Page 30 of His Bluestocking Bride

“Yes, please. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize the hour.” He started to stand, but her head disappeared, and the door came fully open, revealing Ellen carried a full tea tray. Marcus hurried around his desk to help her, but she twisted her waist enough to move the tray from his grasp.

“I have come this far, you may as well let me finish the trip,” she said, her narrowed eyes challenging him.

Since their arrival, Ellen had taken the whole house in hand as her own. While he could not say he noticed any radical changes in the running of the staff or other matters, he did see the change in his wife. Ellen remained quiet, her thoughtful nature made that a fixture of her personality, but she acted with a decisiveness he did not know she possessed.

Although he should’ve, given how swift her decision to marry him had been.

“Let’s take tea in the library.” He went ahead of her to the adjoining door and pushed it open, allowing her to pass through first.

The library had become Ellen’s. Marcus knew she spent part of her morning reading before the fire in her bedchamber, but evenings he found her curled in a library chair.

She put the tray down on the table behind the sofa and prepared their cups. She didn’t hum as she worked, nor speak, but moved with a graceful sort of efficiency that he enjoyed watching. He waited until she handed him his cup, then he sat down with his back to her and the tea things.

“How are you this afternoon?” she asked, the slight clink of spoon on cup indicating she still worked behind him. “I’ve not seen you since breakfast.”

“I am well, thank you. What have you been doing this morning?”

“Working in the stillroom, rearranging the music room. Hardly anything worth mentioning. Then I saw the time and knew you would not remember to take any nourishment.” She came around the sofa and sat next to him, a pastry in one hand and her cup in the other. “You are single-minded when you work.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Marcus’s mouth and he shook his head. “I become absorbed in tasks. My mother claims a house could fall down around my ears and I wouldn’t notice.”

Ellen laughed; the pleasant sound that brought out his grin. “I think I must agree with her. In the days since we’ve been here, I’ve had to send people to fetch you out of your study for every meal but breakfast.”

“Really?” He chuckled and sat back in his seat, stretching his arm across the back of the sofa. His hand rested above Ellen’s shoulder. “I didn’t even realize it until now, but you’re right. Every afternoon, a maid reminds me of tea, and every evening a footman or Matthews raps on the door to tell me dinner is within the hour. I’ll try to do better, Ellen.”

“Nonsense,” she said, angling her body more towards his. “I admire the way you dedicate yourself to the task at hand and no one is put out by it. You are master here, after all.” She raised her eyebrows and hid a smile behind the rim of her cup, but Marcus caught it and grinned back.

“And how are you enjoying being mistress of Orchard Hill?” he asked, drumming his fingers on the back of the sofa, taking in her appearance with appreciation. Ellen’s self-possession, her satisfaction, were evident in the way she held herself. During the day, he saw her move with purpose through the house, directing the servants with kindness. She was nearly always smiling, too.

“It’s wonderful,” she admitted, her cheeks turning pink. Ellen’s eyes lit up as she told him about the music room and how she had rearranged it to suit her tastes. That was something else he liked, that her practicality thus far had lent itself to making improvements in the rooms without asking for extra funds, though he had expected there to be a more immediate need for purchases.

“What of your improvements to the library?” he asked, looking around the room. “I don’t see any changes.”

“I haven’t decided on any yet.” She reached over the couch to put her cup down on the table behind them, her arm brushing across his. Marcus felt a tingling sensation run through him at the contact, brief though it was. He quickly pulled his arm back, running his hand through his hair to try and make the movement appear more natural.

Days into this marriage and I’m as disconcerted as a schoolboy at his first ball. Marcus avoided her eyes, concerned she might see his thoughts within them. He’d managed not to have more physical contact thus far but being careful had necessitated becoming extremely aware of her nearness. That had to be the reason for the sensation her brief touch had caused.

“It isn’t a very large library,” he said, his eyes taking in the shelves built into the walls. “But we could add to it. If you like.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and was rewarded with her expression of obvious pleasure.

“I would, very much. I made a list of titles from my father’s library I would dearly love to have. But every time I come in here to catalog your collection, I get distracted and end up reading.”

“That will not do,” Marcus said, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head in as disapproving a manner as he could manage. “First, you must never call it my collection again. It is ours.” She lowered her head but he caught her lips turning upward. “Second, a proper catalog is essential to a well-maintained library. Come, I will help you make a start of it. Where are you recording your finds?”

Ellen’s head came up and her eyes widened, their warm brown depths full of surprise. “But you are so busy,” she said. “I do not wish to bother you with it.”

“Nonsense. I could actually use the distraction this afternoon.” He stood and went to one corner of the shelves. “Where did you start and how far have you gotten?”

Ellen rose more slowly, with the self-possessed grace he admired, and went to the mantel where a slim leather notebook rested. She opened it and he saw a pencil inside. “It is nothing very extravagant. I thought to first catalog things then organize a system for recording and shelving the books.”

“A good way to start.” He held out his hand to receive the notebook from her and their bare fingertips grazed each other. Marcus ignored the spark that jumped from her hand to his and instead looked down at the page. “Ellen,” he said, his eyebrows shooting up. He chuckled and showed it to her. “You’ve written down five titles?”

The blush flared in her cheeks again and she tucked her hands behind her back, shrugging. “I told you, I became distracted.”

He let his shoulders slump dramatically and shook his head, affecting a disappointed frown. “Ellen, Ellen. What you need is some of my single-mindedness to complete this task.”

“Very obviously,” she answered, matching him look-for-look and dipping her head in a sage nod. “Shall I read the titles and you record them?”

“I think it best you move far from the shelves and record as I read them. Else you may distract us both by reading aloud from their pages.”