staff. Lady Azaela had prepared her niece in every way to be mistress of a large respectable establishment, and those who dismissed her for an ignorant tradesman’s daughter would swiftly learn their mistake, Barbara thought.
“I suspected as much when I was introduced to the servants belowstairs. I am despised, Lucy. But I’ll wager that before the month is done I shall be mistress of this house. I shan’t sit idly by while mismanagement and misplaced snobbery spread like dry rot through the place,” she said with quiet evenness.
“Indeed not, my lady,” Lucy said, cheered. She set to the pleasant task of rearranging her mistress’s fine auburn hair.
----
Chapter 7
Half an hour to the minute, Barbara entered the parlor. The footman who had shown her into the room closed the door behind her. The earl turned from his contemplation of the fire as she walked toward him.
Babs saw that his lordship had also taken the opportunity to trade his bridal clothes for more conservative wear. He had put on instead an afternoon coat, smooth buckskin trousers, and glossy Hessian boots. His cravat was immaculately tied, while his tight-fitting waistcoat was decorated with a collection of fobs and seals at the waist. The Earl of Chatworth was an undeniably attractive gentleman, and when he smiled, as he did now, the countess privately thought she had never met anyone that more fit her romantic fancies.
Lord Chatworth regarded his new wife quizzingly. “A penny for them,” he offered, gesturing her courteously to a chair.
Babs laughed, though a faint flush mounted in her cheeks. She gracefully sat down. “I was thinking that I have seldom seen a more attractive gentleman,” she said.
The earl paused in the act of pouring their wine. His brows rose and his expression was somewhat sardonic as he said, “Indeed, ma’am! I am flattered that you should say so.”
Babs was nettled by his amused tone. As she took the wineglass from his hand, she looked steadily into his face. “Are you? I cannot conceive why. Afterward one usually does inspect a purchase with a sense of pleasure and perhaps a more critical eye than one did before carrying it home.”
Lord Chatworth’s brows snapped together and he stared frowningly at her. Then his expression cleared and he laughed. He leaned his shoulder against the mantel. Lifting his glass, he said, “Touché, my lady, I had not thought about it in such terms, but you are right, of course. We have each made what we hope to be a bargain. It is only natural that you should wonder whether I am able to live up to expectations.”
Babs took a sip of the sweet wine, letting the pause lengthen to a moment. Lowering the wineglass, she cradled it between her palms. “And you, my lord? Do you also wonder?”
Lord Chatworth regarded her silently. He allowed his eyes to travel over her, from her plaited hair and lovely face with the large green eyes and the delectably curved lips, to her neckline and the hint of shadow there, the small waist and curve of thigh outlined by the day gown.
He saw that his open scrutiny embarrassed her, but she did not drop her eyes when he returned his gaze to her face. He spoke with deliberation. “I, too, have looked over my purchase again, and I experience a sense of undeniable pleasure when I do so.”
“That is not quite what I meant,” Babs said, her color considerably heightened.
Lord Chatworth smiled in the peculiar fashion that she had taken note of during their first meeting. “I shall be perfectly honest, my lady. I have entered into a marriage that I never wished for and one that I hope will be of the shortest duration. However that may be, I intend to hold by the tenets of our pact. I expect that you will also honor our understanding. You have already proven in more than one respect to be a surprise to me.” He paused a moment to regard her more thoughtfully. “Why did you not tell me that Lady Azaela Terowne was your aunt?”
Barbara ran one
“I suspected as much when I was introduced to the servants belowstairs. I am despised, Lucy. But I’ll wager that before the month is done I shall be mistress of this house. I shan’t sit idly by while mismanagement and misplaced snobbery spread like dry rot through the place,” she said with quiet evenness.
“Indeed not, my lady,” Lucy said, cheered. She set to the pleasant task of rearranging her mistress’s fine auburn hair.
----
Chapter 7
Half an hour to the minute, Barbara entered the parlor. The footman who had shown her into the room closed the door behind her. The earl turned from his contemplation of the fire as she walked toward him.
Babs saw that his lordship had also taken the opportunity to trade his bridal clothes for more conservative wear. He had put on instead an afternoon coat, smooth buckskin trousers, and glossy Hessian boots. His cravat was immaculately tied, while his tight-fitting waistcoat was decorated with a collection of fobs and seals at the waist. The Earl of Chatworth was an undeniably attractive gentleman, and when he smiled, as he did now, the countess privately thought she had never met anyone that more fit her romantic fancies.
Lord Chatworth regarded his new wife quizzingly. “A penny for them,” he offered, gesturing her courteously to a chair.
Babs laughed, though a faint flush mounted in her cheeks. She gracefully sat down. “I was thinking that I have seldom seen a more attractive gentleman,” she said.
The earl paused in the act of pouring their wine. His brows rose and his expression was somewhat sardonic as he said, “Indeed, ma’am! I am flattered that you should say so.”
Babs was nettled by his amused tone. As she took the wineglass from his hand, she looked steadily into his face. “Are you? I cannot conceive why. Afterward one usually does inspect a purchase with a sense of pleasure and perhaps a more critical eye than one did before carrying it home.”
Lord Chatworth’s brows snapped together and he stared frowningly at her. Then his expression cleared and he laughed. He leaned his shoulder against the mantel. Lifting his glass, he said, “Touché, my lady, I had not thought about it in such terms, but you are right, of course. We have each made what we hope to be a bargain. It is only natural that you should wonder whether I am able to live up to expectations.”
Babs took a sip of the sweet wine, letting the pause lengthen to a moment. Lowering the wineglass, she cradled it between her palms. “And you, my lord? Do you also wonder?”
Lord Chatworth regarded her silently. He allowed his eyes to travel over her, from her plaited hair and lovely face with the large green eyes and the delectably curved lips, to her neckline and the hint of shadow there, the small waist and curve of thigh outlined by the day gown.
He saw that his open scrutiny embarrassed her, but she did not drop her eyes when he returned his gaze to her face. He spoke with deliberation. “I, too, have looked over my purchase again, and I experience a sense of undeniable pleasure when I do so.”
“That is not quite what I meant,” Babs said, her color considerably heightened.
Lord Chatworth smiled in the peculiar fashion that she had taken note of during their first meeting. “I shall be perfectly honest, my lady. I have entered into a marriage that I never wished for and one that I hope will be of the shortest duration. However that may be, I intend to hold by the tenets of our pact. I expect that you will also honor our understanding. You have already proven in more than one respect to be a surprise to me.” He paused a moment to regard her more thoughtfully. “Why did you not tell me that Lady Azaela Terowne was your aunt?”
Barbara ran one
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