My Enemy, My Heart (The Ashford Chronicles) by Laurie Alice Eakes

Author:Laurie Alice Eakes [Eakes, Laurie Alice]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781503937635
Publisher: Waterfall Press
Published: 2016-11-14T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Deirdre stared at Kieran, the word “mistake” reverberating through her head like a ship’s bell clanging through a fog. Marrying her was a mistake to him. Considering the condition she was probably in, marrying him was a mistake for her, too.

“C-can your father have the marriage set aside?” She had begun to shiver and wanted to huddle next to one of the fires wafting smoke from the chimneys. Yet she did not wish to go back to the home where she was unwelcome. “Will he have the marriage set aside?”

“Not without a great deal of trouble and even more scandal. A vicar married us, so it has to go through the ecclesiastical courts and Parliament. And if you are carrying the heir, nothing would even be considered until after we know if the child is a boy or girl.” He spoke as though he had memorized the explanation.

Deirdre began to walk toward the house. “Then no sense standing outside here freezing. I expect your family will accept me as your wife whether they like it or not, just as you must.”

“Deirdre, no.” He caught up with her and tucked his hand through the crook of her elbow. “Don’t think we don’t want you here.”

“I will do without facing them all at dinner.”

“Coward.” The word held enough affection some of Deirdre’s chill dissipated.

She took a deep breath as they reached the front steps. “All right, if you think it’s all right, I’ll stay for dinner.”

“Of course it’s all right. We won’t be eating en famille. We usually do not.”

“You have guests?”

Deirdre nearly accepted defeat at that idea and reconsidered the tray.

“Not guests. My father’s secretary Burnham and his steward Leith, and Miss Pruitt, who was the girls’ governess. She is mostly a companion or chaperone now.” He stroked his fingers down the inside of Deirdre’s forearm before hurrying ahead of her to open the door.

Warmth and light greeted them along with the delicious aroma of roasting beef. Deirdre’s stomach growled. “How long until dinner?”

“Two hours. Would you like me to show you around the house?”

“Yes, please. I’ll get lost if you don’t, but can you sneak me a half-dozen more sandwiches?”

“I will be happy to do so, m’lady.” The one-armed footman hastened forward and bowed.

Deirdre wanted to sink through the floor. She had forgotten that servants lurked everywhere.

“Have them sent to the music room, Rochester.” Kieran offered Deirdre his arm. “We will start with the ground floor. Here we have all the public rooms—dining room, drawing rooms, Father’s study, and the estate office for the steward and secretary.” His voice was low, gentle, friendly, but not warm.

Most of the rooms weren’t warm either. Dark and closed, some with furniture shrouded in cloth covers, the chambers ranged from one or two anterooms not much bigger than her father’s cabin to rooms the length of a naval frigate.

“The ballroom.” Kieran introduced this last one.

The music room was next door. Someone had lighted a fire and several candles. Before the hearth stood a low table with a tray bearing far more than a few sandwiches.

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