Page 57 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
She dropped her hands, her lips pursed. “It’s important that I find my own way with them. I can’t have you acting as an intermediary for the rest of our lives.”
And that was exactly why his staff would respect her. She was a practical woman but kind.
He rested his hand on her thigh. “Trust me. It will be all right.”
She sighed. “I hope so.”
When they turned into the entrance to Longley House, the staff were lined up along the front of the building. Mrs. Smythe, the housekeeper, stood at the front alongside Boden, the only member of the household who might be consideredslightly snobbish. At the farthest end were the stable boys, bouncing with restless energy.
Mrs. Smythe greeted them as they left the carriage, warmly welcoming Amelia to Longley House. For her part, Amelia’s nerves were hardly noticeable. She was quiet and polite as Mrs. Smythe—a short, stout woman with gray hair and friendly eyes—introduced her to each member of the household staff.
That done, Mrs. Smythe dismissed the staff and offered Amelia a tour of the house.
“I’d like that,” Amelia replied, smiling.
Mrs. Smythe’s cheeks were ruddy, and she seemed pleased. “Excellent.”
She led them inside and escorted them through the ground floor, showing Amelia the drawing rooms, the morning room, the earl’s office, the dining hall, and the ballroom. They moved upstairs and made their way through the guest wing first, finally ending at the earl’s and countess’s chambers.
“I hope Lady Drake didn’t have to move on my account,” Amelia said as they paused outside her new bedchamber.
“Oh no, my lady,” Mrs. Smythe rushed to reassure her. “Her ladyship has used the room up the end of the corridor on the right for years now.”
Amelia’s shoulders relaxed. “Good. I wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable in her own home.”
“It’s your home, too, now,” Andrew reminded her.
Her smile turned wry. “I suppose it is.”
Andrew gestured at the door. “Go ahead, Mrs. Smythe.”
The housekeeper pushed the door open and held it for them to enter. Andrew gazed around the room, hoping it would meet Amelia’s expectations.
The bed was large, with a rich red covering. The wardrobe, which was against the wall opposite the foot of the bed, was spacious and well taken care of despite its age.Her dresses had already been unpacked into it, as had the rest of her belongings, and those that remained were stacked in bags and boxes against the nearest wall.
There was a small dressing table with a mirror to the right of the wardrobe, and on the far side of the room, beside windows hung with ruby-hued drapes, stood an ornately carved writing desk. He’d had it moved there from the library and furnished with a fresh supply of paper, ink, and a seal to indicate her position as the Countess of Longley.
Amelia wandered toward the desk, her gaze locked on it. “This is for me?”
“Yes. I hope it meets your needs.”
She ran her finger along the wood. “It is… exquisite. Thank you, my lord.”
He checked to ensure that Mrs. Smythe had left them and they were now alone. “None of that. You may call me Andrew.”
She glanced back at him, a smile flitting across her lips. “Andrew is a nice name. Strong. Kind. It suits you.”
His heart gave an extra thump. “May I call you Amelia?”
She nodded. “If you wish.”
“I do.” He moved toward her and reached for her hand. “I know this arrangement of ours is for convenience, but I hope we can be friends. I would infinitely prefer that to being strangers who live together.”
She searched his eyes. “As would I.”
His throat tightened, and he coughed to clear it. “Then friends it will be.” He hesitated. “I’m going to leave you here to get settled, but before I go, is there anything you need or would like to know?”
She nibbled on her lower lip, all the confidence draining out of her. “Uh… will I be fulfilling my wifely duty tonight?”
