Elizabeth looked up at the three-story, gray brick mansion belonging to her husband. The house held an air of neglect, standing out among the well-maintained homes of Kelso’s neighbors, but she supposed that was to be expected, considering Kelso hadn’t lived here until recently.
“You’re expected, aren’t you, my lady?” McMannish said as he helped her lady’s maid out of the coach, giving Kelso’s house a skeptical look.
The front door remained firmly shut. No one had opened the door at their approach in welcome.
“We are. My brother sent Kelso a note.” Elizabeth walked up the front steps, wondering if she should have written instead. Based on their parting, she wasn’t sure if her husband would be pleased to see her.
McMannish rapped sharply at the door.
Heavy footsteps sounded before the door opened to reveal a tall, mahogany-skinned man with startling blue eyes. Long dark hair was pulled away from his face and tied into a neat queue which lay over one shoulder. He was beautiful and exotic, and so incredibly unlike a traditional butler, Elizabeth could only stare at him.
Bertie let out a small gasp behind her.
The piercing blue stare moved from her to linger on Bertie. “May I help you?” The man addressed McMannish, before glancing at the coach, showing no surprise at the Cambourne coat of arms.
“I am Lady Kelso,” Elizabeth stated firmly in her most haughty tone, wondering what Kelso had told the man about her.
“Lady Kelso.” A tiny smirk crossed his lips as if he found her appearance to be incredibly amusing, though his manner was unfailingly polite. There was no trace of the foreign accent Elizabeth expected, given his rather exotic appearance. “Lord Kelso is not here.”
“McMannish.” The Scot stepped forward, eyeing Dolly with suspicion. “I’m to deliver Lady Kelso to her husband. Where might he be?”
Elizabeth blinked. She hadn’t expected that Kelso wouldn’t be here. After all, Sutton had sent him a note. “Is he at his club? You might send him word I’ve arrived. I’m expected.”
“Of course, Lady Kelso.” He opened the door wide, ushering her, Bertie and McMannish inside. “I am Dolly,” the big man informed her, “Lord Kelso’s…majordomo, or butler, if you prefer.” His eyes twinkled with curiosity as he regarded her.
“Mr. Dolly?” Elizabeth handed off her cloak to him. “An odd name for a butler.”
“Just Dolly, Lady Kelso.” His eyes had gone to a spot over Elizabeth’s shoulder where Bertie stood.
“My lady’s maid, Bertie.”
Bertie stood open-mouthed at the sight of Kelso’s butler. Elizabeth could understand. Dolly was handsome, imposing and incredibly unusual. She discreetly pinched Bertie’s arm.
“Miss Bertie,” his voice rumbled as he gave Bertie a rather brazen stare.
Elizabeth stepped before her maid, clearing her throat. The overlarge butler was looking at Bertie as if she were an iced biscuit he wished to devour. “Where exactly is Lord Kelso?”
“Not at home. My apologies, my lady, but an urgent matter at Beckford Abbey required his attention.” At her look of confusion, he said, “Lord Kelso’s family seat. A fire.” He looked at her coach, where the Cambourne footmen were unloading her trunks, then back to her in consternation, as if not exactly sure how to proceed without Kelso in residence. “My lady?”
Elizabeth ignored Dolly and circled the foyer, McMannish and Bertie at her heels. Peeking into the drawing room she could see the furniture was still covered with sheets. The house was strangely quiet. No bustle of servants.
A man came around the corner and halted at the sight of Elizabeth, Bertie and McMannish. “Lady Kelso.” Surprise lit his thin face.
“Hello, Porter.” She gave him a brilliant smile. “I’ve arrived.”
“Yes, my lady.” Porter glanced up at Dolly and then back at her. “It is a pleasure to see you.”
“I’ve come to stay. I understand Lord Kelso is not in residence at the moment. An errand, Dolly tells me, to Beckford Abbey.”
Porter gave her an odd look. “Not an errand, Lady Kelso.”
“No, decidedly not.” Dolly nodded. “He’s not on an errand.”
Elizabeth looked between the two men. She was missing something but didn’t know exactly what.
“Hello, Porter.” McMannish nodded in the direction of the driver.
Elizabeth looked at the blushing Porter, who dipped his hat at McMannish before excusing himself and scurrying away. How did McMannish know Porter?
McMannish touched her elbow. “May I have a private word, my lady?”
“I think I’d like a word with you as well. How do you know Porter?” she said as McMannish led her down the hall. She caught a glance of the tile beneath her feet. Filthy. In desperate need of a shine.
“It’s a long story, lass.” His lower lip pulled down into a scowl.
“But—”
“I don’t think you should stay here.” He glanced with disapproval at Dolly. “Lord Kelso isn’t here. Perhaps I should take you to back to Lord Cambourne.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, McMannish. This is my home, or at least it will be. I have Bertie and I’m well-acquainted with Porter. We’ll be fine.” Except for her husband’s blatant disregard, Elizabeth was fine. At the very least, she had expected Kelso to make her feel welcome. He didn’t have to ride off to Beckford Abbey on some trumped-up excuse to avoid her. “And,” she waved around to the poorly managed house, “it appears my new home is in desperate need of my attention.”
“I’ll be at Lord Dunbar’s should you need me, until tomorrow. After that…” He lightly touched her hand. “You must call upon the duke should you need anything.”
“I won’t need anything,” Elizabeth said gently, trying to keep her rising anger at Kelso in check. “If there is the slightest problem, I will send for you or His Grace. I promise.”
Not a word from Kelso in a month. Not even so much as a note to greet her on her arrival. He knew how much she dreaded being in London, yet he still had left her to navigate this house on her own. It was making her regret coming all this way to warn him about her mother, the bloody inconsiderate—
“You’ve the wee pistols I bought you?” McMannish interrupted her disparagement of Kelso. “Just in case.” His gaze flicked to Dolly who was regarding her with trepidation.
“I do.” McMannish had recently gifted her with a matched pair of small pistols. She’d been touched by his thoughtfulness. She would be able to protect herself in the future, and the thought steeled her resolve further.
“Don’t worry.” Elizabeth pushed him in the direction of the door. “Dolly and Porter are in Lord Kelso’s employ and he is the duke’s cousin.”
“What type of gentleman isn’t here to receive his own wife on her first visit to their home?” McMannish grumbled.
Indeed, Elizabeth had to agree. “I’m perfectly safe,” she said with much more confidence than she felt. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, McMannish.”
“My pleasure.” His dark eyes were filled with concern. “You’ll visit me?”
“I will,” Elizabeth vowed. “And write to you.”
Dolly shut the door behind McMannish. His amusement had fled in the face of Elizabeth’s determination to stay. He looked down at her trunks and then back at her.
“Very well, Dolly. Please show me upstairs. I’d like to unpack.”
Dolly nodded, looking distressed. “Of course, Lady Kelso.”
Elizabeth followed the butler up the stairs, Bertie trailing behind.
“I apologize, Lady Kelso, for not being prepared. I’m not certain Lord Kelso realized you would be arriving so soon. We’ve only just opened the house. I’ve only hired a cook and a maid.”
“I see.” Another burst of irritation filled her. He’d sent her to Gray Covington a month ago, claiming he needed to open the house, which he clearly hadn’t done until very recently. She shouldn’t be surprised. He’d left her on their wedding night for snoring.
<
br /> Dolly stopped before two sets of double doors. “Lord Kelso’s rooms are here.” He nodded to the doors on the left before flinging open the set opposite. “These rooms belong to the lady of the house, though they have not been used in some time.”
A gross understatement, Elizabeth thought, as she looked around her with a mild sense of horror. The furnishings in the room were ancient and had probably belonged to Spence’s paternal grandmother. Or possibly his great-grandmother. Velvet curtains, thick and dark, hung from the windows, the creases in the fabric covered in dust, and moth-eaten to boot. The bed was a four-poster, the canopy sagging from a hole in one corner. A layer of dust coated every available surface.
“You mentioned you’d hired a maid, did you not, Dolly?”
“Yes, my lady. Her name is Jane.”
“Please send Jane up with soap and water. And hire at least three more maids. Immediately. You’ve hired footmen? A groom? A kitchen maid?”
Dolly resembled a startled doe being approached by a hunter as Elizabeth peppered him with questions. She moved closer, trying not to smile when he moved back a step. “Dolly?”
“I—that is to say, there hasn’t been time.”
“I see.” Elizabeth was furious. Bloody furious. She was in London, alone, in a house in a general state of disrepair, out of concern for Kelso. He couldn’t even be bothered to have hired staff? “I will send a note to His Grace asking him to borrow a maid and a footman until more can be hired. You’ve a cook, so that is something.”
“And a maid,” he reminded her. “I’ll fetch her.”
Dolly disappeared through the doorway, in a hurry to be away from her. In that, he was much like his employer. The thump of his boots echoed on the stairs as he descended.
“The room needs to be cleaned and completely redone,” Elizabeth said, hearing Bertie come up behind her.
Bertie went to the drapes and tried to open them, but a cloud of dust rose up. “Good Lord,” the maid said under her breath. “Do you mean to stay in here?”
“I’m not sure I’ve a choice.” She could barely see the sun through the filthy glass. Besides the ugly drapes, the windows appeared to have last been cleaned when George III sat the throne.
“Perhaps we should go back to Gray Covington, my lady. Lord Kelso seems not to have prepared well.”
“Or at all. But we aren’t leaving.”
“Oh, my lady!” Bertie gasped, as she opened the doors which Elizabeth assumed led to Kelso’s rooms. “Come quickly.”
“Please tell me you’ve not uncovered a filthy wardrobe or collection of ancient chamber pots.” She came forward and halted in the doorway next to a grinning Bertie.
The door didn’t lead directly to Kelso’s rooms but instead opened into a bathing chamber complete with a massive copper tub. The tub was oversized and large. Elizabeth was certain two people could fit inside. The floor was tiled in gray marble with hues of gold and pink, as was the enormous hearth taking up the far wall. A large potted fern sat in one corner. Sunlight streamed from a skylight situated directly above the tub. The room was elegant and slightly spartan. A marble table littered with soap and a shaving set sat at one end next to a small closet which she assumed was for more personal needs.
How absolutely decadent. How luxurious it would to be to soak in this tub and look up at the stars. This room almost made up for the deplorable state of her rooms. Almost.
Elizabeth heels clicked against the tile floor as she circled the tub. The door on the other side was open a crack. Taking a peek she could see that Kelso’s bedroom lay beyond.
A massive bed on a raised dais sat in the middle of the room, complete with intricately carved wooden bedposts and headboard. The room was done in rich browns accented in gold with a set of chairs positioned before the fire, a writing desk and a large armoire covering one wall. It was a beautiful, masculine room, though Elizabeth thought the bed looked like something that belonged in a medieval fairy tale. Kelso’s room, in comparison to her quarters, smelled refreshingly of soap, beeswax and clean linen.
Elizabeth sat on the bed, her fingers running over a silk coverlet the exact color of toast. She caught Kelso’s scent in the room, that interesting combination of tobacco and spice. A book sat on the nightstand and she picked it up, took note of the title on the spine, and set it down. She’d no idea Kelso found military tactics of the Roman Empire of any interest. Something else to add to the list of things she didn’t know about her husband.
Bertie hovered in the doorway. “My lady?”
“I believe I’ll sleep in here.” Elizabeth decided there was no point in attempting to be comfortable in her own rooms. She had a modest understanding of what was required to run a household, though it wasn’t a skill she had been taught at St. Albans. Grandmother would know what was needed. She would send word to her immediately.
“Tomorrow we’ll get started, Bertie.”
31
Elizabeth woke the next morning in Kelso’s bed after a restful night. She’d fallen asleep surrounded by his scent, comforted for the first time since they’d parted.
Her gaze was drawn to a tree branch rapping lightly against the bedroom window. She’d been so occupied with ordering Dolly and their sole maid about after arriving, Elizabeth hadn’t taken a good look at the gardens. But if the state of the house was any indication, she had an idea what awaited her.
She forced herself out of bed. There was much for her to accomplish today. Walking over to the window, she looked down into the gardens.
“Bollocks.” Below her sat Kelso’s garden, a mass of twisted vines, overgrown shrubs, weeds and unkept beds. She sighed and pressed her forehead to the window.
She looked back at the bed. Surrounded by his scent, his books, his clothing, Elizabeth could pretend he would return at any moment. She wondered how he would take the news that she was in residence. Would he be glad? Elizabeth had no reason to think he would be. Kelso had not written her though Dolly had sent word to Kelso she had arrived.
After sipping a tepid cup of tea and declining a piece of burnt toast, Elizabeth requested a tour of the grounds. She mentally added to her growing list the need for a decent cook.
The grounds were far worse than the view from her window led her to believe. After her inspection of the gardens, she went straight to Kelso’s study and searched until she found a discarded journal. Her fingers flew over the pages as she began to make lists while she waited for Grandmother’s instructions. The changes to the gardens alone took up five pages and she hadn’t even started on the design for her flower beds nor the herb and vegetable gardens needed for the kitchen.
The following day, just as Elizabeth finished luncheon, a miserable meal of poorly seasoned soup, a stream of carriages and carts appeared outside the front door. Grandmother had sent reinforcements, along with a set of instructions. Wall coverings, paint and fabric swatches as well as design recommendations were brought into the drawing room.
Dolly appeared, eyes agog at the activity. He approached her, ignoring the stares of the workmen, and bowed. “Lady Kelso, I have received word from Lord Kelso.” He handed her a note with her name across the front in Kelso’s broad, masculine scrawl.
Elizabeth,
My plan had been to fetch you after my business at Beckford Abbey was concluded, however, since you are already in residence, I will proceed directly to London. Dolly tells me your rooms will require some updating. Please do as you see fit.
S
Elizabeth read through the note twice. Additional readings didn’t assist her further in discerning Kelso’s mood; all the reading accomplished was solidifying her own annoyance toward her husband. He’d planned on ‘fetching’ her, as if she were only a valise he’d misplaced. Obviously, he’d come to the same conclusion as she had: it was time to ‘dangle’ her on his arm. After all, he had his own reasons for their marriage.
Once a few public appearances had been made, she would be free to do as she wished. That had been their ag
reement, or at least what Kelso had implied. Unfortunately, Elizabeth was no longer certain it was what she wished.
“I am at your disposal, Lady Kelso.” Dolly bowed slightly, blue eyes twinkling at a joke he hadn’t shared with her. She got the impression Dolly found her takeover of Kelso’s home to be amusing.
“Lord Kelso orders I’m to do as I see fit, Dolly.” She wasn’t sure how much of her husband’s disregard she would tolerate, especially since her feelings toward him were quite different. “I think we’ll go room by room. Let’s start upstairs and work our way down. Please send the footmen lent to us by His Grace upstairs with me, along with the maids. I’ve not seen Jane this morning; she neglected to set the fire in Lord Kelso’s room for the second day in a row.” Elizabeth shot Dolly a look.
“Lord Kelso’s room? But—”
“I have taken Kelso’s bed in his absence due to the…disarray in my rooms. Remind Jane, please. And fire the cook.”
“My lady?” The butler looked stricken.
“The cook, Dolly. I’ve had two days of burnt toast and weak tea. Even I can make toast. Unless you plan to add preparing meals to your current duties, find another cook today. That is your priority.” Grandmother had been quite firm on that point. A good cook was imperative, or she’d lose the other servants due to poor food. “I will need a gardener to assist in cleaning out the swamp of weeds behind the house. Have you begun interviewing staff?” She paused, enjoying the look on Dolly’s face. “And please inform Porter we need a groom and stable boy.”
Elizabeth opened the journal where Grandmother’s note was tucked. Her instructions were detailed and specific. Kelso could stay in blasted Beckford Abbey as long as he wished. In the meantime, Elizabeth meant to make this house her home.
She walked into Kelso’s study and picked up a piece of paper. “I’ve a note for my husband. Is the messenger still here?” At Dolly’s nod she waved him forward while she rapidly penned a note and handed it to the butler. “Come back directly. We’ve much to do.”
Over the next few days, crates and broken furniture began to litter the foyer as Elizabeth systematically went through each room. She’d instructed all the furniture to be removed from her suite and given to charity. Each of the guest rooms were examined, furniture discarded, and color schemes decided on. Bertie stayed at her side, as she decided what would be recovered, refurnished or discarded. Both women were covered head to toe in dust and dirt. Elizabeth had placed an apron over her day dress and her hair hung over her shoulder in a thick braid.
Still Wicked Page 19