Page 112 of Lords, Ladies and Love

“Yes, I can see that.” Indeed, it was as though five years had not even passed. If it were not for this sudden flourish into womanhood from Miss Jameson, he would think it had been mere months. Everything looked just as it was.

“You have had a long journey. No doubt you are tired. Let us get back to the house and I shall change, and I can appraise you of all that has been happening.”

“All that has been happening,” he echoed.

“Well, nothing drastic. But I have had to make a few changes. The wallpaper in the drawing room was peeling, for example. We had it decorated beautifully with silk. And, of course, a few of the furnishings needed to be changed due to age. Oh, you might recall we also had that little leak in the roof. That was repaired a few months ago. Mr. Stanton no doubt detailed all this in his letters to you.”

“Yes…” he said vaguely.

If he was honest, he had hardly paid attention to the letters from Mr. Stanton. If the house crumbled, he could not bring himself to care. Though he should. Eastbrook had been in the family for hundreds of years, and it was his duty to ensure that it remained standing for another hundred more. He peered at Miss Jameson as they walked back to the house, who was apparently oblivious as to her sodden and far too revealing state and rather too excited to have him back. He could not fathom why.

Theo followed her into the house, averting his gaze from her rear as they made their way up the steps. He curled his fists and blew out a heated breath. This was going to be a long two months.

Chapter Three

The butler would kill her, but Lucy could not resist tweaking the cutlery ever so slightly. Everything had to be perfect. Of course, Mr. Barnes would say that everything was perfect. But everything had to bebetterthan perfect.

Now that the marquis was home, she had to show what a fine job she had been doing. Over the past five years she had been living alone here, she had gradually taken on more and more duties until she was practically the mistress of the house. It had been no easy task to take on a household as big as this, but she had loved the challenge. Every day there was something new with this grand old house.

The housekeeper would tell her that the experience would be good for her—that her future husband would be grateful that she could manage things so efficiently. Lucy tried not to think about that. She never wanted to leave this house. Even if it meant marrying and gaining a house of her own.

As far as she was concerned, this washerhouse. She knew every inch of it, every fleck of missing paint, every gilded mirror, every face that looked down upon her from the paintings and portraits. It might not be her family home, but it was all she had known since she was thirteen. This had been the house that she had become a woman in.

So, it was so important that Lord Eastbrook knew she had been taking care of it.

Lucy paced back and forth a few times in front of the window, pausing to peer out of the gardens to check that the gardeners were trimming the hedges just so. There were no footmen in the room, but the butler would return to serve them as soon as the marquis made an appearance. With just her, and occasionally her friends at this house, there had been no need for a large amount of staff to look after her. Eastbrook housed around forty servants. Still a generous amount, but the building was big and needed every hand.

The time alone in the breakfast room was too much time to think. Too much time to worry. What if he felt she had not done a good enough job? What if he thought her a fool? If only she had noticed him sooner, she could have escaped the pond and dashed back in the house and made herself entirely presentable. As it was, he probably thought her some silly girl for swimming in the pond. Oh Lord, she really needed him to see her as something else.

Pressing hands to her stomach, she took a deep breath and willed away the butterflies that set about in her stomach. She was not a girl anymore. And that meant no more childish infatuations. When she had arrived at Eastbrook, she had been overawed by the golden-haired marquis. He always had a ready smile and a kind word for the marchioness. Though it had been Lady Eastbrook who offered to take her in when her parents died, it had been the marquis who really had an impact on her—even if she had only been with him for a year.

Anyway, those thoughts belonged in the past. They belonged with her youth. Yes, she still wanted to impress him, but all she wanted was for him to know that she had been looking after his house with diligence and care.

And if he realized that, she had to hope he would not think to remove her from here. Everyone knew she was of an age to make a debut. Her lady’s maid would not cease speaking of it.The marquis’s sudden return home had everyone gossiping, and most assumed his arrival here was for her.

That perhaps, just perhaps, he had a husband in mind for her.

Lord, she hoped not.

She glanced at the mantelpiece clock. She expected the marquis to arrive early and thus had been up since the early hours. An important man like him would surely attack the day early. She herself tended to rise as early as she could to get on with the day’s tasks. And yet, he had still not had breakfast.

Another thirty minutes passed and still no sign of the marquis. Lucy huffed, eyed the perfectly set table and the food awaiting them on the side, and huffed again. She should be hungry, but her stomach was still a bunch of knots.

She stepped out of the room and looked up and down the corridor. The butler would know where he was. Or if he was still abed. But Mr. Barnes was nowhere to be seen. One of the maids came down the stairs at the end of the corridor, and Lucy hastened over. “Have you seen the marquis? Is he still abed?”

“Oh no, miss.” She gestured with her free hand down near the corridor. “I believe he’s in the study.”

Lucy scowled. She knew this was his house, and he could do whatever he pleased, but she would have thought he would know to have breakfast before he started doing anything else. Striding along the corridor, she did not think to knock on the door prior to barreling into the study.

She stilled in the doorway. His hair looked as though it had not yet been combed, and he wore only a shirt and presumably breeches beneath the desk. There was no cravat, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up. She forgot how to breathe. Five years had deepened the creases on his face, bringing about little lines around his eyes and one between his brows. There were slight flecks of white at his temples that could only be spottedin certain lights. She could see them now with the daylight streaming in through the window behind him.

“Lucy?”

“Yes?” The word came out slightly raspy. Though she was his ward, he rarely called her by her first name. She did not know if he noticed the slip, but she certainly had. So had her heart. It suddenly went to racing at the speed of galloping horses.

“Did you want something?”

“Oh yes.” Lucy pressed a hand briefly to her pounding heart. “It is just…well…have you eaten yet? You see, we have breakfast all ready for you. I assumed you would be hungry after yesterday’s journey. And you hardly ate a thing last night.”

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