Chapter Six
Cheetham Hall, Sussex
Two days later
They had only been married for a week, Emily thought as she sat down to breakfast, but she already felt a sense of companionable comfort in the daily routine they had established.
“It’s from Aberdeen,” Deo said, breaking open the letter beside his breakfast plate. “He says,” his eyes scanned the page as he spoke, “that there is a find he wants us to investigate. Good lord, it’s at The Castle!”
“Where?” Emily said, pausing with her buttered toast halfway to her mouth.
“The Duke of Troubridge’s place. Well, well, that is a turn up for the books. You’ll like this; it’s a Celtic cross with a possible burial. How about that?” He lowered the letter and grinned at her.
“Oh!” The Duke of Troubridge! She swallowed a sip of tea, trying to compose her thoughts.
“Aren’t you excited? This is right in your sphere.”
“Yes, yes, very excited, I—I was just surprised, that’s all.”
“We will need to leave at once. It will take us several days to get there. The Castle is in Leicestershire.”
Don’t panic! Will the Duke of Troubridge even remember you? Yes, silly, he’s not in his dotage! He danced with you several times. Mama was ecstatic, she thought he was a serious contender!
“Robert must have written to the Antiquaries Society to report the find. I remember him—or was it Emrys?—mentioning it last year. Aberdeen seems to think it might be significant and urges us to investigate immediately.”
“You know the Duke of Troubridge?”
“Lord, yes. He’s one of my closest friends. We went to Cambridge together.”
“Oh. That—that’s nice.”
“He married Sarah Watson. Lovely woman, you’ll like her—she’s about your age,” he said, oblivious to her internal turmoil.
What am I going to do? The duke will be sure to recognize me. There is no help for it. I will have to reveal my true name and age. But when will be the best time to do it? Not—not now. Her craven heart pleaded.
A week of marriage to Deo had already taught her to pick her moments.
He had warned her his temperament was volatile.
She should have listened to him. He could go from seemingly quite jovial and happy, like now, to a thundercloud in the twinkling of an eye and for a bewilderingly wide array of reasons that made little obvious sense.
As his wife, however, she thought it behooved her to learn to understand those reasons and seek ways to ameliorate them.
After all, he was a wonderful man with a brilliant archaeological mind, and—she trembled a little with giddiness at the reality—he was now her husband.
Her momentary euphoria dipped. Telling him she had lied to him about her name and age were going to be two reasons for him to be quite justifiably angry with her, and she needed to pick a moment when she could manage his response.
Twenty years acquaintance with her mother had taught her a lot about handling people with an uncertain temper.
“Shall we take Kester?” she asked, postponing the inevitable.
“Of course. Go and have a look at the library, my dear, and select the texts you might need. I’ll get out my dig equipment.” He rose, rubbing his hands. “This will be fun!”
She nodded and rose as well, remembering to smile.
It is a wonderful opportunity. A literal dream come true, if I didn’t have this cloud of deceit hanging over me.
Making her way to the library, she supposed it served her right for lying in the first place.
She should have told him the truth before they were married.
But she had been afraid he wouldn’t go through with it and that he would contact her parents and send her home. He might still do that!
A little voice in her head said, No, he won’t! I won’t let him!
*
They left for Leicestershire the next day.
Deo had decreed they would stay in his townhouse in London on the way.
What a difference there was between traveling in one’s own, comfortable, well-sprung carriage with a team of fast horses and biding one’s time in a lumbering stagecoach.
The trip that had taken her over four days on her own, they accomplished in one.
A long day it was, true—but a single day, nevertheless.
But then they didn’t have to trudge miles on foot, carrying a heavy bag, and wait for hours for a coach, all the while terrified her father would appear to drag her home.
And they didn’t have to change coaches twice with lengthy waits between each and then walk miles at the other end, again with a heavy bag.
This journey was quite pleasant, all things considered. Kester slept on the forward seat, and she and Deo shared the other. At one point Deo looked up from his book and said, “We should stay in London long enough for you to buy some clothes. You didn’t bring many gowns with you, did you?”
Startled, she said, “No, I—” She had been going to say she had planned to have her things sent on, but of course she couldn’t do that.
Oh, gosh, if I go shopping in Bond Street, I could run into Mama.
“I don’t need gowns, Deo. Really, what I have is adequate for grubbing about in a dig! ” she protested.
He shook his head. “We will be staying with the duke and duchess. They may well be entertaining; they often are. You will need evening dress suitable for dinner, apart from anything else.”
“Oh dear, I didn’t think of that.”
He smiled. “Don’t worry. Go and see a modiste; let her take your measurements, and she can send the dresses on. If you need something before they arrive, you can probably borrow something from Lady Ava’s wardrobe.”
“Lady Ava?”
“The duke’s eldest sister. She is about your size, in height at least.” He frowned. “I think she might have a bit more curvature. But that’s all to the good. It is easier to take seams in than let them out, I should think.”
Digesting this in silence and trying not to mind that the Lady Ava had more “curvature” and that he’d noticed, she returned to her book.
It was late when they arrived in London at his house in Grosvenor Square.
At Cheetham Court they had made no changes to the sleeping arrangements—she had remained in the green room, and Deo remained in his.
But the earl’s sudden arrival at his townhouse with a wife threw the London servants into a flurry, and she was automatically shown to the suite belonging to her husband.
This included two bedchambers, two dressing rooms, and a shared sitting room between them.
Mrs. Armiston, the housekeeper, was most apologetic.
“I’m so sorry, your ladyship, but his lordship didn’t tell us!
I would have aired the room and dusted it.
As it is, I’ll have to change the sheets, and you’re so tired after your long journey.
But don’t you worry. The mattress has been turned and beaten regular, and we’ve fresh pillows and coverlets in the storeroom. ”
The earl stood in the doorway, his hands on his hips.
“Very good, Mrs. Armiston. And can you have Jenny wait on her ladyship? She doesn’t have her maid with her.
” His gaze travelled to the portrait of a woman with a pair of Irish Setters above the mantle.
“This room hasn’t been used since my mother passed away. ”
Seeing Emily’s expression, he said, “Don’t worry, she didn’t die here—it was at Cheetham. I’ll leave you to freshen up and see you for supper downstairs. Send her to the library, will you, Mrs. Armiston? We will eat in there.” He turned and walked off, leaving Emily feeling rather winded.
“If that’s not just like him!” clucked Mrs. Armiston, who was a big-bosomed woman in her fifties.
“I’ve known him since he was a lad,” she said confidingly.
“He never did have any sensibility, just like his father. Never mind. We will make you comfortable, your ladyship, and right welcome you are too. Thought he’d never marry, we did,” she said, bustling about, stripping sheets off the bed.
“I’ll have Jenny bring up the hot water to you straight,” she said and left before Emily could say anything.
She had visions of her mother telling her to depress the pretensions of servants being overly familiar, but she couldn’t see herself doing so to the likes of Mrs. Armiston.
When she had agreed to marry Deo, she hadn’t thought about the position and responsibilities that would come with it.
She was now forcibly reminded of both. She was reminded, too, that she needed to tell him sooner than later about her identity before he went introducing her to too many more people.
*
An hour later Emily went downstairs, having washed and changed and with the knowledge that her bed would be ready and waiting for her when she returned.
She found the library with directions and pushed open the heavy carved door to reveal a room made cozy by a large fire in the grate and the comfort of books lining the walls.
She felt immediately at home, wondering what delights this second library held.
Deo was seated before the fire in a large comfortable armchair, his feet stretched out toward the blaze and by Kester’s head.
He had changed, too, and was looking quite casual and comfortable, sans neckcloth, and wearing a robe over his shirt and breeches.
It was the most undressed she had ever seen him, and she felt herself blushing.
“My lord—”
He looked up from the book he was reading.
“Ah, there you are.” He rose and the robe, which was untied, fell open, giving her a glimpse of his shirt-covered chest. The swell of his pectorals was visible above his flat stomach, and she swallowed, dragging her eyes away hastily.
Kester, seemingly worn out after sleeping all day in the carriage, raised his head, yawned, and put it back down with a sigh.
“Come, dinner’s over here.” He led her to a small, round dining table with two chairs drawn up to it and an array of dishes upon it.