I find the urge to burst into tears of happiness and cast myself upon his broad chest occurs frequently, although until now I have not thought of voluntarily being close to a man that way.
My departed husband certainly did not encourage such emotional displays.
The house is lovely. A stately yet delicate frontage and what might be gardens around it—I shall learn more upon the morrow when it is light and I can explore.
I dined modestly in what Giles referred to as the parlour; a cosy room with many cheerful gold colours glowing from both furnishings and curtains. They were drawn against the cold, of course, and the fire was welcome indeed. I’m sure Mama would have liked this house, since everything is spotless. I like it because I did not have to make it so.
I have not met any of the staff yet, and am anxious to do so, but Giles tells me all things can wait until the morrow. I will admit to some exhaustion, but 'tis hard to believe that it is only mere hours since I watched my late husband vanish into the earth.
And now, dear Diary, I shall confess something quite dreadfully shocking. For the first time in my life, I felt a gentleman’s hands assisting me in removing my clothing.
Yes, I shall surely be condemned to an eternity of agony for such a transgression, but I had no one else to ask. Giles brought hot water to my chamber and found me struggling with the tapes of my gown. He was all that was proper and polite, and had me unlaced in a trice, which was very helpful.
My blushes must have added their own warmth to the room, but given the kindness of his attentions to me, I was not unduly overset.
The tingling brush of his fingers across my bare back as he completed his task—well, I felt quite giddy from it. In a very pleasant and unusual way.
As I read over my words, I realise they must be a product of the trying day I have just experienced, and possibly the events of the last few weeks as well. So I shall sleep and pray that I will not wake on the morrow to find this has all been a dream.
I note with a degree of happiness that I am experiencing much less discomfort in my ribs now. The bruises are still there, but they will fade. The pains of my marriage are beginning to heal, it would seem. Would that my memories fade as well as the bruises.
Chapter Two
Adalyn awoke to brief glimpses of sun streaming through her window the following morning.
She sat up, stretched, and then noticed clothing lying across the end of the large bed. She scrambled from beneath the covers and examined the items.
Someone, and she guessed it was probably Giles, had obtained a simple outfit in whites and greys. The chemise was white, with a ruff of fine Valenciennes lace around the neckline, while the overdress consisted of beautifully embroidered dark grey wool, with a matching band to fasten beneath the wearer’s breasts.
It also featured long sleeves ending in a frill of lace to fall over one’s hands.
She found she could dress herself thanks to the clever design and the positioning of the buttons, so she hurried through her toilette, tidied her hair and slipped into the new garments with a degree of delight she had not anticipated experiencing the day after a funeral.
The long mirror in the corner reflected a slender young woman in sober but stylish clothing. It should have been all black of course, at least for a year, but since she knew nobody and doubted she’d be expected to greet visitors, this particular ensemble was ideal for a woman experiencing a recent loss.
So ideal that she almost danced downstairs to find Giles and thank him for her new finery.
Sounds emanated from the small parlour where she had eaten last night, so she hurried in, words of delight trembling on her lips
But Giles wasn’t there…someone else was. “Oh…”
“My Lady,” he bowed deeply. “I am Jeremy, your footman. Allow me to serve you breakfast…”
He walked to the table and pulled out a chair, clearly intending to seat her. The scent of toast and bacon wreathed around Adalyn’s nostrils, and there was little she could do but agree and sit down.
“Thank you, er…Jeremy.”
“Would you enjoy some eggs, my Lady?”
“Yes, please,” answered Adalyn politely. Nobody had ever asked her that before.
“They come from a farm near here, so they are quite fresh. Evan is convinced that our Wolfbridge eggs are far superior to anyone else’s.” He chuckled as he spoke, mounding a plate with bacon, sausages, toast and the eggs.
“Oh, yes…Evan. He is the cook?”
“That is correct. Although I suppose he should be referred to as a chef, since his meals are superb works of art. Even the simplest pie is raised to delectable levels with his touch.”
“Goodness.” Adalyn blinked. “Then I cannot wait to try these eggs.”
Her eyes widened even more as the plate Jeremy set in front of her overflowed with perfection.
“Tea?”
She smiled at Jeremy. “Always.”
“Milk and sugar?”
“Just milk, please.”
The little interchange helped ease her nerves and the food—which was indeed as Jeremy had promised—rapidly sated her appetite.
He stood quietly by the serving stand, occasionally lifting a lid and checking the contents.
Of medium height, but solid beneath his dark coat and crisp white shirt, his tousled sandy hair looked as soft as a babe’s. She found his blue eyes were quite delightful and there was a dimple in his chin that softened the masculine lines of his face.
“What are your duties, Jeremy?” she asked, between mouthfuls.
“To tend to your every need, Lady Adalyn,” he answered, eyes gleaming.
A tiny shiver of pleasure danced over her skin at his words. “Um…at this moment, I’m not sure I have any…”
“Of course not, since you’ve barely had a chance to see more of Wolfbridge than this room and your
