More, he wanted to give her the choice to love if she wished—if she dared.
If, like him, she came to count the subtle and immutable joys of loving as worth every iota of the concomitant vulnerability.
Quite how he had got to his present state, he didn’t know and honestly didn’t care. Living his life beside her felt so right, it was impossible to question that he and she were where they needed to be.
Together.
Feeling her soft, warm weight against his side, he closed his eyes—and consigned the question of how to vanquish her fears to the morrow.
On the afternoon of the following day—the fourth after they had arrived at Brampton Hall—they sustained their first bride visit.
“That’s Lady Cormanby’s carriage.” Frederick narrowed his eyes on the old-fashioned equipage as it lumbered around the curve of the drive, heading for the forecourt. “And I’ll wager she’s brought her son and daughter with her—she’ll want to foist them on your acquaintance.”
He and Stacie were mounted; after luncheon, they’d gone out riding over the estate’s lands to the west, purely to familiarize her with them. She was eager to learn about the estate and those who worked on it; his tenant farmers had been delighted to welcome her and, he’d judged, they’d all been thrilled that, so early in her tenure, she’d come riding out to meet them. He and she had been on their way back when he’d spotted the carriage and drawn rein in the trees off the drive, effectively screened from the forecourt and the porch.
Beside his heavy black, the chestnut mare he’d had saddled for Stacie danced as Stacie craned her head and watched the carriage roll into the forecourt. “We can’t ride off and avoid her, you know.”
He grunted; that was, in fact, what he’d been about to suggest. “It’s only the fourth day after our wedding. Isn’t she supposed to give us at least a week?” He knew he sounded as if he was whining; that was because he was. He’d expected not to have to share Stacie with anyone else—much less a nosy neighbor—for at least the regulation seven days.
“Yes, she should have waited, but she’s here now.” Stacie glanced at him, read his reluctance in his eyes, and smiled commiseratingly. “Come on—let’s ride to the stables, then you can introduce me to her and her children. I promise I’ll get rid of them after twenty minutes.”
His brows rose at that, and he nodded. “All right.” Watching Lady Cormanby put to rout would be worth the initial irritation.
Stacie felt very much on her mettle as, still in her riding habit, she preceded Frederick to the formal drawing room where Hughes had deposited Lady Cormanby and her two adult children. A faintly intrigued smile on her lips—one conveying welcome but also surprise—Stacie swept into the room, bringing all three callers to their feet.
Frederick trailed after her, and she aimed her smile at their visitors. “Good afternoon.”
“Lady Albury. Lord Albury.” Lady Cormanby dipped into a regulation curtsy, one her daughter hurriedly mimicked, while her son bowed deeply. The son was barely in his twenties and looked distinctly uncomfortable, while the daughter, possibly a year or two younger, wore an expression that suggested she wished she were anywhere but there.
In contrast, Lady Cormanby’s gaze was sharp and inquisitive; she was a heavy woman trussed into a gown the frills and ruffles of which did her no favors. Rising from her curtsy, she looked pointedly at Frederick.
With languid grace, he stepped forward. “My dear, allow me to introduce Lady Cormanby, Miss Cormanby, and Mr. William Cormanby, of Cormanby Manor, some miles to our south.”
Stacie bestowed gracious nods upon the three, then, with a wave, invited them to sit. While Lady Cormanby and her daughter settled on the chaise and the son claimed a straight-backed chair set to one side, Stacie sank gracefully into one of the armchairs angled before the huge fireplace. As Frederick moved past her to take up a position beside her, leaning against the mantelpiece, she sent him an appreciative look. Brief though his introduction had been, he’d told her that Lady Cormanby was a neighbor, but not one with whom they shared a boundary.
“I hope, my lord, my lady,” Lady Cormanby said in her rather mannish voice, “that you will overlook our precipitousness in calling, but we are due to travel into Cornwall tomorrow, and I couldn’t leave the district without calling in person to offer our family’s felicitations on your marriage.”
Stacie smiled brightly. “Why, thank you. I do hope it’s not any sort of family emergency that compels you to travel to Cornwall?”
Lady Cormanby colored. “Well, no—but I’d thought to visit my sister and her family. Mind you, Cormanby isn’t keen, and his chest is bothering him, so it’s possible we might have to delay.”
“And where in Cornwall does your sister live?”
Lady Cormanby faintly frowned. “In Truro.”
“That’s a pleasant place—I’ve visited several times. Tell me—” And Stacie rattled on, leading the conversation down whatever rabbit hole Lady Cormanby, in answering Stacie’s incessant questions, alluded to.
She paused only to offer refreshments, which were somewhat gratefully accepted, but even when Hughes had delivered the tea and cakes and she poured, Stacie didn’t ease her relentless and rather ruthless interrogation.
To any question Lady Cormanby sought to ask, such as how long they thought to remain in the country, Stacie returned brief, uninformative answers—“I really can’t say”—before turning the question back on her ladyship, for instance with “I assume you’re based at Cormanby Manor, but you mentioned your sister—do y
ou visit family often? Where?” and so on.
With amused appreciation, Frederick watched and learned, and sure enough, a few minutes past the twenty Stacie had suggested, Lady Cormanby, looking rather dazed, set down her empty cup, gathered her children with a look, and rose. “Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Albury, but we really must be going.”
Stacie rose, too, and with every appearance of having enjoyed her ladyship’s company, walked with their visitors back into the front hall and onto the porch. Frederick followed and halted beside her. As Lady Cormanby nodded in farewell, Stacie smiled and said, “I hope you enjoy Cornwall.”
Her ladyship blinked. “Cornwall?” Then she colored. “Ah—yes, Cornwall. Truro. Indeed.” With a last vague nod, she followed her children down the steps.