It was just that she had never expected him to dump her like a carriage with a broken wheel.
Holding onto her pride, Thea sailed past Sally through the front door and tossed aside her cloak and gloves, looking for something to divert her. Easily done: The foyer was pleasingly spacious and symmetrical, with a staircase running up each painting-covered wall. Under the split staircase, a large double door opened onto a courtyard garden. On a pedestal sat a welcoming arrangement of fresh flowers.
Turning, she spied a trio of maids goggling at her. They giggled, bobbed curtsies, and darted away.
“Forgive their excitement, my lady,” Sally said, joining her. “Everyone was so happy to hear his lordship was married.”
“Um.” Thea tried to swallow away her guilt. “That’s very kind.”
“He has lived alone for a long time. If we served dinner in the dining room, he would have little choice but to dine there with you or starve.”
Thea had to smile at the housekeeper’s insubordination. How diverting it would be, to conspire with Sally against Luxborough! But Sally was matchmaking and Thea was being silly.
“You are very kind, but I’m sure he and I will reach an agreement.”
Avoiding the questions in Sally’s eyes, Thea wandered to the open doors under the staircase. From here, she could see that the house was shaped like a horseshoe around this courtyard garden, all manicured lawns, sculpted shrubs, and colorful flowerbeds.
She turned back to Sally. “There is no need to go to any trouble. I am easy to please, and it is such a lovely house.”
“Everything is in excellent condition, and the rooms are ready for your use. Guest rooms, nursery, and schoolrooms above and… Although Master Rafe—I mean, his lordship—only uses his study and occasionally the library. Shall I show you to your apartment first?”
Without waiting for a reply, Sally started up the stairs and Thea followed her. The staircase emerged into a long portrait gallery. The housekeeper turned left and continued without pausing, but Thea lingered to scan the paintings.
“Where is Lord Luxborough’s portrait?” she called.
“He never sat for one. Your rooms are this way,” Sally prompted her from one end of the gallery.
Thea looked toward the dark doorway at the other end. “What’s through there?”
“That leads to the other wing of the house, and his lordship’s rooms.”
“I see.”
Thea followed Sally out of the portrait gallery and around a corner to a long corridor lined with doors on one side and windows on the other. She stopped to push open a window and looked out onto the courtyard garden and the opposite wing. So, her fake husband’s bedroom lay over there. How odd aristocrats were. They made such a fuss about who married whom, but once they were married, they slept so far apart, they might as well be in different villages.
Turning back, she saw Sally disappear through a doorway, so she slammed the window shut and dashed after her. But once inside the door, she skidded to a halt and laughed, despite everything. These rooms were quite the loveliest she had ever been in. They were decorated in peach and yellow, with thick carpets, elegantly carved furniture, fresh flowers, and whimsical paintings. She wandered through the apartment, amazed it was all for her: a dressing room and bathing area; a bedroom dominated by a canopied bed so enormous it had its own staircase; an even larger sitting room, which was fitted out with a daybed under the window, settees by the fireplace, and a dining table.
For her meals. Alone.
She would not be silly about this. For three years she had dined alone; another few days hardly signified. Being a fake countess would provide her with plenty of pleasure, and she would not complain.
Resolutely, Thea crossed to the window to take in its spectacular view over the gardens, and the woodlands and fields beyond.
“None of this is as I expected,” she said.
“What did Luxborough tell you to expect?”
“He didn’t tell me much at all.”
“He never was one for talking.”
Thea whirled about. “Ooh, what was he like as a boy?”
“Quiet, solitary, thoughtful.” Sally’s face softened with a fond half smile. “Always going off on his own. He preferred to roam the woods than be in anyone’s company. By contrast, the rest of his family were gregarious and loud and could not bear to be alone for an afternoon. Eldritch, some called him. Said there was something wrong with him.”
“But there isn’t!” Thea protested. “That’s simply how he is. Although I cannot imagine him giving a flying farthing for anyone’s opinion. And I suppose…” She trailed a finger over the window frame. “In turn, he does not label people or judge them, but rather accepts people as they are. It’s one of the things I most like about him.”