Page 53 of The Earl and His Lady

The driveway was not long, and Heatherton Hall sat nestled among tall hedges and little else. It was constructed entirely of gray stone, with a multitude of small, white-pane windows. It reminded him of castles he’d seen, ruins really, built when English land was forever being conquered by invaders and neighbors alike. But it was handsome, for all that it was imposing.

“It’s impressive,” Lucas said.

“It’s an old pile of stone.” He looked to see her smiling, though her face had lost some of its color. “But there have been improvements made to it in the last few decades. It is comfortable and will make Phillip a fine home someday.”

The carriage slowed to a stop and a footman appeared to open the door.

Lucas stepped out first, nodding his thanks to the servant, then reached up to help Virginia down. He turned with her hand in his, facing a small row of servants. The expressions on their faces ranged from indifferent to curious. Randal and Virginia’s maid were part of their ranks and neither of them looked particularly pleased either.

This will be interesting. Lucas barely kept the frown off his face. He would follow Virginia’s lead. This was her home and Phillip’s inheritance. He would help where asked and remain silent on the rest.

Virginia greeted the head servants, introducing him.

“My lord, I have a few things to discuss with the housekeeper, if you would prefer to go freshen up?” Virginia met his eyes, her smile gone and her lips thin.

“Of course, my lady.” He gestured for Randal to lead him into the house, paying no mind to the other servants. In a matter of minutes, they had crossed the dark stone floors of the entryway, gone up the floating staircase, and down a hall carpeted in red. Very little light entered the hall, with only a window at the very end of it. Randal opened a door leading into a bedroom decorated in blues and greens.

The moment the door shut behind him, Lucas took his hat off and tossed it into a chair near a small hearth. “Out with it, Randal,” he said, already stripping off his gloves. “Something has upset you and I want to hear what it is.”

Randal cleared his throat and retrieved the hat. “It isn’t my place to say anything, my lord.”

“Hang your place. That was the most unpleasant looking line of servants I’ve ever seen and you look like you’ve swallowed salt water.” Lucas thrust his gloves out to his valet, fixing the servant with his narrow-eyed glare. “What ails the household?”

Randal took the gloves and walked to a tall bureau in the corner, carefully laying the hat on top and placing the gloves in a drawer. His movements were stiffer than normal.

“You are in the guest wing, my lord.”

Lucas thought that over a moment. “And the countess?”

“Her old room, in the family wing.” The valet’s cool tone conveyed little emotion but plenty of disapproval. “And I am uncertain as to who determined the arrangements, whether it was my lady the countess or the housekeeper, Mrs. Thackery.”

He was a guest. His wife still the mistress. Interesting. If it was the housekeeper’s doing, she showed a distinct lack of respect for him and her mistress. If it was Virginia’s—

“It is best not to take offense, Randal. One room is very much like another, and we are here only a matter of days. Now, help me clean up for luncheon.”

Randal nodded and said no more on the subject, but the valet’s expression said he thought plenty.

By the time Lucas left his chambers in search of the dining room, tension had entered his body and shoulders. He descended to the first floor and found a footman standing as sentry in the hall. The stone-faced young man led him to the dining room.

A cold lunch was spread upon the table, but Virginia was nowhere to be seen yet. Lucas looked at the food with some longing, his stomach reminding him he hadn’t eaten since he’d woken that morning. He walked to one of the windows, facing out into a gravel path disappearing between two tall hedges. The gray stone contrasted against the greenery.

Did any colors besides green and gray exist at Heatherton?

The door to the dining room opened. Lucas dropped his hands to his side and turned to face his wife. Her eyes snapped in a manner he’d only seen once before, when he’d upset her with the boys in the rain, and her posture vibrated with agitation.

“Virginia?” He stepped nearer her without hesitation, almost reaching out but resisting that impulse. Instead he met her at the head of the table, only needing to take a few strides to reach it.

She reached out and grasped the top of the chair, her green eyes full of sparks. “I am sorry, Lucas. I’m not sure what happened. I instructed that we both have rooms prepared for us, but apparently I was misunderstood. I meant for two rooms in the family wing to be prepared. I specified that the baron’s room was to remain untouched, but somehow—”

Lucas put his hand over hers, on the chair. Neither of them wore gloves and the contact sent a current into his arm and directly to his heart. Years of training, of subjecting himself to the scrutiny of the ton and Parliament, kept him from giving any hint at the sudden jolt.

“It’s of no matter, Virginia. My room is pleasant and well-appointed. If it was a mistake, it isn’t a fatal one. We will not be here long.”

Still, the fact that she hadn’t made the arrangements eased his mind.

Virginia’s shoulders slumped and she dropped her eyes to look somewhere below his chin as she spoke. “I don’t think the staff quite approves of me at present. There have been other things that speak of resentment on their part.”

Lucas removed his hand from hers and reached out to touch just beneath her chin, barely grazing her skin. His chest tightened when her eyes darted upward, meeting his with a measure of surprise.