Miss Winthorpe's Elopement (Belston & Friends #1)(58)

She thought to comment on the coal burning in London, and the noise of the traffic, which were impediments to the climate and perfectly rational explanations for the changes he described. If the Welsh air smelled of anything, she suspected it was sheep, for there were flocks in many of the pastures they were passing. She smiled at him. ‘Black sheep?’

He grinned at her and nodded. ‘Perhaps it is symbolic.’ He looked critically at the flocks. ‘But there are not as many as there should be. It was a hard winter, with a late spring and a dry summer.’ He shook his head.

She looked out the window at the land they were passing. The year had obviously been difficult. The fields and gardens were not as green as she expected them to be, nor the crops as large. But the tenants appeared happy; as the carriage passed, people in the fields looked up and smiled. They dropped curtsies, removed caps and offered occasional shy waves.

And Adam smiled back and surveyed the land with a critical eye and a touch of possessiveness. He had missed it. And no matter how at ease he had seemed in London, he belonged here.

The carriage slowed as it came up the long curved drive and pulled abreast of the house, and he leaned forward in his seat as though his body strained to be even closer to home. When the footman opened the carriage door, he stepped out, forgetting her. He was immediately surrounded by a pack of dogs, barking, wagging and nudging him with wet noses for his attention. He patted and stroked, calling them by name and reaching absently into a coat pocket for treats that he was not carrying.

She watched him from the door of the carriage as he was drawn like a lodestone to the open front door. And even the butler, whose kind were not known for their exuberant displays of emotion, was smiling to see the return of the master of the house.

Adam took a step forwards, and then froze and turned back to her, embarrassment colouring his face. He strode back to the carriage and reached up to offer her his hand to help her down, making a vague gesture that seemed to encompass his brief abandonment of her. Then he laughed at himself and kicked the step out of the way, held both hands out to her and said, ‘Jump.’

She stared at him in amazement. ‘Why ever for?’

‘Trust me. I will catch you.’

She shook her head. ‘This is nonsense.’

‘Perhaps. But the sooner you do it, the sooner it will be done. Now, do as I say.’

He showed no sign of relenting, and at last she closed her eyes, and stepped from the carriage into open air.

He caught her easily under the arms, and let her slide down his body until her slippered feet were standing on his boots. The closeness of their bodies was shocking, and she meant to pull away, but he was smiling down at her with such ease that a part of her did not wish to move ever again.

He said softly, ‘There are customs about brides and thresholds, are there not? You must not stumble, or it would be bad luck to us both.’

She pointed to the house. ‘I see no reason to hold to superstition. There is nothing wrong with my legs, and the way is not strewn with disaster. I think I can manage.’ But it felt good to be held so close to him.

‘You have been very lucky for me, up ’til now. It is better to be safe than sorry. Perhaps it were best if I were to see you safely into the house.’ And before she could object, he scooped an arm beneath her knees and had lifted her into his arms.

She surprised herself by squealing in delight. She should have demanded that he let her down immediately, and that it was all highly undignified. But instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck, tipped back her head and laughed into the Welsh sunshine. The crowd of dogs still milling about them had to jump to nudge and sniff her as well. And even as he took care to guide her through the pack, she could feel the strain of his body, wanting to go faster and take the last few steps at a run to be inside his house again.

As they passed the butler, the man bowed to her as well as her husband, and murmured, ‘Your Grace, welcome home. And welcome to you as well, your Grace. May I offer my congratulations?’

Adam nodded, as though his heart were too full to speak, and held her even closer, before taking the last step that brought them both into the house. Then he set her down and took her by the hand to lead her into the entry, where the servants were assembled.

The introduction was easier than it had been on the first day in the townhouse, and she hoped that this was a sign that she was adjusting to her new role as well. Although it might have had something to do with the change in the man beside her, who was neither as distant nor as superior. When he smiled with pride as he spoke to the staff, she had a hard time distinguishing whether it was happiness with them, or his eagerness for them to meet her. And she could not help but smile as well.

At last, he held out his hand in a broad gesture and said, ‘Your new home,’ as though the manor were a person and the introduction would result in a response.

She looked up at the high ceilings, and the wide marble steps that led to the second floor of rooms and a portrait gallery above them.

She could feel his hesitation next to her. He wanted her to like it. And how could she not? It was the grandest house she’d ever seen. Although the idea that it was to be her home was faintly ridiculous.

‘The roof needs new slate,’ he said in apology. ‘But that is the way it is with all old homes. Something is always in need of repair. And nothing has been done in decoration for many years. But the part that is undamaged by the fire is warm and clean, and I find it most comfortable.’