Chapter Six #2
“Good. I trust you. Do not betray that.” She tried to make her voice as threatening as possible.
“I won’t.”
He looked serious. Grace believed him. She did not believe they had a marriage in name only.
She’d been at the ceremony, and she’d been with him the last several nights, and it was clear that even if this were not a love match, there was affection and attraction between them.
And after the nights they’d spent together, the idea of Owen with another woman made her want to pluck out her own eyes.
Instead, she sealed his promise with a kiss.
*
“Welcome to Caer Newydd,” Owen said as the carriage pulled up to a grand house.
“The newydd implies the house is new, but that only means it is two-hundred years old instead of five hundred some odd. Although apparently some mate of William the Conqueror built the original castle, or so the rumor goes, but the pile of stonework up the road was built by Edward I, and we Welsh have resented the British ever since. Edward hammered the Welsh before he hammered the Scots, you know.”
“I did not know.”
“My aunt will happily lecture you on notable moments in Welsh history. I warn you, there are loads of Llewellyns.”
“Does your aunt live here?”
“Morfudd keeps a house in town, but once she hears we are here, I imagine she will invite herself over.”
“So who is here now?”
A groom ran up and helped them out of the carriage. Owen led the way up the stairs to the front door.
“Just the staff, I should think,” said Owen.
The front doors suddenly flew open and a very tall man in livery stood at the door.
“Lord Caernarfon. Welcome home.”
“This is Driscoll,” said Owen. “Driscoll, this is my lovely bride, Grace.”
“Welcome, my lady. My lord, I will have tea service in the grand parlor if you’d like to adjourn there while we take care of your luggage.”
“That sounds nice, thank you.” Owen turned to Grace. “Would you like the tour first or would you rather have something to eat?”
“Definitely something to eat. I’m famished.”
Owen imagined a house of this size would make Grace feel overwhelmed. Owen felt overwhelmed sometimes; Caer Newydd was much larger than his home in London.
He led the way to the grand parlor. But first, they had to cross the main entrance, and what the staff referred to as the vestibule.
It wasn’t really a vestibule. The vaulted ceiling, the columns, the wide-open space was all a bit cold for Owen’s taste, although he was used to it. The rooms inside were much cozier.
He held out his arm for Grace, and she cupped her hand around his elbow. As they walked across the vestibule, Grace said, “This is…grand.”
“It’s ostentatious, I know.”
“Did I know you owned a house like this?” Grace sounded awed. “I suppose I did, but this is…”
Owen grinned. “I suppose I do have a few spare pounds to spend on nice living quarters. There’s actually a whole wing of the house I don’t really use. It’s too much for a single man without a family. But now that you’re here, if you want to spend some of my money to redecorate, I am open to it.”
“Did you decorate this house already?”
“Some of it. A lot of it was my mother. But I made some modernizations a few years ago. I’ll show you when we go up to our rooms later.”
“Rooms? Will we not share?”
Owen smiled. “That is not customary. Surely your parents kept separate bedrooms.”
Grace frowned. “Yes, but you and I shared a room and a bed on the road, and I thought that—”
“The lord and lady of the house have adjacent chambers upstairs, but you may sleep in my bed if you like. Anytime you want.”
They arrived at the grand parlor, which was just a few steps down a hallway from the vestibule.
The parlor was luxuriously appointed; Owen had seen to its decoration himself, and now that he looked again, he felt how dark and masculine it was.
But there were two high-backed chairs that faced each other across a small table, situated in front of a fireplace, where a small fire was already burning.
Owen pulled out one of the chairs for Grace, then he sat across from her.
The cook came in a moment later with a cart for tea. Owen was delighted to see that in addition to a teapot and cups, there was a tower of cakes, biscuits, and small sandwiches.
“Grace, this is Mrs. Jones, our cook. She bakes the best biscuits in Wales.”
“My lady, it is wonderful to meet you,” said Mrs. Jones. “I have soup cooking downstairs if you’d like that, too.”
“This will be fine,” said Grace. “Save the soup for dinner.”
“Yes, my lady.” Mrs. Jones bowed and left them.
Owen poured tea. He gestured at the milk, honey, and lemon that also sat on the cart.
“A little milk,” said Grace.
So they had tea together, and Owen enjoyed watching Grace taste one of Mrs. Jones’s biscuits, which really were light and crisp and very good.
After tea, Owen said, “Our luggage has probably been moved upstairs by now. Would you like to see our rooms?”
“I would.”
A grand staircase off the vestibule led them upstairs.
There were five bedrooms on this floor, which felt like more than anyone should need, but Owen supposed if he had more family, they’d take up more space.
When he’d written ahead to say he was coming, he’d asked that the master bedroom, which was where he’d been sleeping the last few times he’d stayed here, and the adjacent lady’s rooms be cleaned and decorated.
The staff had done a good job. Owen took Grace to his room first. A four-poster bed dominated the room, and it was covered in dark blue bedding.
After his father died, he’d swapped out the furniture, finding that sleeping near so many of the late earl’s things was too maudlin, so some of the furniture in his room here had come from London.
He’d also changed the art on the walls to be more his taste: a watercolor of the northern coast of Wales, a painting of what was left of Caernarfon Castle, and a painting he’d bought in London of the Thames near Westminster at dawn.
“This is lovely,” said Grace.
“Come with me,” Owen said. He led her into another chamber.
“I did not know the last time I was here that I would be bringing home a bride, but I can have some of these old clothes moved if you need more space for yours. This is my dressing room, and if you come through here…” Owen led her through a doorway, “this is the bathing room.”
Grace looked around. Owen was quite proud of the room. He’d had tiles installed so that when he got in and out of the tub, water splashing about wouldn’t ruin the floor. “And watch this!” He turned a knob on the tub and water flowed out.
“Impressive,” said Grace. “I didn’t realize water ran like that outside of London.”
“One of my modernizations. I had iron pipes installed in this part of the house. It was very expensive, but at least the staff don’t have to lug buckets of water upstairs just so I can bathe myself. Now come through here.”
He led her into a mostly empty dressing room. “This is your dressing room. I’m afraid we share the bathing chamber, but you can use this space here however you like.”
“It’s lovely,” said Grace, sounding genuine.
“And here is your bedchamber.”
A door in the dressing room opened into a bedroom.
Owen wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but this room had also been cleared of his parents’ things.
This had once been his mother’s room, but there was no longer any trace of her, and Owen was grateful.
The bed was covered in cream-colored bedding.
A pale armoire stood across from the bed.
Someone had hung a watercolor of flowers and a framed embroidery Owen recognized as something his sister had done when she was a girl, of a red dragon.
“You may, of course, redecorate however you see fit,” Owen said.
“You keep saying that.”
“I don’t have much of an eye for decoration, and I imagine in the coming years, you will spend more time here than I will. I want you to feel at home.” Owen frowned at the watercolor. “This is quite dull, for example, but we have other art available to hang here if you’d like to see it.”
“Perhaps not today. I am quite tired.”
“Yes. Of course.” Owen looked around. “I see the trunks have been brought up but not unpacked.”
“I should like to oversee the unpacking myself,” Grace said. “This, for example, is my potter’s wheel.” She put her hand on a large crate. “And I am still not quite sure where it should go. We should keep it boxed up until we decide.”
“Of course. Whatever you think is best.”
“You are allowed to disagree with me, you know.”
Owen smiled. “Like I said, I am merely trying to make you feel at home here.”
She walked over and put her hands on his shoulders. He enjoyed that she’d gotten bolder after the nights they’d spent together. He wanted her to be as aggressive as she wanted, to initiate intimacy between them on her terms. Frankly, he was happy to accommodate her in all things.
This beautiful, clever woman was his bride. He could scarcely believe it.
He kissed her.
“What was that for?” Grace asked as she pulled away.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe you’re mine.”
“And you’re mine,” she said. She kissed him back.
Someone nearby cleared his throat. Driscoll stood in the doorway. “Dinner will be served in the dining room in one hour,” he said.
“Driscoll, could you send a footman or two upstairs to help us unpack?”
“Of course, my lord.” He bowed and left.
“Well,” Owen said. “I suppose we should get to it.”