Mutual Consent by Gayle Buck Page B

his eyes and his quick lithe movements. From the first, she had been attracted to him, despite his lordship’s unfortunate propensities for gambling and womanizing. Before, her awareness of the earl’s attributes had all been academic, but now, this dangerously attractive nobleman was her lawful husband.
    She was sitting close enough to him that the clean masculine scent of musk, cloves, and sandalwood was in her nostrils. As she realized this, she was abruptly and newly aghast at what she had done.
    She had consigned her future into the hands of a stranger, all on the conditions of a flimsy verbal agreement.
    Babs’ introspection was so deep that at the earl’s touch of her arm, she startled like a timid rabbit. His lordship’s brows rose in questioning surprise. Babs flushed. “I—I was thinking, my lord. I am sorry.”
    Lord Chatworth did not comment upon her nervousness, but instead remarked, “We have arrived, my lady.”
    Startled, Babs realized for the first time that the carriage was slowing. Despite the knowledge that it revealed a measure of gaucheness, she leaned toward the window for a glimpse of her new home.
    The carriage stopped. The door was almost immediately opened by an expressionless manservant in red-and-gold livery. The earl got out and then, as on an afterthought, he turned to offer a hand to his new wife as she descended to the sidewalk. The manservant shut the carriage door and signaled the coachman to drive on, then ran ahead of the earl and the countess up the steps to the open door of the town house.
    With her hand lightly on her husband’s arm, Babs looked up at the impressive facade of the town house as they ascended the steps. When she had come on her veiled visit, she had not taken particular note of the residence itself because it had not been of importance. But now the town house was to be her home and she found herself quelled by the sheer size of the place.
    When she and the earl stepped through the open door and into the front hall, she was astonished to see a long row of servants. The servants stood at quiet attention, their eyes fixed upon the couple who had just entered. The earl was apparently just as surprised as she was by their reception. Babs caught a muttered expletive from him. However, when he spoke it was mildly enough.
    “What is the meaning of this gathering, Smithers?”
    “The staff has gathered to convey our respects to my lord and her ladyship upon this auspicious occasion,” said the butler, bland of face and voice.
    “I should have expected something of the sort,” Lord Chatworth said softly, an odd smile playing about his mouth. More loudly, he said, “Quite proper, Smithers.”
    The butler gave a slight bow. He gestured for his lord and lady to precede him and with grave formality proceeded to introduce each member of the staff to the new Countess of Chatworth.
    Barbara inclined her head and murmured what was appropriate, all the while acutely aware of her husband’s amused expression. As for the members of the household, she met varying glances of scarcely veiled curiosity, of contempt, of critical reserve, even patent hostility. By the end of the formal ceremony, she had fully realized the difficulty she faced in assuming her position as lady of the house. Given the nature of her marriage and her own lack of social stature, the staff would not easily accept her, as they would instantly have done someone of, or near, equal birth to the Earl of Chatworth. Unless Babs completely missed her guess, there was going to be a pitched battle to prove herself worthy of her position, which she had every intention of doing. She had learned well from her aunt that a household must be guided by a firm hand, or chaos resulted.
    Babs was not one to give over before the battle was even joined. Her trepidation and awe upon entering the town house evaporated with the stirring of her pride and her anger. She could do nothing about her birth. But she knew very well how to