Page 20 of A Gentleman Never Surrenders
“I’ve never been to the Cotswolds before,” Milly suddenly volunteered, and he glanced down at her in surprise. “It’s very colorful. Pepperwirth Vale is very green, but we don’t have hills and wildflowers like this.”
“And what do you think?” He looked around at the countryside, the sights so familiar to him. To her it must seem foreign and so different from the flat emerald woods of Pepperwirth Vale. He thought of everything he would show her of the Cotswolds soon, the river valleys, the high wind hills, narrow paths, and lush shires. The chain of limestone hills slanting in a thin strip from northeast to southwest. This fairyland with its wildflowers and tiny cottages and Elizabethan era charm ran deep in his blood, as deep as the rivers that ran through the valleys. This place was a part of him, more than he could explain to his new wife. It would have been easy to sell his estate and walk away, but he couldn’t sell a part of his heart. He wanted Milly to like it as much as he did. This was to be her home and he wanted her to be happy.
“It’s lovely. More lovely than I expected.”
Her reply pleased him so much that he was grinning by the time they finally reached the front gardens of Wesden Heath. The sun was hanging just above the horizon, casting a gold glow of evening light over the house and grounds.
“Let me down. I should walk to the door.” She patted his chest gently and he stopped.
“Ready?” he asked. When she nodded, he carefully let her legs drop down and then let her go, but only enough to make sure she could stand.
“Well? What do you think of it?” He waved a hand at the gray stone manor house. Ivy climbed the walls at the base and wisteria laced the bay windows of the rooms facing the front of the house during the spring and summer months. A stone fountain with a rim covered in moss was in the center of the wild, unkempt gardens. A pang of sadness struck him. There was so much that he needed to repair on the property.
“It’s…” Milly tilted her head as she studied the manor house. “It’s beautiful, but it needs a lot of work, doesn’t it?”
Owen cleared his throat. “Er…yes. Quite a bit.” He rubbed the back of his neck. A jittery sense tingled through him as they approached the house. The front door opened and a matronly woman in a black dress rushed out.
“Master Hadley, we expected you so much sooner. Where is the car?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Nelson. The cab lost a tire and we were forced to walk the last seven miles.”
The housekeeper covered her mouth. “Good heavens! Come inside at once. We will get you both settled.”
“That would be good. Mrs. Nelson, this is my wife, Mildred; Mildred, this is the housekeeper, Mrs. Nelson.”
“Welcome to Wesden Heath, Mrs. Hadley,” the housekeeper said.
“Thank you. Did my maid, Constance, arrive yesterday?” Milly inquired as she followed Mrs. Nelson inside.
“Yes, she’s all settled in,” Mrs. Nelson said.
Owen trailed behind them as he entered the front door of the house. Mr. Boyd, the butler, rushed in the hall, his cheeks ruddy, his breath heavy.
“My apologies, Mr. Hadley. We weren’t sure what time to expect you when you did not turn up this afternoon. I will have Cook prepare a meal for you and Mrs. Hadley.”
“Very good, Boyd. Send it to my chamber and we shall dine there tonight.”
“Of course, sir.” Boyd then introduced himself to Milly before he ducked out of sight, heading for the kitchens.
“Milly, let me take you to your room and get you settled. We’ll have a quick dinner upstairs tonight.” Owen crooked his elbow out and she slid her arm through his.
As they walked up the stairs, he tried not to think about the state of the worn carpets and dusty bannisters. When Milly’s gloved hand brushed against the wood, it came away with a smudge of grime. He had never been ashamed of his home before, but in that moment, he was.
The daughter of a viscount was used to something better than his. What could she think of him and Wesden? The grounds and house were in need of so much care. If she didn’t love Wesden, then she wouldn’t be happy, and an unhappy Milly meant the shrewish temperament might return. It was not a prospect he looked forward to.
He paused in front of a bedroom, the one he’d directed to be prepared for her a week after their marriage plans had been announced in the banns. It was a few rooms away from his own chamber, which at the time had seemed not nearly far enough away. At first he’d been relieved that custom dictated a wife would have her own bedchamber. But now…now he wished they had connecting rooms, ones that made them feel more like man and wife.
People who shared their lives together usually came to care about each other. His parents had kept separate rooms and they had been able to avoid each other. He’d assumed he might face that possibility with Milly, but…not anymore. He wanted an intimate marriage, not just physically but emotionally. He’d never been one to live a lonely life and he wasn’t about to start now. Owen had a sneaking suspicion that Milly might be amenable to it, too, if he could keep stealing kisses and find a way to melt the icy walls around her warm heart.
He wanted her to be close. It was a damnably foolish notion to crave her nearness, to ache to take her to bed, but he did. Even when she pushed him away, she fascinated him. Milly was a tightly wound bundle of contradictions that made little sense to him, and he had the strongest desire to spend the rest of his life untangling the mystery of who she really was. Temptress or shrew?
“These are your rooms. Your lady’s maid should have her own chambers in the servants’ hall. If either of you have need of anything, there are bells, of course. Mr. Boyd and Mrs. Nelson can see to anything you require.” He opened the door to Milly’s room. Constance was already inside, waiting patiently by the bed. Milly’s shoulders relaxed visibly and she smiled for the first time in hours.
“Constance.” The one word, so full of relief on her lips, made his chest ache. He rubbed at the spot with one hand but dropped it when she turned back around to face him.
“Thank you, Owen. I should like to have some time alone after our journey.” She was glancing about the room, avoiding his gaze.
“Are you sure? I’d be happy to help you settle in,” he offered. The thought of her pulling away from him after everything they had shared made him feel hollow. He didn’t want to live with a stranger for the rest of his life. He’d rather have her spitting mad and railing at him for something thoughtless he’d said about her books than have her ignoring him.
