Page 25 of The Earl and His Lady

The footman served her efficiently and stepped away, just as another servant stepped forward to fill her teacup. They had already begun to memorize her preferences, he knew, and it pleased him that she accepted the attention as a matter of course.

Lucas watched as she read, not even trying to disguise it, as the contents of a letter from her brother-in-law must naturally be suspect. Watching the color drain from her face, leaving her a shade that nearly matched her dress, made his stomach clench. He almost stood. He almost went to her.

But he waited. Despite their marriage, they were still little better than acquaintances.

She looked up. “This was written before he was informed, I think. He demands to wait upon me and will be arriving at the Gilberts’ home tomorrow.”

“We ought to warn them.”

She stared at him. “That is the first thing you can think to say?” Her tone was not upset, only surprised.

Lucas shrugged and sat back in his chair, hoping he looked as calm as he meant to. “I see no harm in his visit. Not anymore. Your sons are safe here, as my wards. The paperwork has already been completed by my solicitor and your very considerate barrister. He will come, we will inform him of what has occurred, and he will leave. Unless you wish to invite him to stay?”

Virginia shook her head. “I risk sounding petty, but I would not want him as a guest under any roof where I resided. He made the last weeks of the baron’s time more difficult. They never got on. Mr. Macon is a bitter man, I’m afraid.”

“Then he will not be a guest here. There is an inn down the road where he will do very well, if necessary.” He nodded to her plate. “Your eggs are getting cold, Virginia.”

“I’m afraid I’m not very hungry anymore.”

He frowned. She hardly ever ate more than a few mouthfuls of anything. Did that account for the sharpness of her features? Had she always been thus?

“As you wish, of course, but I have it on good authority that Cook is doing her best to impress you.” He gestured with his chin to one of the footmen. “She has made the most delightful French pastries you’ve ever seen.”

The footman took up a serving tray and brought it forward, allowing Virginia to see the sampling of iced, stuffed, and custarded pastries.

Virginia hesitated, looking from her pitiful plate of eggs to the pastries. She finally took one, and though it was tiny he counted it a victory.

He well remembered the weeks after Abigail’s death. He hadn’t wanted to touch food. His appetite had fled completely and it was not until his worried brother brought his attention to the problem that Lucas had realized it. His valet had been taking in the waists of his trousers, without saying a word.

Virginia needed her health and strength, and as her husband he would see both restored to her.

“What have you planned to do today?” he asked, trying to distract her from the letter and the fact that she was nibbling on a pastry. “I have my suggestions, of course. The boys were all over the grounds with Nurse Smythe yesterday, but you’ve yet to see more than the gardens. Would you care for a tour?”

She smiled around a bite of pastry and swallowed before shaking her head. “I am conducting interviews today with the staff. I want to understand how the household works before I attempt to lead my army.”

“A good plan. Gresham and Mrs. Hail will be happy to help. Gresham has been here for as long as I have memory.” Lucas put extra cheer into his words as he continued. “Perhaps you will allow me to take you on a tour tomorrow, after Mr. Macon intrudes upon us?”

Though her eyes did not look entirely convinced, Virginia nodded. “As you wish, my lord.”

“Virginia,” he said her name with a put-upon sigh. “Please. Call me Lucas. I hear my lord dozens of times a day, but rarely my own name.”

She laughed, surprising him. The short burst of amusement gave him hope she was not always staid and proper. Virginia covered the laugh with her hand. “I am sorry, Lucas. You reminded me of myself with that comment.”

Lucas raised one eyebrow and leaned forward, folding his hands beneath his chin. “Do tell, Virginia. You cannot leave it at that.”

Her eyes lowered to her plate and she lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It is nothing important. After Edward had started talking, he must’ve said Mama a hundred times a day. Phillip, too. And the servants called me my lady. Charles had gone away for a fortnight and when he returned, he did not say my name once for the first hour he was home. I finally begged him to do so, that I might hear it. I’d missed being Virginia those weeks he was away.” Her eyes darted up, meeting his gaze, and then lowered again. “I’m sorry. It must seem I am forever talking of before—”

“I don’t mind.” He couldn’t let her regret her feelings. Could anyone understand them better than he? “You need never be concerned that bringing up Charles will do any harm to me or our conversation.”

Virginia nodded, not looking at him again. She took her last bite of pastry and then tapped her napkin to her lips. She turned her attention to the footman nearest her, who continued looking stoically ahead. “Please give Cook my compliments. It was a delicious puff pastry, as light as air.” Then she stood. “Excuse me. I had better write the Gilberts.”

“Of course.” He stood and watched her leave the room, then looked over his silent row of footmen. They did excellent impersonations of marble statues, but he wondered what the servants made of the relationship between him and their new countess.

He took himself away rather than stay to contemplate the idea. He had his own correspondence to see to.

¤

Virginia paced the length of the upstairs parlor. It was a comfortable place, spacious, decorated in gentle blues and ivory-hued furniture. She immediately felt at ease in such a soothing environment. But not at the moment. Nothing could’ve set her at ease, really, given the impending visit of her brother-in-law. She’d hardly slept the night before, for worrying over what she would say to him.