“Nell,” Cecilia began hesitantly, “were the lamps lit in the corridor outside my room last night?”
Nell frowned. “Aye, they lit me way to bed. Why do ye ask?”
Cecilia shrugged and forced a smile. “No reason. I couldn’t sleep and didn’t see the flicker of light beneath my door, and I was just curious.”
The storm must have sent a draft through the old castle and blown out the lamps.
After Nell helped her into a plain morning gown—“Blue to match yer eyes!”—Cecilia ate a quick piece of toast with her hot chocolate from the tray Nell had brought, then took a shawl and went outside. The sun was only just above the horizon, the ground glittering with autumn dew, the leaves beginning to turn orange, yellow, and red. Though the breeze was brisk, it promised to be a lovely day. She followed her usual route, one that led her past tenant farmers and the mill, the stables and outbuildings, where people knew they could speak to her if they needed to. She avoided the soggy patches left over from the storm, even as gardeners were already picking up broken twigs.
She’d no sooner left the formal gardens when she pulled up short in surprise. Lord Blackthorne, limping along with the aid of his cane, had come to a stop when he saw her. For a moment, they stared at each other beneath a glorious sun. Though he was still dressed plainly, conservatively, nothing could hide the very maleness of him. He made her far too aware of him as a man—as her husband. She couldn’t help feeling that he wanted to look at her in a more thorough manner but stopped himself. She was used to the admiration of men, but this seemed ... different, brazen, dark, with maybe a touch of possession.
She thought of Nell calling him handsome. It seemed too tame a word for him. He was too unfashionably ... large. He wasn’t wearing a coat, only his shirtsleeves and a waistcoat above his trousers, a simple cravat tied at his throat. Now she could see that he needed no padding in his clothing, that he was broad through the shoulders, even barrel-chested, yet narrow through the hips. She felt herself blushing, remembering how she’d protested when he looked at her in the same manner.
He briefly doffed his hat. “Good morning, Lady Blackthorne.”
“Good morning, Lord Blackthorne. I am surprised to find you exercising your leg. Should it not be healing?”
“Your concern is appreciated, madam, but the leg will stiffen if I don’t use it. The stronger it gets, the less I’ll need to use the cane.”
“But ... the shrapnel?”
He shrugged. “The doctors say the pieces of metal might work themselves out on their own, or they might not. I’ll just have to become used to whatever the outcome.”
She hesitated, wishing she could say she preferred to be alone but knowing she couldn’t. “I am walking toward the stables, if you’d like to join me.”
He nodded. She expected to slow her pace to accommodate him, but he moved along briskly. He had obviously been in fine physical condition before the wound, and that must stand him in good stead.
“You are going riding?” he asked.
“No, I walk every morning. The stables are simply one stop on my way. Did you plan to ride?”
“I did enough of that yesterday. It made my leg quite stiff.”
Another awkward silence grew between them. She looked into the distance, at the green rolling hills, the occasional cottage.
“I love this land,” she found herself saying. “I wasn’t born here, and we did not spend much time here at all until Oliver returned to go to Eton, when Mother and I came with him. But there is something about the place of our ancestors that calls you to do your best to maintain it.”But not Oliver,she thought with a twinge of sadness.
“I understand,” he said. “I have been improving my estate to bring it back to what it once was.”
She gave him a curious glance but didn’t feel she could question him.
He accompanied her from building to building, and she realized ruefully that in less then twenty-four hours, the news of his arrival had spread far and wide. People turned out in droves to see Lord Blackthorne, and many boldly introduced themselves. What would happen when she had the marriage invalidated? There would be a scandal, of course, but her servants knew they had not spent the night together. And Cecilia didn’t care what other people thought, she told herself.
Lord Blackthorne proved a knowledgeable man about every position on the estate; if only she could discuss things like this with Oliver. As she answered various questions the staff asked about a grain shipment to London, or which cattle had been selected to be delivered by train to market, she felt the uncomfortable stare of her husband. He watched her like a falcon watched a rabbit, intently, single-mindedly, and it was like an itch she couldn’t reach, couldn’t scratch. By midmorning, she wished he would just go away so she could feel herself again, but he followed her into Appertan Hall and right into the study, where the steward and secretary both waited. She introduced her husband to the men, and was gratified when they did not begin directing their estate questions to him, as some men might have.
She spent another two hours dealing with estate matters and correspondence, and she kept waiting for her husband to leave, but he seemed interested. Even when he was leaning on his cane, staring out the window, there was an alertness about him that kept drawing her attention. More than once, she was distracted by him and lost her train of thought. The steward and secretary shared amused glances but wiped away their smiles when she frowned at them.
At last, the two employees left, and she sat back in her chair behind the desk and met Lord Blackthorne’s contemplative gaze.
“Go ahead, say what you need to,” she said briskly.
He perched one hip on the edge of the window seat. “Tell me about Lord Appertan.”
She frowned. “I thought I already had. And surely my father spoke of him often.”
“But I want to hear your thoughts.”
She wanted to say that her brother’s life—her own—was none of his business but didn’t want to antagonize him. She had already written to her lawyers, asking about the proxy marriage and what options she had. But she had to bide her time until she received a response.
