Page 32 of Not his Marchioness
He smirked. “I, too, am rather fatigued. I shall see you in the morning. If you need, I will shadow you as you take in the rest of the estate.”
“There is no need.”
Though she was oddly relieved he, too, was going to sleep.
Why should it bother her if he went out once more? Why should she care if he called on a lightskirt? It should not.
And yet, somewhere inside her, there was a spark of curiosity when it came to him.
Though from where it had come, she did not know. And as she walked to her chamber, she had to admit that it caused her far more concern than this situation warranted.
CHAPTER 13
Charlotte woke up the following morning disoriented by the huge bed. She found herself in a chamber much grander than the one she had at Lowey House.
The canopy was dark blue and dotted with silver stars, not pale pink with roses like her old one. But she had to admit the mattress was considerably more comfortable.
She swung her legs out of bed and stepped onto the cold floor. The fireplace was already roaring. How peculiar that she hadn’t heard the maids coming in. Back home, there was always clattering and banging. If not from the maid, then from her father or her sisters or her aunt.
She stepped to the window and saw that snow had fallen overnight. It was beautiful and tranquil so early in the morning; there were a few people out and about. Across the street, she spotted a newspaper stand, and a young boy was just now preparing his stack.
Undoubtedly, something would be written about her wedding. Perhaps not in great detail, not yet. But the following day, certainly. Perhaps for the entire week. She was well aware that every single step she took would be watched and judged by Society.
With a sigh, she walked to the door and pulled the heavy cord that would alert the maid to come up.
What was the girl’s name? Charlotte had already forgotten. It was one of those things she would have to grow accustomed to—having a lady’s maid and not sharing the housemaid with her sister.
As she waited, she walked into the next room—the dressing room. It was large but empty. Her trunk still stood in the main chamber, the maids having only unpacked a portion of her things.
She rolled her shoulders and walked back into the main room. The space was large but sparsely furnished. There was a bed, a dresser, and several sideboards, as well as two armchairs. That was all.
This was something she had noticed yesterday as she toured a part of the house, with Rhys walking beside her like a sullen child being dragged away from his pastimes.
Many rooms were empty. Some were still covered with white sheets. It was curious that such a grand house that had once housed a large family was now so empty.
A knock sounded at the door, and then a maid entered. She was balancing a porcelain basin on her left hip and carrying a large pitcher, along with a washcloth and soap that bounced against her chest.
“Good morning, My Lady,” she greeted with a curtsy.
Charlotte hurried to help her with the door.
The maid appeared to be about her age, if not younger, with hair the color of straw, a ruddy face covered with freckles, and green eyes. She placed her supplies on one of the sideboards.
“Good morning,” Charlotte said, mortified that she couldn’t remember her name.
“Suzette,” the maid supplied, noticing her confusion. “Don’t worry about it, My Lady. There are so many new people here, I can barely remember their names myself.”
“You make me feel less foolish,” Charlotte said with a chuckle. “I felt quite the fool for not remembering your name, but you’re right. There are so many new faces here. And new not only to me.”
“Indeed. Only Mrs. Henderson knows her way around the place.”
“Mrs. Henderson,” Charlotte echoed. “The housekeeper? She knows her way around here? I did not realize.”
“She used to work for His Lordship’s parents many years ago. His Lordship let her go two years ago when he became a marquess. He said he didn’t need her anymore.”
“I see,” Charlotte murmured. “So this house was fully staffed not too long ago.”
“Yes, My Lady,” Suzette confirmed. “Are you ready for your morning toilette?”
