Chapter Ten
When Winifred awoke at sunrise, it was with a sense of bubbling excitement she hadn’t experienced in years, despite the absurdly early hour.
If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel Marcus’s icy, chapped lips pressed to her palm and his tongue caressing her thumb.
It had been far more intimate than the chaste kiss they’d shared, and she found she was almost as eager to see him again as she was to find the expansive library he’d described in his letters.
Before any of that, however, she had to properly meet the staff. Her new role as the mistress of the household came with responsibilities.
A knock had her drawing back the covers. “Come in.”
A slight girl bustled inside, wearing a white, frilly apron over a light-blue blouse, a skirt of a slightly darker color, and a white bonnet covering her coal-black hair.
It was the same maid who had assisted Winifred with donning and removing her wedding dress the previous evening.
The girl dipped into a deep curtsey. “Good morning, my lady.”
Winifred blinked. She’s nearly forgotten her new title.
It would be difficult to get used to being referred to in such a manner.
She was tempted to tell the maid to call her by her given name, but she knew enough about the social hierarchy of a proper household to dismiss the idea.
It would only strain her relationship with the staff, who would most likely prefer formality.
Not to mention, if Winifred’s mother heard any of the servants speaking so casually to their new employer, Mrs. Belltree would undoubtedly express her disapproval by making herself even more of a nuisance than usual.
The young maid rose from her curtsey. “I am Flora Keenan.”
“Keenan,” Winifred repeated.
The maid turned to the wardrobe. “What would you like to wear today, my lady?”
“The indigo print cotton day dress with the cap sleeves,” she said.
It was fine enough for her tour of the castle, but not so tight-fitting that she would be uncomfortable.
After her family departed, she would endeavor to find out how to purchase new garments, but for now, the clothing she had transported from Toronto would suffice.
When Keenan had dressed her and tamed her wild hair by braiding it into a lovely plait, Winifred felt ready to take up her responsibilities. It would be a long day, but her mother had seen to it she’d achieved a proper education that had included everything the wife of a lord had to know.
Even if she’d rather have spent the day reading.
Hours later, as she bit into her third cucumber sandwich from inside the glass-enclosed solarium she’d discovered on the second floor, she cursed her poor choice of slippers.
The halls were almost entirely without carpeting or rugs, which meant that much less padding between the sensitive soles of her feet and the hard stone.
She would have to invest in better footwear as soon as possible.
The morning had been a flurry of activity.
Mrs. Gillanders had insisted upon leading her through the entire building, even having the staff line up along the wall.
There weren’t nearly as many servants as she’d expected, perhaps because Marcus was not known for entertaining.
She was now the employer of nearly fifty people, most of whom lived in the village.
That was a surprise, as the castle was more than large enough to house twice as many.
When she’d asked Mrs. Gillanders, the woman had blushed and muttered something about ghosts that had made Winifred chuckle.
After that, Winifred had approved menus and selected activities to entertain her guests for the afternoon.
The scope of it all was exhausting, but it was a small price to pay.
In a few days, her guests would leave, and then she would be free.
Assuming Marcus kept his promises.
“Did you have a restful night?” Felicity asked as she dipped a biscuit into her tea. She had joined Winifred during her tour of the castle. Mrs. Gillanders had huffed at the addition, but Winifred hadn’t had the heart to send her cousin away.
“I assisted Marcus in his workshop,” Winifred said.
Felicity’s grin fell. “You spent your first night as a married woman engaged in a scientific inquiry?” She chuckled. “I should not be surprised. Perhaps I was wrong when I counseled you against this marriage. It does seem to suit you.”
“I would hope so. That is why I came all the way across the ocean, after all. If all I’d wanted was a suitable marriage, I could have chosen from the many eligible gentlemen in Toronto.
” What Marcus offered was invaluable; an opportunity to be closer to her cousin and pursue her research to her heart’s content.
Most men would have insisted she occupy her time with more ladylike pursuits.
Felicity’s brother, Vincent, for example, had once bribed a maid into helping him steal books from Winifred’s bedchamber after she’d slighted him in public.
She couldn’t imagine Marcus ever behaving so pettily.
“Did you ask him about hiring me?” Felicity asked.
Winifred shook her head. “The moment did not feel right. I am waiting for the perfect opportunity to increase the chances of success.”
She picked up a garlic and cheese scone.
They were buttery and soft without being too crumbly.
She ate two before a servant arrived with a glass dish containing something called Cranachan.
At the first bite, she closed her eyes and sighed.
The combination of oats, honey, and fresh raspberries was delightful.
Felicity spun her saucer in circles with her fingertips. “I cannot stop thinking that this entire situation is unusual. Have you noticed there are hardly any mirrors, and every window has thick drapes? It makes me wonder what the earl is trying to hide.”
Winifred sipped her drink to keep from responding with a sharp retort. First Felicity had cautioned her against marrying Marcus, then she’d had suggested Winifred’s new husband was dangerous, and now this? It was difficult not to feel insulted on Marcus’s behalf. “He simply prefers solitude.”
“Perhaps,” Felicity said. “But then why ask you to come all this way?”
Winifred tamped down her irritation. “What do you mean?”
Felicity heaved a sigh. “Why find a wife in Canada when there are plenty of ladies in Scotland who would have leaped at a chance to become a countess? There must be something else the earl wants from you.”
“An assistant,” Winifred said quickly, but her words lacked the conviction she’d intended. A small part of her shared Felicity’s concern. Marcus was wealthy, handsome, and titled. The daughter of newly wealthy merchants was hardly an excellent match in comparison.
“I envy you,” Felicity blurted out.
Winifred almost choked. Her daring cousin, a woman who refused to back down from any challenge, no matter how foolish…
envied her. The bookish wallflower who spent so much time lost in books that there was a chaise in her parents’ library permanently impressioned with the shape of her body.
It was so ridiculous, it made her burst into laughter.
“It’s true,” Felicity said. She furrowed her brow and stared into her empty cup.
“You knew exactly what you wanted and when an opportunity presented itself, you seized it.” Her shoulders slumped.
“Meanwhile, our uncle will not even grant me an audience to discuss my future, and Vincent spends several nights a month working on a secret project in the basement.”
Vincent working on a secret project? Winifred thought that unlikely. The man had never expressed an interested in science or crafts.
Felicity pursed her lips. “Lately, I feel like an intruder in my own home.”
Winifred reached across the table and put her hand on top of her cousin’s. “I’m sorry. You have my word that I will speak to the earl about it today.”
Felicity shook her head. “Enough about me. Tell me more about him.”
Winifred sighed. She did not like Felicity’s evasiveness, but she knew her cousin well enough to not steer the conversation back to an obviously painful topic. She would have to come up with a different way to find out what was bothering Felicity.
“He is an inventor, as you know,” Winifred said.
“His workshop is full of the most remarkable machines.” Including the one she had assisted him with that used centrifugal force.
Seeing his experiments made her feel strangely at ease with her unusual situation.
It would have been easy for him to lie in his letters, to pretend to be something he wasn’t, but everything she’d seen since arriving suggested Marcus was exactly as she’d expected: an intelligent but desperately lonely man.
His need for assistance was not because of any lack of skill or knowledge, but the inevitable result of working alone for an extended length of time.
He’d become trapped in his own mind and lost the perspective that was necessary for true innovation.
“What is his topic of interest?” Felicity asked.
“I am not entirely sure.” Despite having corresponded for months, she knew vanishingly little about what he was trying to achieve. He had mentioned an illness in his livestock, but he had not specified what he would do when he identified the cause.
“Wait,” Felicity said. She checked the time on her delicate rose gold chatelaine watch. “We have nearly an hour until your mother is likely to awaken. Why are we lounging about drinking tea when we could be exploring the library?”
Winifred laughed. “I suppose you are right.”
They had uttered identical gasps when Mrs. Gillanders had swung open the doors during the tour, but the housekeeper had barely given them a minute to admire the impressive space before she’d moved on.
Felicity rose. “Shall we?”
“Yes,” Winifred said. “We shall.”
The two women exited the solarium, arm-in-arm.
When they arrived at their destination, Winifred barely suppressed a squeal.
Marcus had not been exaggerating when he’d described his library.
It must have been a ballroom at one point, as the floor was polished marble, but there were rows upon rows of shelves, as far as she could see.
Winifred met Felicity’s gaze, and in that moment, an understanding passed between them.
They enjoyed each other’s company, but a treasure such as the one before them required solitary investigation.
Felicity turned left, and Winifred right.
To Winifred’s immense satisfaction, the first books she ran her fingers over were historical manuscripts.
Most she had read, but there were a few she did not recognize.
She removed several and tucked them beneath her arm before continuing to the next shelf.
It was less exciting, containing dusty religious tomes and treatises on various sciences.
She had more luck several minutes later as she stumbled on truly rare handwritten journals of explorers.
She had to restrain herself from heaping them all in her arms—there were only so many she could read in a day—but she made a mental note to ask Marcus where he had found them.
As she turned toward the window, a set of bright-blue spines caught her attention. She tugged one out and flipped it open to a random page, which contained a remarkably detailed illustration of a naked couple.
Her cheeks warmed. Was it even possible to contort one’s body in such a manner? It seemed as if it would be quite painful, although the woman on the page certainly did not appear to be in distress. Her eyes were closed, but her expression was one of bliss.
Winifred leaned against a bookshelf and imagined Marcus sliding his palms up her shins and pressing ardent kisses to her stomach. The secret place between her thighs throbbed, making her wish for the privacy of her room.
Unfortunately, her time was not yet her own.
She reluctantly closed the book and added it to the top of her teetering stack.
Perhaps she was torturing herself by keeping it, but the way Marcus had touched her the previous night had sparked an unexpected interest in pursuing the physical aspects of marriage.
If nothing else, the illustrations would be something titillating to look at when she lay in her bed alone at night.
Heavily laden with texts, she made her way to a table by a window and settled in a stiff-backed wooden chair. She opened the first of her books, tilted the pages into the sunlight, and immersed herself in a different world.