Page 32 of His Bluestocking Bride

“Thank you.” Ellen made a note of that and was ready to end the meeting when a knock came at the door. “Enter,” she called.

Matthews came in with a silver tray, holding the afternoon post.

“I will leave you to your correspondence, Mrs. Calvert,” her housekeeper said after Ellen accepted two envelopes from the tray.

Ellen nodded her thanks, seeing the topmost letter bore Marianne’s hand. The second piece of mail gave her pause. It was addressed formally. She broke the seal and unfolded the paper to reveal an invitation to a dinner party.

“Oh dear,” she whispered to herself, reading over it carefully. It seemed the neighborhood had become aware of their presence at last.

She came to her feet and went in search of her husband, the invitation in hand.

But when she went out the door to begin her search, she nearly ran into him in the hall. She reached out, her hand brushing his arm to stop her forward momentum. “Marcus, pardon me.”

He brought both his hands up to hold her forearms, steadying them both after the near collision. His deep chuckle made her heart’s tempo increase.

“My fault, I thought I heard a step and didn’t slow my own.” He looked down at her, his brown eyes sparkling with excitement, and she tried not to admire the fading freckles across his cheeks. As much as they charmed her, she ought to avoid looking at them altogether.

“The weather is beautiful today. The sun has melted some of the snow and there aren’t any clouds. Would you like to tour our property, Mrs. Calvert?”

Was that the cause of his eagerness? She knew he had seen the land in the weeks before their wedding, but the weather had turned the night of their arrival, which meant Marcus had been unable to show her the grounds yet.

“Yes, if you think it’s a good day for it,” she agreed, captured by his smile and the enthusiasm radiating from him. “I need to change.”

“Excellent. We can meet downstairs in twenty minutes?”

“Yes, perfect.”

His hands on her forearms gave a gentle squeeze, almost affectionate when coupled with his teasing grin. “Dress warmly.” He released her and left, going to his own room to change.

Ellen belatedly remembered the invitation in her hand and sighed.

I really am too easily distracted. The problem was a thousand times more pronounced when Marcus was nearby.

It was the work of a quarter of an hour to summon her maid and dress. Ellen wore her riding habit of deep green, as well as a long red coat that would do well to keep her warm on horseback. Once her hat was pinned in place, she descended the stairs in search of her husband. He was waiting by the front door, hands clasped behind his back and rocking forward and back on his heels. He looked up as she set foot on the ground floor and his boyish grin appeared.

“You look ready to brave the cold.”

“Indeed. And you look eager for it.” She checked her gloves again and followed him out the front door. The horses waited, held by the young groom. A mounting block had been brought to the front of the house.

“Thank you, Banner,” Marcus said. He shot a smile in her direction. “I thought the less trudging you had to do on foot, the better.”

“I appreciate the thoughtfulness,” she said, allowing the groom to hand her up into the saddle of a charming bay mare. “But I never trudge.” What had made her say such a silly thing? Ellen blushed and opened her mouth, ready to explain away her frivolous words, but Marcus laughed before she could.

“No, of course you’re right. You move with more grace than any woman I’ve ever met.” As he moved his horse past her, he winked, then continued on as though nothing of consequence had been said. Which convinced her he meant it every bit as much as his considerate words from the day before.

They rode in silence around the house to the open field, covered in snow, that separated them from the apple orchards. She could see the bare branches from the upstairs windows, reaching up to the sky, unashamed to have lost their leaves.

As they crossed the field, their horses’ breath puffing out in clouds of steam, Ellen took in the quiet landscape. Here and there she saw evidence of animals, where tracks of rabbits and birds dotted the ground, and she could hear a winter bird singing in the distance.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Marcus said, bringing her attention forward to where she saw him looking back at her. “Clean and bright. Not like London snow.”

“Or Bath’s,” she said.

He pulled back on his reins and waited until their horses were even to continue forward.

“Did you like your seasons in Bath?” he asked, his eyes fixed ahead.

“When I had them, yes.” Her eyes lingered on his profile. The angular line of his jaw would’ve looked stubborn on a more serious face, but on Marcus it added to his air of mischief. “I imagine there is more to do in London.”