Gillian stepped down and stumbled into Moreham’s arms. Her first thought was to remain exactly where she was. They were married after all. He lifted her up, holding her against his chest with her feet dangling in the air.
Although, they had not consummated their marriage, there would be no annulment. Not that she had ever considered the possibility of dissolving her marriage. Aunt Isadora was the one who had suggested such. Suggesting such a recourse only spoke to her aunt’s desperation to remove her from Moreham.
Moreham was all she wanted. He didn’t disgust her as Percy Arnold had. Arnold? The gentleman had dogged her every footstep for months which felt like years ago now.
Moreham was the one who made her happy. Not just in bed making love to her, but now here at Whitings. Didn’t his acceptance prove there was more to their relationship than the physical aspect? Having his trust was a good sign, wasn’t it?
Moreham swung her around and placed her back on terra firma. Enough woolgathering, she would have to make introductions to Perkins, her uncle’s butler and her dearest ally.
Gillian smiled at the butler then turned to Moreham and made the obligatory introduction.
“Perkins, it is my understanding I owe my gratitude to you and your staff here for Lady Gillian’s happiest years.”
Perkins preened at the acknowledgement…no mean feat. The butler was well used to the peerage having served her uncle, father and grandfather. For the old man to be charmed by Moreham was a feather in her husband’s cap. Would she ever get used to being married to this man who gathered everyone he cared for around him, only to retreat at a moment’s notice behind a wall of indifference.
Perkins opened the ten-foot tall doors into the front hall to reveal the household staff lined up by the central stairs. Tears threatened as she looked from one familiar face to another. The butler strutted forward and introduced each person to the earl. Each member of the staff was dear to her. Wilbert, the stable master who’d taught her to ride. Sarah, the tweenie, not much older than herself, and every other member of the household who had dried her tears, chastised her and swatted her bottom for whatever transgression she had managed to fall into.
Her tears would not be held back at the sight of her friend, Jane, standing at the end of the line with the other kitchen staff. How many hours had she and Jane spent talking about falling in love? While she had gone to Town, Jane had married Perkins’ grandson, Michael. Uncle had gifted the couple a tenancy when they married so her friend would always live on the estate.
Moreham shook each man’s hand. Spoke to each woman in a respectful tone. She had never been prouder, of her friends or her husband. After years of feeling like a lesser person, now she felt like a queen with her king. Not for the first time, Gillian thanked God for bringing this man into her life. She followed behind him lagging further as she spoke to her friends. She wanted to hear all the news.
Moreham was off to the side speaking with Michael when she stepped in front of Jane. She gasped. Jane was round with child. For the first time in her life, Gillian was jealous, how she would love to have Moreham’s babe in her belly. How she wished James held her in the same affectionate regard that Michael obviously did for Jane. Even conversing with an earl did not divert his attention from his wife. Jane seeing her distress reached for her and held on tight.
“Oh Gillian…it is so good to see you. I wanted to write about the babe, but to do so seemed too impersonal.”
Moreham came up behind her and waited. Gillian moved slightly to the side so he could join her. “Moreham, Jane is my dearest friend.” She knew to this woman she could not lie. All she could hope was Moreham would believe her words were in keeping with their ruse. “Jane, I love him. I pray the Lord will someday bless us with a babe.”
Moreham threw back his head and laughed. He drew her close to him and hugged her. “You are a wonder, my dear.”
Perkins waited for the conversation to lapse before clapping his hands and sending the staff back to their duties. He led Gillian and Moreham up the stairs to the second floor then turned to the right, rather than the left as she had thought he would do.
“My lord, your rooms are ready.”
“Perkins, what rooms are prepared for us?”
Gillian waited. Silence. That lack of response from spoke volumes.
“You are taking us to my mother’s rooms, aren’t you?”
Her heart shattered into tiny pieces. Perkins stopped in front of the door to the suite of rooms formerly known as the Blue and Gold Bedchamber, a suite of rooms her mother had occupied as a young woman. Her uncle had ordered the suite closed up after his sister’s death.
Only Perkins ever knew about her visits to this room, her mother’s sitting room. Many a time the butler had found her sleeping on the settee or when she was older sitting in the window seat reading a book.
Perkins turned around. She’d never seen him cry. Tears ran down the old man’s cheeks unheeded. Moreham nudged her and handed her his handkerchief. She gently wiped at the old man’s tears.
Perkins took the cloth. He folded the damp cloth and straightened to his full height before speaking. “Your mother would have loved you very much. She would be happy at your marriage to the earl.”
“I know, dear friend, I know. This room was my only link to her. Thank you for the care and love you and the staff showered on me all those years. Many, when finding a four-year old scamp in their care, would have done the bare minimum, but not you and the others.
