“Finishing school in and of itself was not the only reason I agreed to the marriage,” he said cautiously.
“No, but it implies accomplishments, which is a draw, given you intend for me to accompany your sister to London.”
He inhaled away the tightness in his chest. For all she was not a typical young lady, she had enough understanding of the world that he trusted she could fulfill that task. “My primary reasoning is that I hope you will be able to comport yourself in Society. The precise nature of your abilities in music and watercolor hold no interest for me.”
“Ah,” Chris said laughingly, “so I must have theappearanceof accomplishment without the necessity of being so.”
His shoulders sagged in relief that she had understood him. “Precisely.”
Before they could talk any more about accomplishments—or her lack thereof—a building came into view. He was conscious of a slight feeling of disappointment. “We’ve arrived at the farm,” he said. “Mr. and Mrs. Williams live here, as did Mr. Williams’s father before him. The family has been here almost as long asmine, and they continue to rent more land and build on their forebears’ success.”
“Do you know them well?”
“As well as I know any of my tenants,” he answered. Which was to say, not well; after the fire, he had gone out of his way to avoid befriending anyone. The less human contact, the better. He withdrew his mask and placed it over his head, the cool wood sliding against his skin as he tied the straps holding it in place.
Christana watched him with her mouth turned down, but she said nothing, and as he came to help her down from the horse, she slid down without his assistance. His hands tingled with the memory of catching her waist.
Foolishness. Just because he had not been with a woman since the fire. He had made his peace with it, but he had not considered that living in close confines with a woman—any woman—for a prolonged period of time might try his restraint.
Chris looked up at him, pupils flaring, and he stepped back, giving them both space. “It will be a short visit,” he said, turning his attention to the task at hand. “I rarely stay long.”
“So they have no chance to get to know you?” she asked, the tinge of condemnation in her voice.
“Precisely,” he said.
Chapter Twelve
Over the nexttwo weeks, the days fell into a new sort of rhythm. Christiana acclimated to it faster than she could have supposed. First, she had breakfast with Hugh and occasionally Amelia—when the latter roused herself early enough. Then, she spent time learning the household a little. Exploring the rooms, poring over the accounts, and interviewing all the servants. Just to introduce herself and get a feeling for the staff.
Amelia sometimes joined her as she worked, lounging on sofas as she read, comfortable being idle.
“After all,” she explained one morning when Christiana had questioned it, “what else have I to do? This is notmyhouse. I study at Bath; you surely cannot expect me to learn French and Italian here, too. I practice my pianoforte and harp in the afternoons, and I take frequent exercise for my health.” She yawned, raising a languid hand to her mouth. “Hugh keeps Miss Byrd around for my entertainment, I suppose, or perhaps so she can watch over me, but you have met her, so you know what she’s like.”
Christiana did know. Just the other morning, she had been forced to intervene when Miss Byrd had attempted to dissuadeAmelia from reading, passionate in the belief that ladies ought not to read novels.
Still, for the sake of keeping the peace, she said, “Your brother tells me she has been part of the household since you were both children.”
“Oh, yes, and that’s why he can’t bring himself to dismiss her. And she is a very kind soul.” The admission seemed to bring Amelia no particular joy. “The issue is that one can be kind and tiring, and she is exceedingly tiring.” She surveyed Christiana through her eyelashes. “Hugh tells me I should speak well of Miss Byrd because she has given so much to the family.”
“Thatisadmirable,” Christiana said carefully. She understood and supported the need for Amelia to treat Miss Byrd with deference and respect, but she also understood that for someone with Amelia’s quick wit and lively imagination, Miss Byrd’s company would rankle.
“No, it isn’t, and you don’t think so, either.” Amelia looked mischievous now as she sat up, book forgotten. “My brother brought you in so you would be a good influence, but good influences are deathly boring, and so far, I do not find you so. Does that mean he has failed or succeeded?”
Christiana tried not to laugh. They were in the library, which had rapidly become her favorite room in the house. Hugh kept a smaller bookroom beside his study, filled with books upon books about maintaining estates and farms, but the wider library contained a far wider variety of tomes.
She loved any place that harbored knowledge.
“I think we are both fortunate,” she said. “When he told me I was to act as caretaker of his sister, I thought you would be utterly unmanageable.”
“Iam. Hugh tells me repeatedly.”
From where Christiana was sitting, the only true vice Amelia was guilty of was boredom, and who could blame her, trapped on this estate with no friends or peers within reach.
“Well, then,” Christiana said, closing her eyes in a shaft of sunshine. “Perhaps that means I am, too.”
“My poor brother.” Amelia’s voice quietened a little. “Miss Byrd has been warning him that I will cause a scandal in London, and I expect that’s why he felt he needed a wife to keep me in check.” She made a disgruntled noise. “As though he could not have just spoken to me about it.”
Privately, Christiana thought that conversation would not have gone down well, but she didn’t voice her opinion. Instead, she asked, “What does Miss Byrd think you’ll do in London?”