"WE'RE ALMOST home," Alexandra heard softly in her ear.
She startled awake, lifting her head to look around. The road they were on followed the Thames, and as they turned off it and started up a wide drive, Hawkridge Hall came into view. Although it wasn't a castle like Cainewood, the symmetrical H-shaped building looked large and imposing, three stories of red brick.
The very sight of it brought the truth crashing down. She'd spent the past day in a haze of disbelief, but now her new home loomed before her. A new place. A new situation…one that had cost her family their reputation.
Tris squeezed her hand as they approached. "What do you think?"
Sweet heaven, she loved him. She swallowed hard, resolving to tuck the negative thoughts away—at least for tonight. It was her wedding night. How long had she dreamed of this night with Tris, never daring to hope it might actually happen?
Besides, she was going to prove he was innocent—so her sisters' reputations would be saved.
"Very impressive," she replied with a smile. She was not taking her happiness at the expense of her family. Not in the long run, anyway. She just needed a week or two to set everything to rights. "Is the house very old?"
"Seventeenth century, down to the furniture." He smiled at her puzzled expression. "You'll see when we get inside."
As they skirted the stone figure of a river god in the center of the circular drive, the arched front door opened. Servants poured out onto the two sets of stone steps, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and welcome.
Alexandra watched as they arranged themselves carefully, men along the left and women on the right. "They knew we were coming?"
"I told them yesterday, when I stopped by to get your ring and my wedding clothes. I suspect they've been in a frenzy since then, getting the house all ready for a new mistress."
She disengaged her hand to reach forward and grab her basket. "I hope they'll like me."
"They'll love you." He turned her face toward him and pressed a kiss to her lips, quick but heartfelt. "They won't be able to help themselves."
Seeing grins spread on several of the staff's faces, she blushed wildly. And wished he'd said he wouldn't be able to help loving her. She'd have to give him time. Though she was determined to knock down that wall around him, it was looking like she'd have to do it brick by brick.
Another project for the coming weeks.
Directly in front of the door and all those smiling faces, the carriage rolled to a halt. A footman rushed to help Alexandra down. "Welcome to Hawkridge Hall, my lady."
"Thank you,…?"
"John," Tris provided as he climbed out behind her. "Uncle Harold called all the footmen John."
"Well, that's just plain silly." Here, finally, she felt in her element. She knew how to handle a household staff. She reached into her basket. "Would you care for a coriander biscuit? And pray, what is your given name?"
"Ernest," the man said, looking at the biscuit in his gloved hand as though he'd never seen one before. "Thank you, my lady."
"Thank you, Ernest." She started up the wide stone steps, where the butler waited, looking very stiff and serious.
Tris came up beside her, taking her arm. "This is Hastings," he said by way of introduction. "I couldn't run this place without him."
Gray-haired Hastings was older than Boniface and not nearly as pretty. But hearing Tris's praise, his stern features relaxed, revealing a pleasant face with brown eyes. "Welcome, my lady."
"Why, thank you, Hastings." She smiled, handing him a biscuit before heading for the first of a half-dozen footmen lined up beside him, all dressed in blue livery. "And your name is?"
"Will. Welcome, my lady."
"I'm so pleased to be here, Will." She handed him a biscuit and moved on. "And you are…?"
"Ted. Welcome to Hawkridge Hall."
She reached for another biscuit. "Thank you, Ted."
"John," the next man said. When she gave him a dubious glance along with his biscuit, he added, "It truly is John, my lady. My father was John, and his father before him."
"A fine name," she assured him. "So long as it belongs to you."
It turned out there were two Johns among the footmen. After Alexandra met the rest of the butler's staff and a complete set of outdoor servants, another man stepped out of the house. Dressed like a perfect gentleman, he was tall and big boned. He had a wide nose, full lips, and skin the color of a moonless night.
"My valet," Tris said quietly, obviously noting her surprise.
Though she'd never spoken with a black man before, she went up to him unhesitatingly. "Would you care for a coriander biscuit, Mr….?"
"Vincent. Just Vincent. I have no second name." His deep voice and musical accent made her think of palm trees swaying on a beach. "Welcome to Hawkridge Hall, my lady. My master is bound to be in better spirits with you here."
"I hope so," she told him, mentally filing the interesting tidbit that Tris's valet thought he'd been in poor spirits of late. "Thank you."
Vincent smiled, displaying a mouth full of large, white teeth. He was impeccably groomed and well mannered, and she liked him very much. But although it was common for servants to call their employers master and mistress, his use of the term, coupled with his lack of a surname, made her wonder if he was a slave.
She turned to Tris, unable to picture him as a man who would own another. With a cryptic smile, he took her arm to cross her over to the women's side.
Her questions would have to wait for later.
"My indispensable housekeeper," he said. "Mrs. Oliver."
A short, slight older woman with pink cheeks and sparkling chocolate eyes, Mrs. Oliver bobbed Alexandra a curtsy. "If you don't mind me saying so, my lady, we're so pleased that Lord Hawkridge has wed."
"He was lonely," Alexandra said softly.
Mrs. Oliver darted Tris a glance. "Yes."
"Thank you for taking such good care of him."
She beamed. "I
