Page 84 of Counting on a Countess
It came from the door.
She slid out of bed and threw on a robe. Clutching the silk around her body, she hurried to the door and cracked it open to reveal Nessa’s concerned face.
Instantly, Tamsyn’s irritation vanished. Anxiety prickled along her arms. “What is it?”
“The shipment,” Nessa whispered. “It’s here.”
Any lingering feelings of love-struck peace clinging to Tamsyn disappeared. She snapped to attention. “I’ll be down in five minutes.”
After Nessa nodded, Tamsyn quietly shut the door. She turned back to look at the bed, where Kit continued to slumber. Praying that he was a heavy sleeper, she padded as silently as possible around the chamber, gathering up her clothes and hastily dressing.
This was not how she wanted to spend the morning after discovering that she’d developed powerful feelings for her husband and finally making love with him.
Tamsyn gave him one last enraptured look, then slipped out of her room. She sped down the stairs and through the house, going down another flight of steps to reach the basement.
Hurrying into Mr. Stockton’s pantry, she saw Nessa waiting with Liam and Dennis.
The butler stood as she entered. “My lady. I believe your items have arrived.”
“Do any of the other servants know?” Tamsyn demanded.
“I told them the delivery was for his lordship’s cellar.”
“Very good,” she said with a nod. “I’ll speak to Fred. Liam and Dennis, follow me.”
With the footmen trailing after her, Tamsyn exited the back door. It opened to the mews, where Fred Wren stood with a hay-filled wagon. The tall Cornishman’s shoulders sagged with relief to see her.
Even though she missed a familiar face from home, this was no time for reunions. She approached him and asked briskly, “You’ve brought the harvest?”
In response, he moved aside some of the hay, revealing that the damp mass was only a few inches deep. Beneath it were wooden boards. Fred tugged off a slat to uncover a sizable space full of small casks.
“And the rest?” she pressed.
He pulled a basket down from behind the driver’s seat. Apples lay at the very top of the basket, and under the apples were several bolts of Chantilly lace.
Tamsyn nodded in approval. She turned to the waiting footmen. “Take these and put them in the storeroom. Be quick,” she added.
As the servants hurried to follow her directions, she handed five pound notes to the driver. “You shouldn’t have left Newcombe without being summoned,” she said, “but you did, and that’s behind us. The five pounds is for your trouble.”
He blushed with embarrassment and tugged on the brim of his hat. “Thank’ee, Miss Tamsyn.”
She didn’t bother telling Fred that she was Lady Blakemere now—she knew him too well to stand on ceremony.
While Liam and Dennis unloaded the wagon, Tamsyn supervised, directing the footmen to minimize stacking the casks too tall so the ankers would be easier to move quickly. The basket of lace was stashed in a corner. Finally, the emptied wagon drove off, presumably heading back to Cornwall.
Tamsyn addressed Liam, Dennis, and Mr. Stockton as Nessa looked on. “We’ll be moving the merchandise in the next few days. In the meantime, none of you can breathe a word of this to anybody. Not your friends, your family, or the pie man who sells you your breakfast. The merest whisper to my husband would be disastrous. He’s a veteran, and will be furious if he learns of us subverting the Crown. Should anyone get wind of what we’re doing here, each and every one of us could be transported. At the very least, you won’t see a cent from the profits. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, my lady,” the three men chorused.
“Very good.” She exhaled. “Excellent work today.” She nodded at Nessa before sweeping past them and making her way upstairs.
Later today, she was going to have to ask Kit if she could take a brief sojourn to Cornwall to tie up loose ends—namely, buying Chei Owr. Much as she needed to undertake that journey, the thought of leaving him now, when things were so good between them, caused a throb of pain to press down on her.
After she shut the door to the basement stairs behind her, she turned and collided with something warm and solid.
“There you are,” Kit said. He was partially dressed, several of the buttons on his waistcoat undone and his neckcloth missing. His uncombed hair stood up in unruly patches.
She summoned a smile as her heartbeat struggled to return to a normal pace. “Good morning.”
