you up to bed. It isn’t
He left her in the capable hands of her new maid and returned to the drawing-room to wait for the coffee tray to arrive. There were still aspects of today’s events he was not happy with. It seemed odd these renegades should choose to burgle Newcomb in broad daylight.
Devil take it! The men had known the house would be empty - Jed would have mentioned the girl’s funeral whilst he was in the village and had, no doubt, told all and sundry his master was allowing the entire staff to attend. The vagabonds must have seen this as the perfect opportunity. If Othello had not found them, God knows what might have happened.
He stretched out his legs on the day bed; Isobel’s scent lingered on the upholstery and he sniffed appreciatively. She was almost convinced he had become a man she could love again, but he wanted to do something else, something tangible, to prove his credentials as a loving and caring husband.
When he eventually retired he was sure he had the perfect solution. What he planned to do for her would not only surprise her it would make her life at Newcomb more enjoyable.
Something woke Isobel. Had Alexander changed his mind, ignored her strictures to remain out of her bed? The all-too-familiar heat spread from her toes to her fingertips. Despite her protestations she knew she could not refuse him.
“I should not be here, darling, I promise I haven’t come to importune you. I’ve come to tell you what I plan to do next door.”
“Could it not wait until tomorrow? I can’t think of anything that will make up to the fact that you have woken me up in the middle of the night.”
By this time he was lighting candles and she had no option but to sit and listen to his proposal. She was forced to admit her irritation was mainly because she was disappointed he had not come to make love to her.
“There, my dear. Tomorrow I am going to move the kitchen at Newcomb so that in future you shall have your meals served to you hot.”
Whatever she had expected him to say it had not been this. What an extraordinary conversation to be having at midnight. “Move a kitchen? It can’t be done. What about the chimney, the scullery and all the other paraphernalia involved with preparing food? The kitchen was put where it was for a reason…”
“This was to make sure we had unpalatable and unpleasant food and that all our staff ate better than us.”
His playfulness was infectious. “In which case might it not be better for us to move into the servants’ quarters and for the servants to live in Newcomb proper?”
“A sound idea, my love, but I’ve a better one. I still have the drawings the architect made and have been perusing them these past hours. We have more rooms on the ground floor than any sensible family could ever use, I doubt I’ve been into half of them and I’ve lived here all my life.”
She yawned and was too late to disguise it. “Tell me tomorrow, Alexander. Go away now and let me sleep.”
In answer he strolled across and sat on the edge of the bed. “There’s something else I wish to tell you, darling girl, I’m irrevocably in love with you. No, don’t protest, I don’t expect you to reciprocate my feelings, but I wanted you to know.” He leaned down placing his hands on either side of her and his kiss was sweet and loving. The ice around her heart finally melted.
Chapter Seventeen
“What kind of day is it today, Ellie? Do you think it will be hot?”
Isobel’s abigail flung back the shutters letting the sunlight pour into the bed chamber. “It’s a beautiful day, my lady, I reckon as his grace was right to delay your move back into the main building until them April showers had gone.”
“Have you seen the improvements, Ellie? I’ve not been allowed to peep. Do you know I’ve not felt so excited since I was a small child waiting for my name day.”
Her brow creased. Today was in fact her anniversary and she would be one and twenty. Alexander had never acknowledged her birthday. Indeed, she had no notion when
“I’ve not been in; no one has apart from them that are working in there. That lot who came back from London are the only ones who know what’s been done.” The girl carefully placed the tray on the bedside table. “Shall I put out the pale green dimity, my lady? The one with the pretty daisies sewn around the neck and hem?”
Isobel stretched and the baby protested by punching and kicking as if desperate to get out. The eminent medical man who had come down from Town last month had assured her she was in perfect health and that her hips were wide enough to produce the infant she was carrying. Her delivery could not come soon enough. She felt like a brood mare about to drop a foal. Maintaining any sort of normal activity was becoming increasingly difficult. Alexander still insisted on accompanying her on her early-morning promenade even though the small band of renegades had long since been arrested, but even this gentle stroll would soon become too much.
Only a few more weeks and then she would be holding her baby in her arms. What must take place in order to produce this miracle she did not dwell upon. Mary had told her what to expect as she had produced three stillborn infants in the early days of her marriage.
Alexander had been remarkably elusive, spending all his days either overseeing whatever was going on next door or about the estate. Regular reports were sent from Grosvenor Square by Mr Bentley who was all and betrothed to one Miss Amelia Workington, the pretty daughter of a minor aristocrat. The young man was to visit with the family when the season was over but would not be returning to take up residence in the east wing until the renovations and repairs were completed.
She no longer bothered to wear a multitude of petticoats or silk stockings, she did not go about in public and Alexander scarcely seemed aware of her nowadays. No, that was not quite true. Every evening they dined together in perfect harmony, he was witty and charming but treated her as if she was a sibling rather than his wife.
“I shall get dressed immediately, Ellie. I intend to demand to be taken next door. I shall eat my breakfast on the terrace outside the breakfast parlour.” She smiled at her maid. “Tell Cook I shall eat nothing further until I am established in Newcomb.”
She stood tapping her foot in her sitting room. Why was Alexander tardy? Every morning he came to escort her downstairs as if she were a decrepit octogenarian not a healthy young woman with nothing wrong with her. Admittedly having his arm to support her as she negotiated the staircase was a boon. Pregnancy was making her decidedly unbalanced, as if she might tip forward from the weight she carried in front of her.
Eventually the door opened. “My love, forgive me, you must have wondered where I was. Come, shall we go down?” He drew her arm through his, his eyes tender. “Being with child has made you even more beautiful, sweetheart; every day I thank God you came back to me.”
Isobel returned his smile. “And every day I begin to believe I made the right decision.”
Downstairs the hall was empty, the usual footmen absent and no sound of parlour maids. Good gracious! Even her dogs were missing. Where was everybody this morning? He led her straight outside not pausing to ask if she wished to break her fast before her morning walk.
A thrill of excitement rippled through her. “Alexander, are we finally going next-door? I’ve been beside myself with curiosity these past few weeks. Why have you chosen today?”
“Why do you think, darling?”
She pursed her lips and glanced up at him. “It’s May day? The first day of summer?”
His free hand came round and cupped her face, turning it towards him. “No, you pea-goose, it’s your name day. I thought this the perfect time to surprise you.”
Her feet stuck to the ground, her eyes filled. “I didn’t think you knew, I can’t tell you how much this means to me, Alexander. I shall never forget today.”
