safe and on her way home!”
Eustacia waved the telegram over her head as she dashed into the brightly lit conservatory. Or rather, the brightly lit laboratory , as it had been cleared of plants a number of years ago and lovingly dedicated to the pursuit of chemical science.
Harold lifted his gaze from the beaker of bubbling liquid that stood before him. His protective eyewear was covered in steam, so he pushed the large glasses off his face to rest on top of his curly, red hair. “I beg your pardon, Mother? Did you say she was safe?”
“Yes! Yes!”
“Are you referring to Miss Wilson?” he asked.
His mother skidded to a halt before him. “Of course I am, you silly, silly man! She’s safe! Damien has procured her!”
He took the telegram that his mother held out to him and read it. “Well, that is indeed good news. I told you Damien was the right man for the job.”
“Yes, you were right as always. He no doubt put that despicable kidnapper in his place and…Well, let’s not go into that. We know how Damien can put up a good fight. The point is, they’re on their way home! They’ll be here in two days.”
“Two days. You don’t say.”
“I do say, Harold. You’ll have to get a haircut.”
“Yes, I believe you’re right.”
“And we must plan a special dinner in Miss Wilson’s honor. She is the future Lady Osulton, after all. Would roast lamb do? Or do you thinkshe would prefer beef? I believe Americans are beef eaters, are they not? You were there. You should know. Or perhaps they eat so much of it, it’s become a bore. Oh, Harold, what should it be?”
Harold looked down at his beaker. The bubbles had disappeared. “I don’t know, Mother. You decide.” He slid his protective eyewear back down over his eyes and leaned close. “What the devil happened?” he muttered to himself. “They were there a minute ago.”
That evening at the inn, after Adele had bathed and spoken to the magistrate, she prepared for supper. She had to don the same homespun dress she’d been wearing for the past three days, but at least she felt clean.
She left her bedchamber and went to the dining room. A movement to her left caught her eye, and she spotted Lord Alcester making his way across the room to greet her. He offered his arm. “Good evening, Miss Wilson. Our table is this way.”
He had bathed, too, and shaved. His hair, still damp, was slicked back off his face. He looked…Well, he looked…
Different.
He escorted her to a table in the far corner. It was clothed in white, with a vase of fresh daisies in the center next to a bottle of wine. A candle burned in a small jar.
Adele stopped before the table and stared down at it. “I can’t begin to describe how good it feels to be among civilized people again, and tolook at such a lovely table laid out with such care.” She gazed up at him. “I’ve been eating turnip and beef in a pan for the past three days.”
He nodded with understanding, then moved behind her to pull out her chair. “Then it will be my pleasure this evening, Miss Wilson, to provide you with what you’ve been missing. I’m happy to report that the food here is excellent. Everything is done with care.” He took his seat opposite her. “I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of wine. I hope you’ll join me in a toast.”
“I’d be delighted.”
He poured her a glass, then lifted his own. “To life and marriage.”
“To both.”
Over the next hour, they discussed light topics—the artwork in the dining room, the population of the village and surrounding areas, the weather, of course, and the route they would take to reach Osulton Manor in the most efficient time.
Soon the food arrived, and they enjoyed their dinner while the pink hue of twilight streamed in through the lace-covered window and lent a relaxed, magical atmosphere to the room. Their conversation relaxed as well, as they meandered into more personal topics, without ever realizing the transition had
Eustacia waved the telegram over her head as she dashed into the brightly lit conservatory. Or rather, the brightly lit laboratory , as it had been cleared of plants a number of years ago and lovingly dedicated to the pursuit of chemical science.
Harold lifted his gaze from the beaker of bubbling liquid that stood before him. His protective eyewear was covered in steam, so he pushed the large glasses off his face to rest on top of his curly, red hair. “I beg your pardon, Mother? Did you say she was safe?”
“Yes! Yes!”
“Are you referring to Miss Wilson?” he asked.
His mother skidded to a halt before him. “Of course I am, you silly, silly man! She’s safe! Damien has procured her!”
He took the telegram that his mother held out to him and read it. “Well, that is indeed good news. I told you Damien was the right man for the job.”
“Yes, you were right as always. He no doubt put that despicable kidnapper in his place and…Well, let’s not go into that. We know how Damien can put up a good fight. The point is, they’re on their way home! They’ll be here in two days.”
“Two days. You don’t say.”
“I do say, Harold. You’ll have to get a haircut.”
“Yes, I believe you’re right.”
“And we must plan a special dinner in Miss Wilson’s honor. She is the future Lady Osulton, after all. Would roast lamb do? Or do you thinkshe would prefer beef? I believe Americans are beef eaters, are they not? You were there. You should know. Or perhaps they eat so much of it, it’s become a bore. Oh, Harold, what should it be?”
Harold looked down at his beaker. The bubbles had disappeared. “I don’t know, Mother. You decide.” He slid his protective eyewear back down over his eyes and leaned close. “What the devil happened?” he muttered to himself. “They were there a minute ago.”
That evening at the inn, after Adele had bathed and spoken to the magistrate, she prepared for supper. She had to don the same homespun dress she’d been wearing for the past three days, but at least she felt clean.
She left her bedchamber and went to the dining room. A movement to her left caught her eye, and she spotted Lord Alcester making his way across the room to greet her. He offered his arm. “Good evening, Miss Wilson. Our table is this way.”
He had bathed, too, and shaved. His hair, still damp, was slicked back off his face. He looked…Well, he looked…
Different.
He escorted her to a table in the far corner. It was clothed in white, with a vase of fresh daisies in the center next to a bottle of wine. A candle burned in a small jar.
Adele stopped before the table and stared down at it. “I can’t begin to describe how good it feels to be among civilized people again, and tolook at such a lovely table laid out with such care.” She gazed up at him. “I’ve been eating turnip and beef in a pan for the past three days.”
He nodded with understanding, then moved behind her to pull out her chair. “Then it will be my pleasure this evening, Miss Wilson, to provide you with what you’ve been missing. I’m happy to report that the food here is excellent. Everything is done with care.” He took his seat opposite her. “I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of wine. I hope you’ll join me in a toast.”
“I’d be delighted.”
He poured her a glass, then lifted his own. “To life and marriage.”
“To both.”
Over the next hour, they discussed light topics—the artwork in the dining room, the population of the village and surrounding areas, the weather, of course, and the route they would take to reach Osulton Manor in the most efficient time.
Soon the food arrived, and they enjoyed their dinner while the pink hue of twilight streamed in through the lace-covered window and lent a relaxed, magical atmosphere to the room. Their conversation relaxed as well, as they meandered into more personal topics, without ever realizing the transition had
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