Page 81 of A Lady's Heart Deceived
“Richmond. We have a small manor house there. It’s a modest country retreat. My parents are not ones for town and all the crowds. It’s where they usually stay, but for the next few days it is completely ours.”
Now Maggie understood why her luggage had not been sent to Denford House. Piers had arranged for it to go to their secret honeymoon home.
The carriage turned left off the main road which led to the village of Richmond. Maggie knew her way around this part of outer London, but she couldn’t recall having ever been down this road. They passed by what was clearly a gatehouse, but it was of such a grand stature it could easily be a manor house.
I can’t wait to see inside.
Maggie pulled out of Piers’s embrace, expecting the carriage to stop. But it continued on. Piers gently laughed. “The head butler and chatelaine live there. Keep watching the road ahead, my love.”
She did as he instructed. Her mouth dropped open at the sight which loomed up in front of them as they crested a small rise. It was an enormous red-brick, Jacobean manor house. Maggie pressed her face to the glass. As the carriage swept up the drive which ran across the front of the house, she quickly counted the windows. Nine, plus two three-windowed bays. The house rose over four floors.
“Now I understand why you were not daunted by the size of Kenilworth Castle. It’s a small palace,” she said.
“Not quite. And before you ask, no, I have no idea how many rooms there are under the main roof. All the Denford children tried counting them one year, but we kept losing the tally. There are more bedrooms than we could ever need, even if we are as blessed as the King and Queen when it comes to children,” said Piers.
Maggie shot him a glare. “Don’t you dare get me with fifteen children. I shall have the door of my bedroom nailed shut if the count goes past eight.”
He pulled her back into his arms, placing a tender, inviting kiss on her lips. “I make no promises, apart from one—you and I shall never have separate bedrooms. Where I sleep, so do you.”
What a wonderful idea. She couldn’t wait to spend the rest of her life sharing her nights with this man, ending each day tucked up in bed with Piers and forever knowing that he was hers.
She was still considering the daunting prospect of a large brood of children when the coach finally came to a stop out the front of the grand manor house. The small army of servants who were gathered around the steps, promptly stood to attention.
Modest country retreat, my foot.
“I assumed that when I saw Denford House, you were a family used to understated elegance. Now, I realize it’s all a myth. You let people in town think that you are poor country mice when you have this splendor right on the outskirts of London.”
“The Grange came to our family, your family, as part of my mother’s marriage settlements. It now belongs to me, but I have always shared it with anyone who wishes to stay. It’s where we can have the best of both worlds—a beautiful garden for our children to play in, while we are still close to town.”
“And it’s near to my parents. Fulham Palace is only a short distance from here. Oh, Piers, this place is perfect.”
Piers pulled the blanket away. The moment the footman opened the door, Piers climbed out. Maggie followed, grinning as her husband spread his arms wide and lifted her down. She was still smiling as he carried her up the steps, through the front door, and across the threshold. The servants followed at a respectable distance.
It was wonderful that Piers was determined to observe all the wedding traditions for the bride’s arrival at her new home.
He thinks of everything.
“Now you are officially Lady Woodford of the Grange,” he announced, setting Maggie on her feet.
Her wedding slippers touched the hard, marble flooring, and she glanced down. Elegant lines of gold and amber stretched across the foyer. The walls that they eventually touched were painted a rich burgundy.
Maggie lifted her gaze up past the giant tapestry of a hunting scene all the way to the ornately decorated ceiling. Now she understood why Piers hadn’t been overwhelmed at the sight of the grand ballroom at Strathmore House when she had first shown it to him. While not as stunning, the Grange could certainly hold its own.
“It’s wonderful,” gushed Maggie. She stepped away and, lifting her skirts, gave an impromptu twirl. Happiness made her light of foot and eager to dance.
It’s been forever since I felt this happy.
“Come, let me show you the rest of the house,” said Piers.
Maggie slowly shook her head. “Not now. Later, perhaps.” She pointed to the white marble staircase which led up to the next floor. Moving in close so only he could hear, she whispered, “The only place I am keen to see is our bedroom. I want us to be alone. You still haven’t claimed what I was willing to give you that night in the barn.”
A blushing Piers cleared his throat. “Right. The guided tour can wait. You, clearly, cannot.”
He scooped her up in his arms and headed for the stairs.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Once upstairs, he carried her along a long hallway that was also decorated with various paintings and tapestries. Maggie didn’t bother to look too closely at any of them. Instead, her focus was solely on trying to keep her nerves from getting the better of her.
