A Simple Lady by Carolynn Carey

tried to force her mind into happier channels. At the moment, the only thing she could find to be happy about was the marquess’s decision to ride his stallion rather than sharing the carriage with her and Mattie. She did not think she could have endured trying to make conversation with the stranger who was now her husband.
    * * *
    The Marquess of Kenrick had felt a little foolish mounting Solomon while dressed in his formal attire, but that had been a small price to pay for getting away from that churchyard as quickly as possible. He was still amazed that so many people had attended the wedding. Crass curiosity—that was the only explanation for their presence, and he had not wished to nurture their nosy natures by allowing them to quiz him or his new bride.
    He had sensed the crowd’s disapproval when he hurried Elizabeth into his carriage. Not that he really cared what those meddlesome busybodies thought, but he wondered if their soft buzz of censure had been directed toward his decision not to join Elizabeth in the coach. He could hardly explain that her musty-smelling gown would have set him to sneezing for mile after mile. Far better to ride outside in the fresh air, he was convinced, although truth to tell, it was not a pleasant day for riding.
    The balmy morning had turned into a hot and muggy day. The sweltering heat had dried the road to a powdery dust that boiled up in clouds, coating Kenrick’s clothes and irritating his eyes. Within ten minutes, he felt as though his throat and mouth were lined with grit.
    The temptation to stop at one of the simple country inns along the way for a cooling drink was almost overpowering, but Kenrick forced himself to pass them by. He didn’t want to subject his poor wife to any more new experiences today. No doubt the crowd at the church and the unfamiliar wedding service had already placed a severe strain on her fragile composure. He could not bring himself to heap more anxieties on top of those she had already endured.
    By the time the unprepossessing lane leading to Cramdon Cottage came into view, Kenrick felt as though he had been traveling for three hundred miles rather than thirty. Never would he have guessed, even three days ago, that today he would have been looking forward with such anticipation to seeing this least of his inheritances again.
    After a maternal aunt had willed Cramdon Cottage to him several years ago, Kenrick had visited the unwanted addition to his estates once to ensure that the place was being looked after properly. The house had seemed both in good repair and in good hands. Mr. and Mrs. Freeman, the caretaker and the housekeeper, had shown him around and elicited his permission for minor repairs. He had given that permission, along with the name of his solicitor in London, advising the Freemans to contact Mr. Blanton should they have any need for funds beyond the customary amount allotted for upkeep and to pay their salaries.
    In the years since that visit, Kenrick had almost forgotten this particular inheritance. Mr. Blanton had not. When the marriage settlements were being drawn up, he had suggested Cramdon Cottage as a suitable residence for the marquess’s wife. At first Kenrick had protested the idea, fearing the place was too secluded, but the Earl of Ravingate had insisted that it would be perfect for his daughter. Assuming the girl’s father knew what was best for her, Kenrick had not objected again.
    Now he was beginning to wish he had not acquiesced so quickly. He had forgotten just had isolated Cramdon Cottage really was. Set four miles off the main road and surrounded by deep woods, the tiny house was at least ten miles from the nearest neighbor. Although his reclusive aunt had loved the place, Kenrick feared such a setting would not prove healthful for Elizabeth, no matter what her mental condition might be. He immediately decided that, although he had no choice but to leave his wife here for the moment, he would begin looking about