he had plans?” She didn’t know where to find him in the massive house and thought she might become lost trying. The normal question had completely slip
ped her mind in the shock of the encounter upstairs.
The man took her plate away, handing her a cup of tea to sip. “He suggested, my lady, that you might like to meet with the house steward, Mr. Winters, and our housekeeper Mrs. Shannon. I thought as well that you might want to tour the entire house today before callers begin coming in the mornings. His lordship is in his study, though, and I will show you there if you wish to see him.”
The sobriety of the man would have amused Ellie if he hadn’t been so earnest, so she took his suggestion seriously. “I think that sounds like an excellent plan for the morning, if his lordship hasn’t made other arrangements for us. Is Mr. Winters available this morning?”
“Of course, my lady.”
“Please tell him that I would like to meet with him and Mrs. Shannon after I consult with Ashberry.” She set the tea down before standing. “If you would show me to his study?”
On the way, Alexander reminded her that the house was a rectangle, with an interior courtyard. A separate building for the kitchen was across a narrow kitchen court at the south end. “If it wasn’t so chilly outside, my lady, the most direct way would be to cross the atrium courtyard and go down the corridor.” The butler stopped, so that she would see across the small barren garden and into the other side of the house. Instead, he led her around the north end of the house, past the main stairs and the assembly and music room. “His lordship’s study is just between the music room and the library, my lady.”
Ellie smiled, delighted at the man’s simple descriptions, waiting patiently while Alexander knocked on the door. The answer from within was immediate, and Ellie found herself being shown into the masculine room. From behind the desk, Ashberry murmured quietly, “Alexander, her ladyship need not knock.”
“Of course, my lord,” the man replied, backing out.
Ellie stood inside the doorway and looked around in amazement. Her father’s study was small, mostly bare unadorned walls, with only the desk, chairs for he and his sons and a carpet for embellishment. Here, Ashberry had obviously taken an opposite approach. Like the library, all the walls were covered with bookcases and paneling made from a rich oak, with books not filling the room but certainly taking a prominent place. Two windows set close together let the only natural light into the room and Ashberry’s desk was in front of them to her right. The fireplace was large, with a hearth that seemed to dominate the room and double doors across the room and facing her opened into the library. The carpet was a deep plush blue and the only open spots on the walls were covered with paintings—one of a man Ellie thought must be her husband’s father hung above the hearth and several small paintings of his siblings hung above each doorway. Even the ceiling was exquisite—a deep golden yellow with oak beams to support it. She took a minute to absorb the full room, the click of the door behind her reminding them both that Alexander had perhaps waited just a moment longer than needed to close the door.
She stepped into the room, surprised when Ashberry rose from his desk and met her, taking both hands in his. He led her to one of the armchairs near the fire and settled her there, choosing to lean against the side of the hearth. “What can I do for you, my dear?”
Ellie blushed even as she reminded them both of their morning encounter. “I thought I might meet with Mr. Winters and Mrs. Shannon this morning, but I wanted to be certain you didn’t have other plans for us. I, I didn’t get an opportunity to ask you this, this morning.”
He smiled, enjoying the look of her in his own favorite chair. He hoped foolishly that she would leave some of her delicious fragrance behind when she departed, but said nothing of his thoughts to her. They had already discussed her role as mistress both here and at Ashberry Park and he was glad she felt confident enough to embark on that adventure immediately. “I had no plans made, Ella,” he said with a smile. “But if you would prefer to bathe again—”
“My lord!” she gasped, stopping him with a raised hand, her cheeks delightfully reddening.
He was unrepentant, even to the point of moving to sit on the arm of her chair and leaning down so that their lips nearly brushed together. His left arm blocked her into the chair, balancing him in an awkward position over her. He admitted, “You know then that I could barely restrain myself?”
She nodded, her eyes nearly as wide as the face of his pocket watch.
He was pleased that her uncertainty wasn’t fear. At least, not the palpable fear he’d seen in her face the evening before. He hoped she was confident to know that his study was a much safer location for seduction than any room with a bed in it, despite his reliability the previous night. His mouth curved, his nose brushed hers. Eye to eye, he held her there until she breathed, the warmth coming from her mouth and nose and brushing against his lip. “By the way, I warned you,” he whispered, “That I want to hear you say my name.”
SEVEN
His lips met hers then, just softly as possible and just for an instant.
Ashberry held his body rigid as he pulled away, and with his hands almost clenching into fists, stood up and moved to stand behind her. Her lips had been soft, softer than he had imagined, and she hadn’t tensed or resisted him. The thought was heady and it took him several minutes to recover.
Ellie was grateful for the reprieve. After a long minute, she took a deep breath. Ashberry was behind her chair, but she knew he would still be focused on her. He had pulled away before his body had taken over the kiss and Ellie nearly thanked him for it, stopping the words only by covering her mouth with a quicker hand. Her lips tingled where they had met and the sensation was strangely pleasant—unfamiliar but pleasant.
“Go,” he said roughly, the word low and urgent, but Ellie was intelligent enough to obey.
She fled the study, the door closing behind her as she hurried into the music room across the corridor. She stood just inside the doors and caught her breath. This room was her favorite of all the rooms she had seen at Ashberry House, perhaps because it was missing entirely from the Whitney home. It opened by two sets of doors into the large assembly room and was capable of sitting a small orchestra at the western end, but the centerpiece of the room was the beautiful pianoforte, a masterpiece of an instrument that occupied the east end of the room where Ellie stood. No fire burned in the hearth and the keys were cold, but Ellie ran her hands over them anyway, testing the ease with which the piece could be played. The instrument was in perfect tune, for it had been played only the afternoon before and Ellie could hardly help but to sit and indulge in a joy she hadn’t expected to have that day.
Alexander, Winters and Mrs. Shannon all arrived to the strains of Handel’s Rinaldo flowing through the room and out into the corridor. Inside his own study door, Ashberry had frozen in his chair, pen in hand. Alexander had the sense to ease open the door, allowing the melody to filter more fully into his master’s study. Mrs. Shannon’s hands were clasped together in delight for a moment before she quickly hurried to the end of the room and pulled open the curtains, allowing the sunlight to flood the room. At the door of the music room, Winters had a moment of inspiration. He quickly summoned a footman and ordered a fire for the room at the soonest possible moment.
Ellie smiled at the three senior staff members only after she played the final chord. She hadn’t really known how to summon them and was glad the music had attracted all three. “I dearly love music, you know,” she told them. “The last time I was able to play an instrument this fine was in Paris and I have waited quite patiently for an opportunity to enjoy this one.”
Winters looked at Alexander who looked at Mrs. Shannon. It was Alexander who spoke. “I’m afraid it hasn’t been played much in recent memory, my lady. However, Miss Caroline had it tuned before Miss Charlotte’s wedding.”
“Has it been in the house long, then?” she asked curiously, stroking the ivory keys.
Mrs. Shannon answered that question. “I was just a kitchen maid here, my lady, when it was purchased. That was more than thirty years ago.”
As
hberry provided a further explanation from the doorway, his voice quiet and rich. “My father purchased it as his wedding gift for my mother,” he offered quietly. The three servants turned around while Ellie stood and nervously smoothed out her skirt. “You play it wonderfully,” he added, his eyes on hers, an unfamiliar light in them.
“Thank you, my lord,” Ellie said softly, not able to look away.
Ashberry recovered first, shaking his head and stepping back. “Play it as much as you would like,” he said with a smile, “And enjoy it—there is another at Ashberry Park that is just as magnificent. Father purchased it to celebrate my birth.” His eyes wandered to his steward. “I trust you shall be able to spend some time with her ladyship this morning, Winters.”
“Of course, my lord,” the man replied smoothly. He was nearly sixty, having been the Ashberry butler for many long years before being asked to manage the London house.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Ashberry excused himself, with a final look at Ellie she couldn’t interpret.
Winters had a smile on his face as he began. “We’d like to congratulate you on your marriage. It’s obvious to us that you will be quite happy together.”
Ellie took a deep breath. It was obvious to her that these three had interpreted Ashberry’s odd expression in the context of their recent marriage, and were pleased by her effect on him. All three smiled. She inclined her head, smiling graciously. “Thank you so much for your best wishes. I’m afraid I didn’t have the chance before our wedding to meet all of the staff, but from what I’ve observed, you run this house quite efficiently,” she started.
They began well in that way. Alexander returned to his duties, while Mrs. Shannon and Winters took her on an extended tour of the old structure. It had gone through many changes, but had always been large and imposing, two floors of elegance and distinction and a third floor of attics, servants’ quarters, schoolrooms and nurseries. Ellie was pleased to discover a perfect morning room on the first floor just two doors from Ashberry’s sitting room. “I shall use this room quite often when we are here,” she told Winters seriously. “I realize I am not required to do a good deal of housekeeping her in London, but this is the perfect room for us to have our regular meetings about menus and accounts, as well as for me to receive family and close friends. I’d like to keep my sitting room private.”
Embracing Ashberry Page 11
