Page 40 of Cupid Comes to Little Valentine (The Venturesome Ladies of Little Valentine #1)

Mama dearest…

They stopped at The Bell in Ticehurst as promised, to change horses and stretch their legs. Though they were not hungry, having recently finished the contents of the picnic, Clementine enjoyed a pot of tea and some freshly baked biscuits, whilst Beaumarsh drank a pint of ale.

“It’s very good,” he said, licking his lips with relish. “Try some.”

Clementine regarded the dark amber liquid dubiously but, having decided in the carriage she would be bold, she took the heavy glass from him and raised it to her lips.

“Ugh!” She pulled a face and set the glass down, hastening to pick up her tea and take a sip. “How can you drink that? It’s so bitter!” He laughed. “That’s what makes it good. Refreshing,” he added, taking a large swallow.

“I will content myself with tea and biscuits. Now, if you have champagne or wine, I might reconsider sharing,” she added, taking another biscuit from the plate and smacking his hand when he went to take one himself.

“Ah, but what’s yours is mine, my lady,” he said with a wink, and snatched one, stuffing it in his mouth whole as she rolled her eyes at him.

“Such a child.”

He grinned, still chewing, and Clementine laughed.

The rest of the journey seemed to go on forever, as the day waned and the sun dropped ever lower. Yet, though she felt they had been travelling for days, it was barely seven in the evening when Beaumarsh announced they were approaching his home.

“I hope you like it,” he said, and she noticed the way his brow furrowed and realised he was a little anxious.

“I’m certain I shall, if you do,” she said with a smile, but this did not seem to soothe him. “You do like it here?” she asked, suddenly filled with trepidation.

He shifted in his seat, looking ill at ease.

“It’s a beautiful building, impressive and with an astonishing history.

The gardens are splendid, in large part because of Mother, but…

but it has never been my home. Never felt like home, at least,” he amended with a frown.

“I didn’t really know what a home was, how it ought to be, until I spent time at the vicarage.

There is a feeling about your home, something unseen and yet tangible that makes it welcoming and a place one where wishes to remain.

I’m afraid Cavendish House is nothing like that, but perhaps in time and with your help, we might change it, so that it is? ”

The words were a little diffident—perhaps he thought he was giving her a mountain to climb before she’d even set foot through the door—but Clementine could not have been more touched by his hopes for the place they would share as man and wife.

“Oh.” She said, gazing at him. This information cast more light upon the man she had married, for how could he ever settle himself, be at ease and content, if he did not have a place where he could be comfortable, no matter what?

Everyone needed a haven where they could close the door upon the world and be safe and loved.

She had been luckier than she could ever express, and she was determined her husband should know that feeling too.

Whether their marriage was the success she now wished it to be, or if they were only ever dear friends, she would give him that much.

“I should like that very much. But, your mother….” she said, suddenly comprehending something she had been too preoccupied to consider as deeply as she ought.

His mother.

Heavens above. She was about to step into a house that Beaumarsh himself had declared he wished to change, a house his mother had enjoyed dominion over for decades.

“Clementine? My poor darling, you’ve gone white as a sheet,” he said in concern, reaching for her hand.

“I’m sorry. I ought not to have broached the subject like that, it’s only that you asked.

But do not worry about Mama. She is a dear creature, if somewhat vexing, but not half so frivolous as she makes out, and she is quite content to move into the dower house, I promise.

Indeed, she immediately set about having the entire place redecorated, which she will enjoy enormously, I may assure you.

I have been very generous to her, and she is eager to hand over the reins of Cavendish House to you, for it is quite a responsibility and—” He broke off, immediately realising he had inadvertently made things worse.

“Oh! My word!” Clementine exclaimed, as she saw exactly why his mother was eager to get rid of the responsibility. The place was on a palatial scale.

Her father had mentioned that he had read a description of the property, describing it as being one of the best examples of fortified medieval manor house in England, but that had in no way prepared her.

There were turrets everywhere, and towers, dozens of them, acres of roof tops, and an incalculable variety of mullioned windows that glinted in the sunshine.

It was vast and terribly intimidating to think that she was now mistress of such a place.

“Did your father not explain to you what manner of property it was?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“No, he omitted that little detail,” Clementine replied faintly, and then told herself to buck up. No, she had not been trained since birth to run such a grand and intimidating house, but she could learn. It was daunting certainly, but that did not mean she wasn’t up to the task.

“It isn’t actually as grand as it appears.”

Clementine quirked a scathing eyebrow at this soothing comment. “Oh? Because it looks like a small town.”

He laughed. “I know, love, but it’s an illusion. A deliberate one, actually, to impress and make visitors feel small and insignificant.”

“It’s working,” she replied, her tone rueful.

“There are dozens of halls and passageways that open onto courtyards, but whilst it is sprawling, in many places the house is only one room deep. Yes, it is large. There is no escaping that fact, but not as overwhelming as it makes out.”

She returned a sceptical glance, and he smiled and took her hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Courage, love. You’ll be fine, and I will help as much as I can.

Mrs Abbott is housekeeper here, and you will like her very much, I know you will.

She has the place running like clockwork.

So, you’ll be able to do as much or as little as you like, and the place will still run, I promise.

If you wish to sit in the library and read all day, you can.

The house won’t fall down. But I know you won’t be satisfied with that, and Mama makes work for herself because she likes to entertain a good deal, and she’s particular about details. ”

Clementine nodded and steeled her spine. For hours, she had longed to get here, but she had failed to properly consider the ordeal she had to endure before she could be alone with her husband as she wished.

Much to her dismay, as the carriage drew closer to a building that—illusion or no—appeared as if it could encompass the entirety of Little Valentine, she saw a vast army of servants awaiting her arrival.

“You can do this,” Beaumarsh said, seeing her eyes widen further in alarm. “I know how brave you are, and how capable. I’m proud of you, Clementine. Be proud of yourself.”

Clementine turned away from the intimidating scene and stared at him, astonished by his words. She had not expected them, but they sank beneath her skin, warming her. She smiled and put up her chin.

“That’s my girl,” he said, his voice soft and approving, and the pride in his eyes seemed entirely genuine.

Baffled by his manner and his tenderness, Clementine had no time to ponder what it meant from a man who had offered only friendship, for her staff, and her mother-in-law, awaited her.

Beaumarsh felt sick. He should have warned her and explained more about his home, but he’d feared she might be frightened off.

No matter how many times he’d assured himself Clementine was the bravest person he had ever known, it had still seemed safer to say nothing.

Now he he’d prepared her. He hated seeing the anxiety in her eyes and, worse, he feared she might already be regretting her hasty decision to marry him.

He knew she had done it for her family’s sake more than her own, for the title and his wealth did not signify to her as it might to other young ladies.

But the fear she might be as lonely here as he had always been, that she might not carve out a life for herself from the thick walls and endless acres of land, made his heart shrivel in his chest.

Still, she had rallied, and he felt a glow of pride as he introduced the elegant woman beside him to his staff.

She really was lovelier than he had ever imagined.

How had he not noticed that at once? And the way she had teased him in the carriage, bold and determined to have her own way, had made his blood sing and burn in equal measure.

She had surprised him. No, not surprised, she had stunned him, revealing his wife to be a creature far more fascinating than he had even realised, and he had figured out how special she was some time ago.

He was a lucky dog and, if he was to keep any of the other fellows from sniffing around and stealing her from under his nose, he would need to be on his guard.

Whilst there was a code of honour regarding men’s wives before they had delivered their heir and spare, not everyone could be trusted to keep to that.

A woman like Clementine would be catnip to some unscrupulous fellow, and bored and unhappy wives were notoriously easy to seduce.