In contrast to the years she’d spent suffering under her mother’s hands—a woman who insisted that all ladies should wear their hair pulled up into a bun and secured tightly with those brutal hairpins—Adalyn’s current style was a decadent luxury indeed.
Catching up her dark woollen shawl, she was as ready as she could be, and turned to the door with a light step.
Her reflection flashed back at her from the tall piers glass, and she stopped short, staring at her image.
She saw a woman, not a shadow of one. A woman with a half-smile on her lips and a head held high.
For a few moments she barely recognised herself. The sad girl with lowered eyes and rounded shoulders that tended to droop…that person no longer existed. In her place was the woman Adalyn knew should have been there all along.
At last she was starting to feel free enough to become herself.
A gift indeed.
Hurrying downstairs she found Giles awaiting her arrival. “Sherry before dinner, my Lady?” He held out his arm.
She rested her hand upon it and nodded. “Sounds delightful.”
They walked together into the parlour where a fire burned and the curtains were drawn tightly against the cold January air. It was warm, comfortable and Adalyn accepted a glass of sherry offered by Jeremy, the only other gentleman in the room.
“The others will be here shortly, Lady Adalyn,” he said. “Daniel is changing, Evan is putting the finishing touches to his roast lamb, and Trick wanted to check on one of the horses before securing the stables for the night.”
She sipped her sherry and nodded. “I would not expect any of you to avoid what needs to be done.” She glanced at Giles with some apprehension. “In fact, I’m not sure my suggestion of dinner was a wise one, given everybody’s duties…”
“Be at ease, my Lady. If it had not been advantageous, I would have told you so.”
“I hoped that was the case.” She breathed a little easier.
Jeremy stood by the fireplace, his hand on the mantel. “Did you enjoy your day, my Lady?”
She didn’t immediately respond, since his pose showed him to advantage and she was struck anew by how attractive he was. His eyes seemed to betray humour and kindness whenever they met hers, and although he was not taller than any of his fellows, the strength of his thighs was evident within his close-fitting breeches.
Turning away under the pretext of putting her sherry glass down on a side table, she reminded herself that she had no business thinking about a man’s breeches. “Indeed, I did enjoy the tour, Jeremy.” She turned back with a smile. “Even though it was cold as…well, cold as late January.”
“And your impressions of Wolfbridge?” Giles tipped his head to one side.
“All good,” she replied. “Very good indeed.”
Evan appeared with a tiny gong. He struck it, then chuckled. “A bit redundant, given the guest list, but Daniel is coming downstairs and I just heard Trick closing the outside door. So, my Lady, dinner is served.”
Once again, Giles extended his arm. “May I escort you?”
“You may. Thank you.”
It was a heady moment—being escorted to her own dining table by a butler who could have been a prince of some foreign nation, such was his bearing and manner. And once there, to find four men standing tall, each different, but each almost heartbreakingly handsome in their own ways, waiting for her to take her seat.
She did so with a strange lump of anticipation in her throat.
To be the only woman at a dinner table was unheard of. Or at least she’d never heard a whisper of such a thing. If word got out—well it would be a scandalous tidbit that might ruin her reputation.
Then she realised she didn’t really have a reputation of any kind worth ruining, so she decided to not waste another moment thinking about it.
Although the setting was formal, those at the table were not. Evan stood by the soup tureen and ladled out servings with good humour, mentioning how he’d made sure that Trick’s serving had extra pepper in it, because the man needed more energy.
Given that Trick was probably the most energetic of all of them, the chuckles rolled around the table at the good-natured jest.
That set the tone for the rest of the meal, and Adalyn found herself almost sore from laughing. The food was delicious, and Evan blushed at the compliments.
“Our own mint?” asked Adalyn, dousing the lamb on her plate with the rich green liquid.
“Of course,” he replied. “I picked it fresh this morning. It’s tucked into a little space where it will get sun, but also protected from the worst of the snow and cold.”
The conversation turned to spices, herbs and gardening, and Adalyn broached the notion of walling in more of the kitchen garden to offer additional protection for the tender plants.
Giles looked intrigued, but referred it to Daniel for cost outlay thoughts—and thus the meal passed with talk ranging around the table, ideas being shuffled back and forth, and the general business of Wolfbridge providing fodder for the six sharing the bounty of their land.
Adalyn remained silent more often than not, enjoying the sound of male voices as they discussed, argued, joked and exchanged thoughts. There seemed no acrimony amongst the men; to her surprise they all treated each other with respect, a measure of affection such as gentlemen were wont to display, and listened to every opinion or suggestion with interest.
She wondered if this was unique, or perhaps just something she’d not experienced. Even Giles, older and more mature though he was, took part in the conversation willingly, unafraid to ask questions or give his own thoughts on some matter.
She couldn’t help contrasting it with the silent meals she’d grown up with. Her father had insisted that any communication at the table should be of a modest or reflective nature, and if such topics could not be found, then silence
