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Only a day had passed since the wedding, and already Astrid had lost count of theMy Ladys.It still felt wrong to hear herself addressed that way, and she still had to suppress the instinct to correct people who used her title. But she was training herself, doing her best to break the habit.

Betsy had been an absolute godsend. She had spent the morning at the Dawson residence, helping Astrid to pack up all her things so that they could be transported to the manor. Lord Middleborough had offered to send his servants to do the whole job, but Astrid had declined.

She wanted a hand in this. She wanted to touch all of her possessions as she moved them from their old home to their new one. There was something significant about that, although she couldn’t have articulated what it was.

She unwrapped her hand mirror carefully in a length of fabric and placed it on her new vanity. “You don’t need to do that,” she called to Betsy.

The girl was dusting the bedposts. “I should do something to help, My Lady,” she protested. “You said you didn’t want me to unpack.”

“Perhaps you could just talk to me,” Astrid suggested. “That would be helpful.”

“That’s all?” Betsy asked. “Just talk?”

“I’ve never had anyone clean up for me before,” Astrid explained. “I suppose I’ll get comfortable with it, but right now it feels strange. And so much about my life is strange right now. What I really need is someone to help me get used to it all.”

Betsy nodded solemnly. “I can do that.”

“I was surprised to get my own chambers in Middleborough Manor,” Astrid confessed. “I had assumed I would be expected to share the Earl’s bed.”

“You don’t wish to do that?” Betsy asked.

“I don’t know,” Astrid said. “Not right away, anyway.”

“But he’s your husband.”

Astrid sighed and crossed the room to sit on the bed. The mattress was incredibly soft, and the blankets were thick and warm. She had never had anything like this at home. “Betsy,” she said. “As my lady’s maid, you’re loyal to me, right?”

“Ofcourse,” Betsy breathed.

“You wouldn’t repeat anything I told you in confidence to Lord Middleborough?”

“I’d never do that.”

She nodded. “The truth is that Lord Middleborough and I have hardly even had a conversation,” she admitted. “I don’t even know the man, and he doesn’t know me. I know that he’s my husband, but…well, this isn’t what I always imagined having a husband would feel like. Do you know what I mean?”

“I suppose it’s always hard in the beginning, My Lady,” Betsy said sympathetically.

“I think you probably know him better than I do,” Astrid admitted. “I only met him twice before the wedding, and one of those times hardly counted.”

“Maybe you would feel better if you got to know him a little better,” Betsy suggested.

“Maybe,” Astrid sighed. “I don’t really know how to do that, though.”

“Sit with him,” Betsy said. “Talk to him. Ask him to tell you about his day.”

Astrid shook her head. “He’s not exactly a big talker.”

“Will you forgive me if I say something, My Lady?”

“Of course,” Astrid said. “I want us to be friends, Betsy. Friends are honest with each other.”

Betsy nodded, then took a breath. She looked as if she were steeling herself to talk. “You sound as though you’ve given up before you’ve begun,” she said. “You sound like you’re not going to try.”

“Given up!” Astrid shook her head vigorously. “I haven’t given up anything! I married the man, didn’t I? I moved into his manor, didn’t I?”

“Forgive me, My Lady. I shouldn’t have said anything. I was out of line.”

“No, no,” Astrid said. “I’m not angry with you, Betsy. Not at all. I just…can’t see what you’re getting at. How can you think I’ve given up on making this work when I’ve sacrificed everything I’ve ever known to be here?”