Page 45 of The Mistletoe Countess
His smile budded a little, and his fingers at her shoulder spun into her hair enough to knock off the residual chill. Perhaps he could distract her. Just out the window, sunset hues bowed to a darker shade of evening.
Frederick pointed toward a turn in the road. “We’re coming in quite late, so I’m not certain Mother will be awake, but prepare yourself.” He leaned in close as she searched ahead for the great unveiling, his voice tinged with his own pleasure. “Havensbrooke is just beyond this screen of trees.”
Havensbrooke! Her new home. Grace’s breath stalled, waiting, and in the fading light she caught her first glimpse of limestone, spires, and…turrets? She leaned closer as the view opened to a long lane lined with a variety of mature trees on either side, dusk shadowing the periphery.
Looming towers and jutting rooftops created a conglomeration of angles, chimneys, and pinnacles into the evening sky. Gothic. Grace’s breath held with an immediate shock of mystery. Was it gray or tan…or a mixture of the two? She tried to scan every detail of the ornamental entry as the car approached. It was easily twice the size of Whitlock and much more Jane Eyre–esque. “It has turrets!”
His chuckle tingled down her neck. So close. She closed her eyes to embrace the lovely warmth, remembering how she’d awakened in his arms…in his bed that morning. Sleeping with her sister felt nothing like waking to the strength of a man wrapped around her in such a safe hold. And smelling of amber. Even with her imagination, she’d never dreamed up something so delightful.
She turned slightly, her face close to his in the dark car. “It has turrets,” she whispered.
“Quite romantic, don’t you think?” His gaze dropped to her mouth, and her lips answered his unspoken request by bridging the gap between them.
“I think you should kiss my neck again tonight.” She whispered to avoid drawing attention from the driver. “It would be an excellent distraction from my thinking of someone plotting to kill you.”
His expression took on a new look, something almost dangerous, and he lowered his lips to graze her ear, sending warmth spilling from his touch southward. “That is an excellent idea.”
Her entire body hummed with such anticipation that her brain went foggy just as the car came to a stop. The door opened, and Frederick stepped out, then turned to offer his hand. She stared at him, piecing together her next actions as if picking them up off a heap on the floor. Take his hand. Put one foot in front of the other. Smile. Walk.
“Lady Astley?”
She blinked and took Frederick’s hand, offering a mock glare. “How can I possibly keep my thoughts under control when you tease me with your”—she curbed her volume—“roguish ways?”
He rewarded her with one of the most unscrupulous grins she’d ever seen. Oh, she did like the idea of a rogue and a hero all wrapped into one.
Grace forced her thoughts out of the glorious haze his voice and lips conjured in her and met the greeting of a dark-haired man of medium height and build, expression as pressed as his livery.
“Good to see you, Brandon.” Frederick nodded to the man.
Ah yes, Brandon, the butler.
In the fading daylight, two rows of servants waited at the entrance of the house. Four women and five men, all somber faced and focused forward. The kitchen staff stayed below stairs, of course, but Grace wanted to meet them too.
A stone-faced woman with pale blond-and-gray hair stood next to him, her round-rimmed glasses clinging to the edge of her small nose as if attempting to dive off the end. She looked even less welcoming than Brandon.
Of course Grace probably didn’t make the best first impression. Even though she’d changed into a new dress, she hadn’t had the opportunity to reset her hair, so her shocking spray of unruly curls was likely dangling in all directions around her face, which was still much colder than normal.
Grace’s body sagged ever so slightly—partially beneath the weariness of a long journey and partially from the sudden impossibility of the task ahead. All the rosy ideas she’d conjured on the journey shook with uncertainty. This massive, foreboding house? Servants with allegiances to a dowager, and an entire staff expecting Lillias in all her refinement?
What did it matter if she could swim and solve murder mysteries if she couldn’t be a lady?
She suddenly wondered what Lizzie Bennet felt like when she stepped from the carriage at Pemberley for the first time as Mrs. Darcy. Grace stiffened her chin. If all else failed, she had her faith, her fiction—she looked over at Frederick—and her extremely roguish friend. Surely that would be enough. How horrible could a dowager actually be?
“Welcome home, Lord Astley,” Brandon offered with a tip of his head, his gaze traveling the length of them. He cleared his throat and blinked. “I’m sorry for your…misfortune, sir.”
“Only a bit of trouble with the car, Brandon, but it’s being seen to in the village for now. Mr. Quincy was kind enough to bring us the rest of the way, and Mr. Fawkes is following in the carriage with our trunks, along with Lady Astley’s girl, Ellie.” Frederick drew Grace forward. “I’d like to introduce you to my wife, Lady Astley.” His introduction tapped her courage up a few notches. “I hope you will treat her with the same kindness and respect as you’ve always given me.”
All eyes focused on her. Grace hoped she smiled.
“I would like to offer our welcome from the full staff, Lady Astley.” Brandon’s posture made Grace stand up a little straighter, his countenance giving nothing away. “We wish to make your transition to Havensbrooke a pleasant one.”
Grace slid her attention to each face. Two of the young maids smiled. Another gentleman doffed his hat, but otherwise everyone remained stoic as statues—distrustful statues.
“Thank you, Brandon.”
“Mrs. Powell will see to your maid when she arrives.” Brandon turned back to Frederick. “And your mother wishes for you and Lady Astley to be brought to her directly, sir.”
Frederick gave a quiet sigh beside her and offered Grace his arm, turning to her. “We can postpone our introduction until morning, if you wish.”
