“Your intended, Julian? Oh, this is exciting. Welcome, Miss Benoît, I’m delighted to meet you.”
“I may have been a trifle premature,” Julian admitted, intercepting a stern look from Zoë. “She hasn’t exactly agreed yet.”
His sister frowned. “But you’ve brought her here, unchaperoned?”
“Yes, I kidnapped her.”
His sister widened her eyes at him for a moment, then gave a merry peal of laughter. “Oh, Julian, you’re incorrigible. Miss Benoît, you’re not distressed by this, are you? You don’t look distressed.”
“Annoyed, perhaps, but not in the least distressed,” Zoë assured her. “Thank you for your warm welcome, Lady Strangham, and I’m very sorry to have inconvenienced you.”
She waved that away. “It’s no inconvenience at all, I assure you. I love having visitors.”
“You haven’t heard the worst of it yet,” Zoë said dryly. “Not realizing I was to be kidnapped, I brought nothing with me, just the contents of my reticule—a handkerchief and a few shillings.”
Lady Strangham blinked, then laughed again. “Oh, how typical. Aren’t men hopeless?”
“He seems to think you won’t mind lending me whatever I need.”
“I don’t, of course, but whether I have anything to fit you is another matter. Perhaps some of my dresses from before my recent confinement will do, though they will have to be let down.” She linked arms with Zoë. “Come inside and tell me all about it. And please, call me Dot. When people call me Lady Strangham, I always think they’re addressing my mother-in-law.”
She led Zoë into the house and called for refreshments to be served in twenty minutes. Two small boys came racing down the stairs, paying Zoë scant attention but hurling themselves joyfully at Uncle Julian, who swung the smallest one onto his shoulders and dangled the giggling older boy upside down for a moment before setting him on his feet again.
A nursemaid stood on the landing, halfway up the stairs, holding a squalling bundle in her arms.
“Oh dear, Bessie is hungry again,” Dot exclaimed. “Do you mind?”
Slightly bewildered, Zoë said, “Not at all.”
“Oh good, come with me, then. Julian can look after the boys. Boys, take Uncle Julian out to wherever your papa is. He will want to look over the farm. Perhaps you could start with the pigs.” She darted a mischievous glance at her brother and laughed at his resigned expression as two small boys grabbed his hands and began towing him to the piggery.
“Come along.” Dot took Zoë upstairs with her, and they followed the nursemaid into what was clearly the nursery. Dot started unfastening the front of her dress at once and said over the deafening sound of the tiny bundle’s displeasure, “I’m feeding her myself, you see. I know it’s terribly unfashionable and unladylike, and that I ought to employ a wet nurse, but I don’t care. I love it.” She sat in a chair, facing slightly away from Zoë, and took the baby. There was sudden, blissful silence. “Now,” she said chattily, “tell me all about you and my scapegrace brother.”
Which Zoë did. Relating her story to Julian’s very receptive and warmhearted sister made her realize that somehow, their discussion of her fears had somehow settled them. And that what she wanted, more than anything in the world, was to be with him for the rest of her life.
Watching Dot with her sweet little baby daughter, she was also aware of a pang of envy. One day she wanted this for herself, too.
By the end of the day, Zoë felt almost as if she were already part of the family. Dot was lively, sympathetic and welcoming. Her husband was a tall, quiet man, quite content to let his wife take the conversational lead, unless it concerned farming, about which he was endearingly enthusiastic. The two of them were still clearly in love.
The children, too, were lively and happy. The boys hadfirmly attached themselves to their uncle and begged that he come up and tell them a story before they went to sleep. Uncle Julian’s stories wereamaaaazing, they assured her. Zoë had no difficulty believing it, but she didn’t go upstairs to join them.
Somehow her mind had settled. Julian was going to be her husband. She would accept his proposal tonight if they ever had a moment alone.
She had decided, and yet she was absurdly nervous.
She was fairly quiet during supper, which, luckily, wasn’t particularly noticeable, as Julian and Dot were both very talkative. From time to time she felt his eyes resting on her, a question in them.
Finally it was time for bed. Dot accompanied Zoë upstairs to help get her settled in. Her maid had sorted out some clothing for Zoë, including a warm, long-sleeved nightgown in white flannel. Her bedchamber was cozy, with a fire burning in the grate and a large four-poster bed. Dot bustled around, closing the curtains and ensuring Zoë had warm water in which to wash, tooth powder and a toothbrush and anything else she might need, including books and a maid.
“Our bedroom is at the other end of the corridor,” she explained. “The baby wakes in the night, but you shouldn’t be able to hear her from here. At least I hope not. And Julian is right across the hall. I hope that’s all right. Your door locks, of course.”
Zoë thanked her again for her generosity and hospitality, which Dot dismissed with an airy wave of her hand. “I’d do the same for anyone my brother kidnapped,” she joked. She wished Zoë good night and left her to get undressed.
The maid helped Zoë to undress and took the rest of her clothing away to be laundered. Zoë washed in the hot water, using a beautifully fragrant soap, then slipped into the voluminous white nightgown. She cleaned her teeth, then climbed onto the bed and waited.
A few minutes later she hopped off the bed, parted the curtains and peered out. A blackberry-dark sky with a bright scattering of stars and a crescent moon.
She picked up one of the books that Dot had left for her, climbed back onto the bed and idly flipped the pages, taking in nothing. Her ears were stretched for every little sound. Had he come upstairs yet, or was he still downstairs drinking and chatting with his brother-in-law?
