A Simple Lady by Carolynn Carey Page B

housemaids will bring warm water to your chamber within the next five minutes. If you will follow me, your ladyship? Yes, of course! I’ll have your trunks brought up on the instant.”
    “Thank you, Mrs. Freeman.” Elizabeth was smiling graciously at the housekeeper. “But first I must make my companion known to you. Mattie, dear, please come in.”
    Realizing belatedly that he was blocking the doorway, Kenrick hastily stepped aside to allow his wife’s elderly servant entrance. She bobbed a slight curtsy as she passed and then hurried up the stairs in her mistress’s wake.
    “Your lordship?”
    Kenrick turned from his frowning perusal of the now-empty stairs to find Mr. Freeman regarding him, a worried expression on his face.
    “It’s right sorry, I am,” Mr. Freeman said. “It seems Mrs. Freeman is forgetting her duties, but she’s been that excited, ever since Mr. Blanton told us we would be getting a new mistress here. The place has been topsy-turvy, what with that new cook Mr. Blanton sent from London, along with two housemaids and a footman. I hope you’ll excuse Mrs. Freeman, your lordship. She should have made sure ye was taken up to yer chamber also.”
    Kenrick forced his taut lips into the semblance of a smile. “Never mind, Freeman. I won’t be staying. However, I do need to change into my riding clothes. If you will direct me to a chamber where I can clean up a bit, I will then join my wife for the nuncheon Mrs. Freeman mentioned.”
    Twenty minutes later Kenrick descended the stairs, feeling cooler and cleaner, if not less famished. He was delighted to find Mr. Freeman waiting to guide him to the dining room where, that gentleman claimed, a veritable feast prepared by the new London cook awaited.
    If Mr. Freeman’s notions of a feast were somewhat exaggerated by Kenrick’s standards, the marquess had no complaints. The small dining table was already set for two, while a nearby sideboard was covered with a variety of dishes. The marquess found his mouth watering as he detected the aroma of newly baked bread, a leg of lamb, and fresh strawberries. He licked his lips, wishing his wife would hurry. She had said she was hungry. Surely she would not tarry.
    “Hello, my lord. I trust I have not kept you waiting too long.”
    Kenrick turned with hunger-induced pleasure to welcome his wife to the dining room. “Not at all,” he lied with a tight smile. His bride, he noted, had changed clothes. Gone was the musty, age-spotted satin. In its place was a modish sprigged muslin with tiny puffed sleeves and a low-cut bodice. In less than half an hour, his wife had transformed herself from pathetic to pretty, from seedy to stylish, and Kenrick very much wanted to know why. But more than that, he wanted to eat.
    “May I help you fill a plate?” he asked his wife with forced cordiality.
    Her response was frosty. “Thank you, my lord, but I am capable of choosing my own food.”
    Kenrick struggled to suppress a flare of temper, even as he bowed and stepped back to allow his wife to precede him to the sideboard where a footman waited patiently to carve their meat or lift lids from chafing dishes containing hot vegetables and bread. Kenrick made a mental note to send Mr. Blanton a note thanking him for installing a cook in Cramdon Cottage.
    Fifteen minutes later, Kenrick looked up from his plate and into the fulminating gaze of his wife. Now that his stomach was pacified, he was almost ready to deal with the reality that had been dawning on him for the last hour. His wife, whatever else she might be, was not simpleminded.
    “Is the food to your liking?” Kenrick asked, smiling through clenched teeth. He wanted nothing so much as to demand she tell him immediately why he had been tricked into marrying her, but he could hardly do so with servants moving in and out of the room. Perhaps she had had no part in the deception. After all, she had arranged their meeting last night, futile though it had been, and