“She has been interviewing members of staff about the household expenses, requiring them to justify any small demands they might have on the house, and encouraging them to talk about Mrs. Partridge and myself behind our backs.” His voice rose, evidently incensed. “I understand, of course, that as mistress, she is now head of the household, but I do notappreciate beingaccusedof misrepresenting the household’s needs.”
Hugh suppressed a sigh. He ought to have known Christiana would have taken thoroughness to an entirely new level. “I’m sure she was not accusing anyone of anything.”
Penwick sniffed. “I would beg to differ, sir. She made itquiteclear that she thought me guilty, even if she had not one bit of proof.”
“Her Grace has inherited a large responsibility, and I have no doubt she is doing her duty as she sees it.”
“Of course. But Mrs. Partridge is exceedingly upset that after so many years of loyal service, we could have been treated in such a way.” He gave a crisp bow. “Unless you have been unhappy with our service, Your Grace?”
Hugh pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not in the slightest.”
“If you could reassure her that we are not out toswindleyou, I would be grateful, Your Grace.”
“I’ll speak with her.”
“Thankyou, sir.” Penwick bowed again, a deal sight lower this time, and retreated backward from the room.
Hugh poured himself a glass of brandy with his good hand, wishing he could, just once, offload these responsibilities to someone else.
A sip sent warmth through him, and alone in his study, he tugged at the fingers of his glove. Pink, mottled skin greeted him. That same disfigurement extended across the entire right-hand side of his body.
Sometimes, when the pain became too bad, he took laudanum and stared at the ceiling until he lost himself in his own head. But no matter how tempting that became, he now had a wife to manage.
A wife who would not live here for any notable period of time, and who was already causing disruption in his household.
A wife whom he simultaneously wanted and had no intention of taking to bed.
He poured himself another brandy and drank it as he made a note of the final stonemason’s payment. Then he drank another, until the world had dimmed to a warm glow, and the prospect of confronting his wife in her dressing room did not seem quite such an arduous one.
Slowly, he rose and replaced his glove before making his way upstairs. The house was dark around him, and he carried a single lamp that illuminated mostly only the carpet before him, and occasionally the gilded edge of a painting.
As always, he heard the distant roar of flames and forced it from his mind. That was not real; the slow tread of his steps was.
And when he finally entered his wife’s chambers, those were real, too.
She sat bathed in the glow of her own lamps, removing her earrings before the mirror, her hair loose and tumbling down her back. Her glasses were on the dressing table before her, and when she turned, he saw her for the first time without the frames obscuring her features.
Something inside him stirred at the sight. She wore nothing but a nightgown and a robe, one shoulder slipping free. He saw the jut of her collarbones as she took a deep breath, and the peaked press of a nipple against the material of her nightgown.
The force of his lust took him entirely by surprise.
“Hugh,” she said, blinking owlishly up at him. Without her glasses, he didn’t know how much she could see; he suspected not much. “What brings you here?”
Not that.
It had been too long since he had been with a woman, and he found her lack of disgust refreshing. That was all. She had shown no desire to be with him in that way—and even if she did, that would not last once she saw the rest of his ruined body.
“Penwick came to me today,” he said, drawing up a chair and sitting. “Do you have anything to say about that?”
“Penwick?” She blinked, frowning a little. “What would you have me say?”
“He expressed dismay that you are accusing the servants of misrepresenting household expenses. I assured him you meant nothing by it, but—”
“But I did mean something by it,” she said, reaching for her glasses and settling them on her nose. She had a pretty nose, he noticed now. Perhaps a little large for the thinness of her face, but otherwise an elegant shape. “The number of candles in the household do not account for the number ordered, even taking into account high usage over the past few weeks. The last quarterly delivery of coal was enough to sustain us through winter, yet it’s summer, and the stores are nearly depleted. Penwick ordered enough wine for several dinner parties, and yet he tells me the stocks are low and we must order more. I cannot speak for your consumption, but—”
“I drink wine but rarely,” Hugh said, focusing on her anew. “So you think my servants are taking advantage of me?”
“That, or their handling of numbers is atrocious. Regardless, they have been defaulting on their duty and costing you a great deal of money over the years.” She adjusted her glasses. “Things have been a little… unsettled since the fire, especially with the building work that has taken place. You were otherwise engaged, and Amelia is too young to act as mistress. But that is all about to change. And I’m certain that the money I save will be able to fill the moat in no time.”