Chemistry of Magic: Unexpected Magic Book Five (Unexpected Magic #5)(21)
She shook her head. “It’s late, and they are newly married and still sorting out their household. It would be an imposition. If there is no sign of intruders upstairs, we should see what we can manage here for the night.”
Robert, the tall footman who had accompanied their borrowed berlin, met them at the foot of the stairs. “Servants quarters in the attic and main chambers haven’t been occupied in a while, my lady,” he reported. “Covers over everything. Attic shows no leaks. I opened windows to cool off the rooms.”
“They knew they were leaving,” Dare said grimly. “The executor definitely has some explaining to do.”
Emilia gestured toward the kitchen stairs. “Robert, perhaps you and James would prefer the cooler rooms below for tonight. Bessie can have one of the smaller chambers upstairs near us.” She glanced at her tall husband, who looked both angry and weary. “Do you think the driver will be all right in the stable? Shall we ask?”
With a curt nod, he sent Robert out to discuss the situation with the marquess’s driver. Bessie and James followed to fetch the feather mattress and baggage.
“I might not be the bargain you’d hoped to gain, my lord,” she said in a low voice as they climbed the stairs to inspect the chambers for themselves.
Her husband’s grip tightened on her shoulders. “Call me, Dare, please. And no, I am not unhappy about the prize I have won. I don’t much care where or how I live so long as I have a roof over my head. The people under that roof are what matter to me.”
He pressed a kiss to her hair to reassure her. Emilia wasn’t reassured. She wasn’t born yesterday and knew he was practiced at using words to flatter and soothe.
She had never lived without a full complement of servants. She didn’t even know how to hire one. Her honeymoon was not the time to discover that she had been woefully sheltered from reality.
They chose the wide suite of rooms overlooking the front lawn. Emilia remembered her grandfather sleeping in a smaller chamber near the stairs. He’d always called this larger one the Queen’s Chamber and let Emilia sleep there when she came to visit.
Dare opened the casement windows so James could shake out the mattresses to be used for the night. Bessie made up the beds when they were done. Emilia used a rag for a dust cloth and rubbed away some of the dust, although it filled the air and set her husband to coughing again.
“We need hot water for washing,” Bessie insisted once the big bed was made.
“I believe there is a pump in the kitchen,” Emilia said without confidence. “But I have no idea if the chimneys will allow a fire.”
“I’ll take a look,” the valet offered. “The pump will need priming.”
Immensely grateful that they’d brought their personal servants, wondering what they would have done had they arrived without any, Emilia suggested that the remainder of the luncheon basket contents be distributed among them.
Once everyone had scattered to their tasks, she winced as her husband opened the bottle of patent medicine. She could hardly blame him for seeking relief. He had to be exhausted.
She had initially thought he would stay in London and leave her to sleep here alone. When he’d insisted on traveling with her, she’d debated what room to put him in. And now, it seemed the matter was settled without discussion. The servants expected them to share a bed. Dare expected it. She. . . really ought to think about it, but she couldn’t push past the need to learn more of lust. Foolish of her.
Nervously, she studied the old bed with its high square posts. The extra mattress hadn’t added much height, but it was a tall bed. And not terribly wide. Her travel trunk, valise, and book satchel had been carried into the dressing room next door. There was no cot there for Bessie, so her maid had chosen a small chamber beyond that.
Emilia was alone with her husband, with no good reason not to indulge in sexual congress. But now that weariness had set in, and she was faced with reality, she was having doubts.
Lord Dare shrugged out of his coat without waiting for the return of his valet. Should she do the same? Bessie knew Emilia usually undressed herself in the late hours when she returned from her studies. She never came unless called.
Emilia swallowed and gazed longingly at the dressing room. He had said she must be honest and direct. She never knew what to say. So she said nothing. She simply left the main chamber to change in the smaller one—promptly bumping her nose on a wardrobe in the darkness.
She knew she was blessed with above-average intelligence, but sometimes she had the sense of an earwig. Without light, she had to fumble to find a lamp and return to the big chamber to light it.
Dare had stripped to his shirtsleeves and was unfastening the flap of his trousers. When she reappeared, he stopped to fill and light the lamp for her.
“It’s a good thing they left oil and clean wicks,” he muttered. “I cannot fault the staff. It is your executor who will feel the brunt of my wrath.”
“I think we should ask around in the village first, see if we can locate any of the staff. My father would never have allowed an incompetent executor to manage my inheritance, I’m sure.” Her husband’s masculine proximity acutely reminded her of what they had done earlier. Beneath his linen, his shoulder muscles bulged most interestingly, and she was over-curious about what waited behind the placket of his trousers. The lust haze obscured rationality again.