Most men of Jeremy’s acquaintance, including his brothers, seemed to prefer fair, blue-eyed, buxom women, but Jeremy didn’t see the attraction. A lock of raven-black hair had escaped Alys’s cap, and her eyes were the color of the sea on a clear winter’s day—a limpid blue-gray. She was short and slim, her bosom modest, her hips curving gently beneath layers of fabric. Not a good breeder would be his father’s verdict, but Jeremy found her most alluring.
Alys had been crying before he approached her, of that he was sure. If that shrew who’d come after her had anything to do with that, he could see only too well why the poor girl had been so unhappy. He should have thanked her for her assistance with a coin or two. It meant little enough to him, but to a village girl, a half crown would be a fortune, something she could squirrel away for a rainy day. He’d seek her out when he returned for his horse and rectify his mistake.
Jeremy dismounted and tossed the reins to a boy who’d come running from the stables. It was too late to do anything about the state of his boots or the shirt that stuck uncomfortably to his back after hours under the hot sun. He took a deep breath and used the heavy knocker to announce his presence.
A servant opened the door and invited him into the foyer, the dim light almost gloomy after the brightness of the day outside. Jeremy took off his hat and bowed to the lady of the house as she came down to greet him. Mistress Ashcombe had to be about forty, with dark brown eyes and frizzy rust-color hair that she wore in a style reminiscent of the Virgin Queen. Her gown was also somewhat out of date, brocaded silk in a pattern of ochre and cream with puffed sleeves and lace cuffs. She smiled in welcome, but her eyes were anxious, her expression wary.
“I apologize for my lateness,” Jeremy said. “I’m afraid my horse lost a shoe.”
“Did you travel alone, your lordship?” Mistress Ashcombe asked, clearly surprised that someone of his position would not have taken along a manservant or availed himself of a carriage.
“I did. It’s a fine day, and I thought I’d enjoy the ride. And my father had need of my manservant today,” Jeremy explained, feeling foolish in the extreme.
“Well, no matter. You are here now. We held dinner,” Mistress Ashcombe said without any reproach. “I hope you will join us. Please, do come into the parlor. Marjorie will join us presently.”
“I’m eager to meet my bride,” Jeremy confessed as he took a seat on a settle cushioned with tapestried pillows. His future mother-in-law sat across from him, her hand gliding along the back of the little brown-and-white dog that she’d scooped up from beneath the chair and settled on her lap.
“Marjorie will be very pleased to make your acquaintance,” Mistress Ashcombe reassured him, her gaze never leaving his face.
“That’s a sweet little dog.”
“Her name is Effy. She’s my constant companion,” Mistress Ashcombe said, smiling affectionately.
“I brought Marjorie a betrothal gift,” Jeremy said. “I hope she will like it.”
“How very thoughtful of you, my lord,” Mistress Ashcombe gushed. “I am sure Marjorie will love it.”
Jeremy had thought long and hard about what to give his future bride and settled on a jeweled cloak pin. It was pretty enough to temp any lady but not overly presumptuous or inappropriately intimate. There’d be time for gifts of a more personal nature later.
Jeremy sprang to his feet when Marjorie Ashcombe finally entered the room, her dark gaze instantly going to his face. He’d thought she’d be nervous, but the expression in her eyes was one of annoyance rather than anxiety. She had a fine figure, Jeremy thought, but was dressed entirely in black, only her lace-edged collar and modest cap adding a touch of white. The hair beneath the cap was a fairer shade than her mother’s, her complexion sallow against the starkness of her gown. She did not return his smile.
“Mistress Marjorie, I was most eager to make your acquaintance,” Jeremy said, bowing to her deeply. “I hope I did not inconvenience you by turning up late.”
“I’ve been eager to meet you as well, my lord,” Marjorie said coolly. “I would have come down immediately, but I was at prayer when you arrived and asked not to be disturbed.”
“I would have waited as long as it took,” Jeremy said, wondering if prayer in the middle of the afternoon was commonplace for his future wife. Was she still in mourning for her father? He would have assumed so had her mother also been decked out in black, but Mistress Ashcombe did not look like a woman given to grief.
“Will you be joining us at table, my lord?” Marjorie asked.
“Your mother has kindly invited me to stay,” Jeremy replied.
“Then we will have a chance to converse at leisure,” Marjorie said, sitting down stiffly on a matching settle across from him.
“I thought perhaps, with your mother’s permission, we might walk in the garden,” Jeremy suggested.
“It’s a fine day outside,” Lady Ashcombe said, smiling at Jeremy with obvious approval.
Marjorie did not seem pleased by the prospect but didn’t refuse. “Perhaps after dinner,” she said, her expression dour. “You must be in need of sustenance after your long ride.”
“Yes, it was rather longer than expected, especially since my horse cast a shoe. I walked the last few miles to the village.”
“Then perhaps you’ve had enough fresh air for one day,” Marjorie said. “It is rather warm out there.”
“We can remain indoors, if you prefer it,” Jeremy said.
