Marry Me At Willoughby Close by Kate Hewitt

Author:Kate Hewitt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tule Publishing
Published: 2017-07-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

“Why the long face?”

“Huh?” Alice snapped out of her reverie to give Jace an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’m just tired.”

They were standing in the morning room of Willoughby Manor, weak, watery sunlight filtering through the long sashed windows and illuminating all the dust. Alice had cleaned the room a week or two ago, but she’d hardly know it now.

Jace’s expression softened. “Are you worried about Lady Stokeley?”

“Concerned for her,” Alice answered.

Although, to her shame, it wasn’t Lady Stokeley who had occupied her thoughts for most of a sleepless night. It had been her nephew. Alice had relived every glorious second of that kiss in all its excruciatingly wonderful detail, and then she’d done a pointless postmortem of their conversation afterward, trying to figure out if she should have responded differently, or if something more emotional and hopeful had been going on underneath Henry’s terse exterior. She came to the resounding and bitter conclusion that probably nothing had.

“It will be hard,” Jace said slowly, “giving up even this much independence.”

“Yes.” Alice looked around the morning room with a sigh.

She’d picked the room because it was the most convenient to the kitchen and sitting room, and also because it was easiest to heat and clean. Still, it was going to be difficult to make it feel cozy and welcoming, but she was determined to try.

She needed to stop obsessing over stupid Henry Trent and focus on her job, and on doing it well. Straightening her shoulders, she gave Jace a determined smile.

“Shall we make a start?”

Jace nodded and together they started lugging furniture out of the way to make room for the bed. Henry had not given her any instructions about preparing the room, and so Alice had decided to have a free rein. She’d told Jace she wanted to bring as much of Lady Stokeley’s bedroom furniture downstairs as possible, so she could at least feel like she was in her bedroom, and have her possessions about her.

She’d also spent the rest of yesterday evening—when she hadn’t been staring into space, thinking about Henry—finishing up the bed hangings. When she’d been in London she’d picked a pretty, fresh floral pattern in lilac because she remembered Lady Stokeley remarking on the colour. It had been time-consuming to do by hand, but she hoped Lady Stokeley was pleased with the effort.

Dust flew up in their faces as they pushed several antique sofas to the side of the room. Alice dragged several carpets outside and beat them so the dust came up in great clouds. She got out her beeswax and lavender cleaning spray and blitzed every surface she could find, wiping and scrubbing all the dust and grime away.

“It’s hard to believe I cleaned this room a week ago,” she told Jace as she wiped her forehead and surveyed the room a few hours later.

“That’s what happens with old houses, I guess,” Jace answered. “An army of cleaners couldn’t get rid of all the dust and dirt and cobwebs in here. It just comes creeping back.

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