Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Yet, they made me feel better on some level I could not identify. And he seemed to regard me with respect and perhaps a little admiration.
I knew I admired him. He was rakishly handsome. I loved the way he wore his hair—far too long to be fashionable, yet I sensed he cared not a whit for others’ opinions. It suited him, and I wondered how he would look with it loose. I could see the waves in the thick brown strands, and I felt the urge to touch them and ascertain if they were as soft as they appeared to be. He smelled of fresh air and cut grass—rich and lush in the sun. I couldn’t stop staring at his broad shoulders, the sheer size of him dwarfing me.
Yet I was not afraid to be alone with him.
But…marriage? To me?
Why would he desire such a thing? I was certain he could have any woman he set his eyes on.
I was nothing. A nobody. A discarded daughter of a baron who was cruel and unjust. Disliked and unrespected by many. I had heard the other servants talk. Caught whispers of the many rumors of his debts and dishonor. Deep in my own heart, I was embarrassed to be associated with him and grateful I was only thought of as a servant by most people.
Why would Lord Wheaton want me?
A knock brought me from my confused thoughts, and I crossed the room, opening the door. Mrs. Dougall bustled in, fabric draped over her arm, a small bundle clutched in the other.
She laid the fabric on the bed, and I gasped when I saw what it was.
A pretty gown. Not only one. Four of them that she spread out on the mattress, then stepped back with a satisfied smile and a nod. From the bundle, she produced a smart pair of nankeen walking boots, a night rail, and some underpinnings. A proper hairbrush and a set of lovely combs.
“I believe these will fit well enough for now,” she informed me.
“I don’t understand.”
She patted the closest gown. “Lord Wheaton asked me to get you some proper-fitting clothing. The dressmaker in the village had a lady come through and order some pieces for her daughter but never returned for them. They looked to me as if they would suit for the time being.”
I blinked, running my hand over the fabric. The gloves covering my skin prevented me from feeling the soft material, but I could see they were lovely pieces. Simple but well made, with beautiful stitching and lace. I caught sight of a soft pink walking gown trimmed with passementerie at the hem, complete with a matching spencer, and a pale-jonquil muslin day gown that was spare of trimmings and perfect for the country. There was even a riding habit in Pomona green. The last one was an evening gown of deep celestial blue, stunning in the vividness of the color. It was more elegant, yet still refined, the bodice ornamented with embroidered rosebuds. I loved every single one.
“I added these as well, child,” she murmured, handing me a pair of the softest kid gloves I had ever beheld in an ivory color trimmed in a rich brown. “The master said you always wear gloves. These are lighter than what I think you have and would be more comfortable.”
I stared down at the gifts laid out before me. I had been still a child the last time I was given a new dress to wear. My own boots. Fresh underpinnings.
I looked around the room, the rose-covered walls feminine and elegant. The comfortable bed and the large armchair where I could soak up the heat of the fire that was banked low at the moment. The long and beautifully scented bath I had been allowed to relax in at my leisure earlier. I could scarcely believe all this was happening.
“Am I dreaming?” I whispered.
Mrs. Dougall smiled. “I think perhaps, my dear, you are finally waking up from a long, bad dream.”
I caught my lip in my teeth, worrying the flesh. I met her eyes, and she nodded slightly, seeing my question.
“Ask me,” she instructed.
“Have you known Lord Wheaton a long time?”
“Yes. I came here as a maid in my young years. He was a lad. Eventually, he became the marquess and made me his housekeeper. My husband is the head gardener and keeps a small cottage on the property, and I join him there when I’m able. We are fortunate Lord Wheaton has made an exception for us.”
I knew how rare it was for a housekeeper to marry, let alone live at the same estate as her husband. It was another example of the marquess’s generosity of spirit, and I was heartened by Mrs. Dougall’s revelations.
“Is he—is he a good man?” I asked, my heart thumping in my chest so loudly, I was certain she could hear it.