Embracing Ashberry (16 page)

Ellie was not surprised to find that several
hours had passed before her inspection was complete. They had even
descended the service stairs and explored the kitchen, where Ellie
had met the head cook, a jovial man named Banning who clearly
enjoyed supervising the kitchen staff. He introduced Ellie to
everyone in sight, from the delivery boys who brought fresh meat
for the evening meal to his assistant, an Irishman named Brendan
that Ellie immediately noted as less than enthusiastic about his
position.

At mid-afternoon, she had a cup of tea while
Winters explained how the house would slim down in size after the
marquess and his wife left London. “The day staff will be relieved
of their positions when you retire to Ashberry Park, my lady. His
Lordship doesn’t expect to return until September and there is
little need to pay them all to come and sit in the servant’s hall
for nine months.”

The ‘day staff’ consisted of fourteen
servants, and Ellie was glad to note that Winters had found
positions for nearly all of them, some as day staff with Caroline
and Charlotte, the rest in neighboring houses whose owners planned
to return to London before the end of February.

“We also expect a few of the household to
leave voluntarily, my lady,” he added, “Including the undercook,
Brendan. I suspect he’s hoping Miss Caroline—Countess
Eldenwood—will want him to be in charge of her kitchens in Ireland.
He would be close to his parents there.”

Ellie considered several notions but decided
intervention would not be wise. “If he’s not content, Mr. Winters,
allow him to go when he chooses. Will it leave the kitchen
short-staffed?”

Winters shrugged. “It will leave only
Banning, my lady, since the kitchen maids will have been dismissed.
When the house is closed, however, all of us do what needs to be
done to go on. Mrs. Shannon, Banning, myself and the stable master
Mr. Jameson will be in residence, though Mr. Jameson is more a
pensioner than anyone else.”

The man was quite elderly and had been
forcibly retired from running the stables at Ashberry Park after
being kicked by a birthing mare, though Ashberry had told Ellie
already that the man had bluntly refused to leave the marquess’
service. He had been quite reluctant, even, to listen to Ashberry’s
orders that brought him to London, where the stable rarely
contained more than four horses when the marquess was there and
perhaps one when he was not. Ellie was hardly concerned about his
presence in the house.

“Of the other resident servants, six maids,
the underbutler, the gardener, three footmen, three menservants,
and our waterman will remain.”

“Twenty?”

Ellie thought the number was high but
Winters hurried to explain. “His Lordship requires several men to
act as trusted couriers between London and Ashberry House and he
prefers the footmen and menservants here to have the responsibility
so often they are on the road. The maids have few duties, remaining
here only for the use of their rooms—most will take positions as
day workers in other houses in London until you and the marquess
return. Generally, we expect the maids to drift away the longer the
marquess remains in Cumbria but I am usually lucky in finding loyal
staff before his lordship opens the house.”

Ellie nodded, accepting his explanation. It
made sense and it was obvious many of the servants she had met had
been in the house for some years, so the policy seemed to inspire
at least some loyalty.

The two had spent two hours reviewing the
account books that Winters brought for her. He had given her some
time to consider them in private, but when he returned to the
morning room she was full of questions, apologizing, “I know his
lordship understands these to be necessary expenses and really,
this is very economical given the size of the house, but I’m afraid
I need you to explain to me what all these things actually are,
since I wasn’t here when they were purchased and I am quite unused
to the notations you’ve used.”

Winters had smiled, comfortable answering
her queries and not at all nervous. Most of the questions Ellie had
were traced to one of the two weddings held in the previous month
or to the two sisters of the marquess.

Ellie was not surprised to hear that her
husband made a habit of spending his afternoons at Westminster or
his clubs and took her lunch in the morning room while she and Mrs.
Shannon discussed the week’s menus. She supposed she would find out
that evening whether he would choose to dine with her or not. Mrs.
Shannon’s voice interrupted her wandering thoughts, the tone gentle
and solicitous. “If you’d like to rest, my lady, we needn’t
continue today.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Shannon. I believe I’ll
retire to my sitting room for awhile, if there is no other pressing
business?”

“Of course not, my lady,”

* * * *

Ashberry knelt at the end of the chaise as
he watched his wife sleep. She was unconsciously graceful, her
bosom lifting and falling in a soft, regular rhythm. He had found
Wendy in Ellie’s dressing room, mending a shift and had been
directed here, to her ladyship’s new sitting room. She had clearly
started to read, for the book was still open, but it had been
doomed to the floor. Ashberry looked at it curiously, smiling to
himself when he saw the title: A Brief History of the Battles
Against Scotland To 1500. His wife was taking her role as
marchioness seriously, a trait he greatly appreciated.

For the moment, though, he was eager to
watch her in a purely natural state, uninhibited by his presence
and he supposed sleep was the only purely natural state he was
going to be able to enjoy that day. He took his time examining her,
noting the rosy color of her cheeks from the warmth of the fire.
Her gown had a round neckline with a white lace collar and the
necklace he had presented to her the night before hung down to the
point just where the curve of her breasts started to shape the
front of the gown. Her waist was slender and the dress was fitted
to the narrow curve with piping the same conservative dark green
color of her gown.

It was a wool dress and Ashberry wondered if
she found it at all uncomfortable against the soft skin of her
arms. Below her skirts, he knew, cotton petticoats would offset the
harshness of the wool and below that her legs would be covered with
fine silk. She wore patent leather boots below her dress, their
heels comfortable for walking but not as stilted as the fashionable
shoes of the ballroom. He wondered if she knew how tempted he felt
just by the toes of her boots, for they peeked out below the hem of
her skirts where her legs hung from the end of the chaise.

He wondered, too, if Ellie knew how moved he
had been by the music that she had brought to the house, how he had
gone to stare mindlessly at the portrait of his mother he had
tenderly re-hung in the library years earlier, how he had ached
inside when the music ended. Ashberry knew now why the tips of her
precious fingers had shown just the slightest hint of use and why
her nails were carefully trimmed back just slightly more than one
would expect from a woman of their class.

Without really thinking, Ashberry unzipped
one of her boots and slid it off, repeating the motion on the
second foot. He set both aside, noting how small her toes seemed
compared to his. Visible even from inside her stockings, he
absorbed their shapeliness and the extent of her grooming, for each
toe laid just so perfectly next to the others and each nail shined
from her attentions. As he watched, her toes curled and her ankles
crossed, as if in her sleep she knew to sit properly.

A smile spread across his face even as he
swallowed heavily. He dared to slide a hand around the outside of
each foot, the silk not much of a barrier to the warm skin
beneath.

* * * *

Ellie rubbed her eyes with the back of one
hand, starting to sit up when the warmth around her feet jolted her
awake. She gasped, sitting up in shock until she saw that it was
Ashberry who was kneeling at her feet, his hands cupping the pads
of her feet in his hands.

The confused words escaped her before she
had the sense to stop them. “My lord?”

Only when their eyes caught did she remember
his threat and his earlier invocation of it, her own widening at
the realization. “I mean, Ashberry,” she whispered, already knowing
she was caught. “You surprised me,” she offered lamely, even to her
own ears.

His mouth quirked as he released her feet,
standing and moving to her side, where he again knelt, his hands
coming to rest on each elbow as he turned her to face him. She
watched distantly, as if she couldn’t feel his hands as they slid
up her arms and over her shoulders, then higher to cup each side of
her face. They were large, even larger when he held them so against
her, and their warmth seeped into her ears and skull. Relentlessly,
he pulled her forward, his own eyes determined despite the
skittishness in her expression. She pursed them together but he
didn’t pull away.

“I suppose you might consider yourself
lucky,” he whispered when their mouths were so close that she could
feel the change in the air as he spoke.

“Why?” The word could hardly be heard but it
somehow found its way between them.

The answer came just before his lips rested
against her. “Senseless,” he breathed, “Will hardly take any time
at all.” It didn’t, of course. Her eyes closed and her hands
compulsively gripped the upholstery at her sides. He kept his eyes
open, knowing instantly when the contact of their lips registered
in her mind, for her face softened and her mouth rounded into an
astonished open circle. He forced himself to ignore what would have
been an invitation from a more experienced lady, but moved to press
his lips more firmly to each corner of her lips, chuckling deeply
when she drew a sharp, short breath. Deciding immediately that she
didn’t appear to be senseless quite yet, he caught her lower lip
between his and licked the tip of his tongue along its bottom
edge.

Only when she trembled and gasped did he
pull back, pursing his lips together to retain the warmth of her
mouth at the edge of his. Her eyes showed shock but not disgust, so
he rocked back on his heels and waited, taking his own deep breath
to restore his poise. She did not disappoint him, her eyes clearing
after a few seconds, fewer than he expected. His heart nearly
stopped, his body steeling in pain, when her tongue crept from her
mouth to wet her lips.

Her mouth still burning, Ellie frantically
tried to find something to say. He seemed to be waiting for her but
she couldn’t seem to see past the fog that had formed in her brain.
The words seemed rushed and they didn’t reflect the amazement or
warmth that continued to well inside her, but he seem satisfied,
even pleased, by them. “I’m—I’m awake now.”

“I came,” he smiled gently, “To see if you
wished to go out at all today. I thought we might stroll around the
Square, if nothing else, for a breath of fresh air before
dinner.”

The stroll was chilly, but pleasant, and
most importantly to both Ellie and Ashberry, public.

They talked little, since Ellie’s overcoat
and shawl covered her mouth from the frosty air.

She was thankful to be relieved from the
unfamiliar tension that seemed to seep between them when they were
alone now and the company provided by the servants, children and
carriages in the surroundings street and in the Square gave her the
minutes she needed to regain her equilibrium. Ashberry was a
solicitous escort, clasping her hand on his arm and slowing his
naturally quick pace to her more measured one.

Dusk was settling on the city when they
returned to the house, where Alexander held the door open and took
Ashberry’s hat. A footman came to assist Ellie but Ashberry waved
him off, unwrapping her himself and smiling as her head and face
came into sight.

Together, they entered the main gallery and
climbed the staircase while Ellie told him about her day. “I was
surprised,” she admitted, “That no one came to call.”

“I’m not,” he smiled down at her. “I would
be surprised to see anyone for several more days even. We are,
after all, on our honeymoon.” He looked at her. “Did you wish for
your mother to call?” he asked quietly.

Ellie shrugged. “Not particularly,” she
answered, seeming surprised by her own answer, “Though I can’t say
that I’ve gone this long without seeing her since I was seventeen
and she and Papa came to London with only Edward.” She smiled. “At
the time, I was furious that I was being left to the care of my
governess.” Almost as if it was natural, they proceeded together
into her sitting room and turned to the dressing room.

“You don’t need one now,” Ashberry said,
pleased inwardly that he hadn’t so frightened her. If she hadn’t
felt the need to seek the support of her mother, he reasoned, he
couldn’t have upset her overly much.

EIGHT

Ellie saw the heavy rosewood jewelry cabinet
almost as soon as her skirts stopped their whispers on the floor.
“Oh!” she gasped, turning to Ashberry.

He nodded, affirming her unasked question,
smiling much as a victor at the end of a race when she rushed to it
and ran her hands over the polished wood. “Do you like it?” he
asked unnecessarily, leaning against the wall and watching her
trace the fine inlaid ebony that outlined each drawer pull, door
handle and the cover. Two wide, tall doors on the front locked with
an elegant brass key that Ellie examined carefully. Inside were a
plethora of small compartments and she lovingly opened each one,
testing each movement.

“Oh yes,” she finally answered, looking at
him curiously. “How did you know I needed this?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t really, except that
you have never worn much jewelry so I assumed you didn’t have the
need for one.”