The smile she gave him was more than reward for his forethought. His heart gave a little skip, which was ridiculous, because there was no reason for him to be giddy that he’d delighted her. But he found his heart tended to pound faster when he knew he’d done some small thing that pleased her.
“Well, I couldn’t leave that portrait as it was. My nose must be fixed.” He looked back at the keep, pretending his gesture was one of selfishness. In reality, he didn’t give a fig about the portrait and his nose.
Well, maybe half a fig.
“I’ll fix your nose as well, husband,” she said.
And there was another thing that made his heart hop. She’d taken to calling himhusbandnow and then. He’d never really pictured himself as a husband, but he liked the endearment—for that was how he took it—more than he’d thought he would. Heliked being a husband. Not that he’d done much so far, except bed his wife and arrange for them to travel to a decaying keep.
“Let’s see the guardhouse,” he said. “Then we’ll know whether we stay here or travel into town.” He turned back toward the coach, but she pulled him away.
“Let’s walk,” she said. “The day is fine, and my legs could use the activity.”
Henry liked that idea. He could think of nothing better than walking with Katie at his side. He turned and gave the coachman directions to meet him at the guardhouse. Then he offered his arm and led Katie across the grass and up the hill slightly.
The guardhouse was on the other side of the hill, the side facing the border with Scotland. They’d traveled south from Gretna Green and then around from the west. Now the coach went ahead of them, and they walked slightly east. Katie lifted her skirts as they moved uphill. “No wonder knights built castles on hills,” she said, turning to look out over the landscape. “Who would want to charge up here to attack? Goodness, that’s lovely.” She shaded her eyes to better admire the view.
He looked out over the land as well.Hisland. Land he couldn’t gamble away, and no one, save the Crown, could take it from him. It was lovely—craggy and rough in places, but rolling with green and dotted with flowers in others.
“That looks like a farm,” she said, pointing toward a plowed field. Further in the distance, Henry could make out what looked like a trail of smoke, possibly from a cottage.
“We’ll investigate tomorrow,” he said. “The guardhouse is just over there.”
They walked on, and Katie paused as they came upon the low stone structure that had first served as a guardhouse and then been turned into a ducal residence. “You said the fourth Duchess of Carlisle chose to make this her home?”
“As I understand it, the keep was already in disrepair when the fourth duchess came to live here. She made improvements to the guardhouse over the course of her lifetime. Since then it has been expanded, and only that section in the middle”—he pointed to the stone around the doorway—“is original.”
“It’s charming,” she said, and her voice held a hushed tone of reverence.
Katie had a way of choosing the perfect word. The housewascharming. In his memory, the mix of old and new stone on the first floor looked shabby, but perhaps he was now seeing it through her artist’s eye. The stones complemented each other, especially as blooming vines crept up some of the stones and pink and purple trumpet-shaped flowers blossomed against the structure. The second story was newer and smaller than the first, but it had several windows, which, if memory served, provided extensive views of the countryside. Why had he never wanted to live here?
That was answered easily enough. He didn’t like the distance from London and the gaming tables. But he might have come to visit.
The door opened, and a middle-aged woman with her hair in a bun and a crisp white apron stepped out. “Your Grace! Welcome home.” She had an accent that was somewhere between English and Scottish, and her curtsey was efficient but elegant.
“Er—thank you? You must be…”
Katie was looking at him, but Henry had no idea who this woman was. He was fairly certain he’d never seen her before in his life.
“Och, I’m Mrs. Yeatman. I’m the niece of Mrs. Ware.”
“Of course. Er—who is Mrs. Ware?”
“She was the housekeeper. She kept the place in fine form, too, but she passed away, oh, seven or eight years ago now. Ihave been tending the house since then. Your mother wrote to say you were coming.” She curtseyed again, this time to Katie. “Best wishes on your nuptials, Your Grace.”
“Thank you,” Katie answered. “I can imagine your work here has been lonely with the family away so long.”
“At times,” Mrs. Yeatman said, “but Lady Jane stopped in two years ago on her way to Edinburgh, and we have the odd traveler here and there in need of refuge for the night.”
“Would you mind showing us around, Mrs. Yeatman?” Henry said. “My bride and I would prefer to stay here tonight, if that’s possible.”
“Och, more than possible. I put clean sheets on the bed and beat all the rugs. Your mother’s letter gave me notice.”
Of course, his mother had anticipated everything.
“There’s nae cook,” Mrs. Yeatman continued. “There’s only my daughter Maisie to help me with the cleaning. I’m afraid you’ll need to hire more staff if you intend to stay.”
Henry didn’t have the funds to hire more staff. He was rather wondering how Mrs. Yeatman was being paid. But he had paid his coachman and outriders for the quarter. They could be of use. “You should make use of my outriders. They can act as footmen for the time being.”
