Page 26 of Everything But the Earl
“Grace, this is Mrs. Jones, our cook. She bakes the best biscuits in Wales.”
“My lady, it is wonderful to meet you,” said Mrs. Jones. “I have soup cooking downstairs if you’d like that, too.”
“This will be fine,” said Grace. “Save the soup for dinner.”
“Yes, my lady.” Mrs. Jones bowed and left them.
Owen poured tea. He gestured at the milk, honey, and lemon that also sat on the cart.
“A little milk,” said Grace.
So they had tea together, and Owen enjoyed watching Grace taste one of Mrs. Jones’s biscuits, which really were light and crisp and very good.
After tea, Owen said, “Our luggage has probably been moved upstairs by now. Would you like to see our rooms?”
“I would.”
A grand staircase off the vestibule led them upstairs. There were five bedrooms on this floor, which felt like more than anyone should need, but Owen supposed if he had more family, they’d take up more space. When he’d written ahead to say he was coming, he’d asked that the master bedroom, which was where he’d been sleeping the last few times he’d stayed here, and the adjacent lady’s rooms be cleaned and decorated.
The staff had done a good job. Owen took Grace to his room first. A four-poster bed dominated the room, and it was covered in dark blue bedding. After his father died, he’d swapped out the furniture, finding that sleeping near so many of the late earl’s things was too maudlin, so some of the furniture in his room here had come from London. He’d also changed the art on the walls to be more his taste: a watercolor of the northern coast of Wales, a painting of what was left of Caernarfon Castle, and a painting he’d bought in London of theThames near Westminster at dawn.
“This is lovely,” said Grace.
“Come with me,” Owen said. He led her into another chamber. “I did not know the last time I was here that I would be bringing home a bride, but I can have some of these old clothes moved if you need more space for yours. This is my dressing room, and if you come through here…” Owen led her through a doorway, “this is the bathing room.”
Grace looked around. Owen was quite proud of the room. He’d had tiles installed so that when he got in and out of the tub, water splashing about wouldn’t ruin the floor. “And watch this!” He turned a knob on the tub and water flowed out.
“Impressive,” said Grace. “I didn’t realize water ran like that outside of London.”
“One of my modernizations. I had iron pipes installed in this part of the house. It was very expensive, but at least the staff don’t have to lug buckets of water upstairs just so I can bathe myself. Now come through here.”
He led her into a mostly empty dressing room. “This is your dressing room. I’m afraid we share the bathing chamber, but you can use this space here however you like.”
“It’s lovely,” said Grace, sounding genuine.
“And here is your bedchamber.”
A door in the dressing room opened into a bedroom. Owen wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but this room had also been cleared of his parents’ things. This had once been his mother’s room, but there was no longer any trace of her, and Owen was grateful. The bed was covered in cream-colored bedding. A pale armoire stood across from the bed. Someone had hung a watercolor of flowers and a framed embroidery Owen recognized as something his sister had done when she was a girl, of a red dragon.
“You may, of course, redecorate however you see fit,” Owen said.
“You keep saying that.”
“I don’t have much of an eye for decoration, and I imagine in the coming years, you will spend more time here than I will. I want you to feel at home.” Owen frowned at the watercolor. “This is quite dull, for example, but we have other art available to hang here if you’d like to see it.”
“Perhaps not today. I am quite tired.”
“Yes. Of course.” Owen looked around. “I see the trunks have been brought up but not unpacked.”
“I should like to oversee the unpacking myself,” Grace said. “This, for example, is my potter’s wheel.” She put her hand on a large crate. “And I am still not quite sure where it should go. We should keep it boxed up until we decide.”
“Of course. Whatever you think is best.”
“You are allowed to disagree with me, you know.”
Owen smiled. “Like I said, I am merely trying to make you feel at home here.”
She walked over and put her hands on his shoulders. He enjoyed that she’d gotten bolder after the nights they’d spent together. He wanted her to be as aggressive as she wanted, to initiate intimacy between them on her terms. Frankly, he was happy to accommodate her in all things.
