Page 13 of A Gentleman's Wife

“It is a pleasure, madame,” he said, a lovely French lilt in his words. “Any requests you may have, I will be happy to accommodate.”

Mrs. Bamber turned to her. “Part of your responsibilities as lady of the house will be to help Monsieur and myself plan the weekly menu. And we can add any favorites or remove any items you don’t want.”

“Oh, I’m sure the routine menus you’re accustomed to using will be just fine.” The words flew out of her mouth before she’d had a moment to even think.

Monsieur Dupont shook his head. “Ah, but madame, I am paid to accommodate you, not the reverse.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing?” Mrs. Bamber pressed.

Mrs. Bamber had just asked her what she enjoyed, and it made Marianne think. Had she any say in her parents’ home, what adjustments would she have made?

Taking a breath, Marianne said, “Well… white soup does tend to give me indigestion.”

Mrs. Bamber gave Monsieur Dupont a look, and he nodded. “Et voila, it is stricken.”

“But I don’t want to inconvenience Mr. Ramsbury if he enjoys it.”

Monsieur Dupont waved his hand. “Bah, he will not even notice. You two will be a complementary pair.”

Marianne breathed. That much was a relief, at least.

“And what is a favorite you’ve not had in some time?” Mrs. Bamber asked.

Biting her lip, Marianne said, “I suppose I am partial to a custard tart.”

Monsieur Dupont grinned. “Madame, it is my specialty. You shall have one for dessert this very evening.”

A sudden burn filled Marianne’s eyes, and she had to press her lips together to keep the tears from tumbling out. “Merci beaucoup, monsieur.”

He gave a simple bow as Mrs. Bamber let out a chipper, “Back to work!” and then discreetly handed Marianne a handkerchief before leading her back into the house. It took a moment for Marianne to swallow the emotion in her throat. When she was finally able to speak, she pressed the handkerchief back into Mrs. Bamber’s hand but held her still for a moment in the empty corridor.

“Thank you, Mrs. Bamber.” Her voice still held a wobble, but Marianne straightened her shoulders. “I appreciate your vote of confidence and encouragement, and I will do my best to serve and assist you and this household to the very best of my ability.”

Mrs. Bamber smiled, squeezing her hand in return. “As Monsieur said, it is our job to serve you, isn’t it? But you needn’t worry. The whole house has been without a mistress for so long, we’ll all be learning together, I suppose.”

That did make Marianne feel better. They fell into steps together again as Mrs. Bamber led her toward the grand staircase.

“And we’ve already notified Monsieur Dupont about the smaller portions for your meals, just as the master asked.”

A rush of new tears filled Marianne’s eyes. “He did?” Thomas had remembered?

Mrs. Bamber offered her the handkerchief again. “You’ve married well, madam. I’ve known him since he was a boy, and young Mr. Ramsbury is the kindest soul, so you won’t suffer any mistreatment from him.”

Marianne wiped at her eyes and took a moment to catch her breath before continuing up the staircase. If she’d had any fears about leaving her parents’ home before, they were all but gone now. She’d finally escaped out of hell and found paradise in a house full of friends.

After a long day of walking and talking, crying and learning, Marianne had Eliza’s help changing into dinner attire before descending the stairs once more. She found that the words she’d said earlier to Mrs. Bamber still rang true. She felt more peace here in this new place than she had in the house where she’d spent the first twenty-five years of her life.

But the moment she caught a glimpse of her husband at the bottom of the stairs, she was reminded of the one thing that kept her from being completely comfortable. The fact that she, indeed, had a husband, a man who slept on the other side of her bedroom wall. Thomas Ramsbury, who had delayed his own marital right to her bed, had requested simpler meals for her single hand, had been nothing but sweet and understanding in their entire ordeal of an arranged marriage. Who was this paragon of men she had married?

He looked up from the foyer, reminding her just how handsome he truly was. Trim brown hair, a slender face, and brown eyes that were warm and comforting. His lips set in a simple smile, and though it didn’t quite meet his eyes, she did not expect his instant adoration after only a few days. Truly, she didn’t ever expect it. She would be completely content with this cordial space they shared.

“Good evening,” he said, his voice portraying a happiness that didn’t match his appearance. Was he tired? “How lovely you look.”

His words caused her heart to skip a beat, and she looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “You can’t mean that.”

His eyes widened at her response, and Marianne cursed her thoughtlessness. Perhaps the day had exhausted her as well and left her with her guarded walls crumbling. “My apologies. I’m not accustomed to receiving such compliments. Thank you for saying so.”

Thomas nodded, offering her his arm. “I understand. Shall we go in?”

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