Page 15 of Surrender to the Earl (Brides of Redemption #2)

R obert saw the astonishment that Mrs. Sanford could not momentarily hide, but then she merely nodded, realized her mistake, and said, “Aye, ma’am, thank you for tellin’ me.”

He almost felt sorry for the woman. She’d received one shock after another.

She was tall and robust, with gray hair pulled back in a simple bun, spectacles perched on her nose.

She wore an apron tied at the waist of a plain black gown that did not quite hide her broad, working-class shoulders.

Hopefully she kept house as if she always expected the mistress any moment, the way all competent servants should. They would soon find out.

And could she cook? His stomach rumbled at the thought. Their dawn breakfast had been many hours ago, and he still had at least an hour’s journey home by horse. He needed fortification.

But Audrey could barely contain her excitement, and he knew food was last on her list. Her expressions were so changeable now that she’d relaxed her guard around him.

He’d practically been able to see her processing every part of the village as he’d listed the buildings, probably creating her own map in her head.

She traveled a few villages away from home, and it was as if her own world had opened up for her.

“Please come inside, Mrs. Blake,” the housekeeper was saying. “There are three steps up.”

“Thank you. You will find that I learn quickly, so you will not have to continually explain such things to me.”

“My fiancée moved so comfortably around her home,” Robert offered, “that I had to be told she was blind.”

Audrey gave another of those pretty blushes that set off her golden eyes.

He told the coachman to take the carriage to the stable for help unloading, and to come into the kitchens for a meal and the last payment when he was done.

Once they’d stepped inside the hall, a young man came forward and bowed. Tall like his mother, he wore plain livery of a dark jacket, starched white shirt, and trousers. His blond hair was a riot of curls, and his eyes lively as he glanced curiously at the housekeeper.

Mrs. Sanford gave a brief smile. “My son, Francis, is our footman.”

“So I’ve been told by my land agent,” Audrey said.

“Francis, this is our mistress, Mrs. Blake.”

Audrey smiled as she chose a direction, but it was the wrong one, and Robert watched the young man send his mother a confused glance as he said, “Pleased to meet ye, ma’am.”

Both servants looked fearful, but Audrey only adjusted the direction of her body. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Francis. I understand your sister is the maid here.”

“One of them, ma’am,” he responded shyly, still glancing at his mother.

Did Mrs. Sanford seem to flinch upon hearing her son’s words? Robert wondered. Of course, she would not want him to speak freely with their new mistress.

Francis continued, “Shall I fetch her, Mo—Mrs. Sanford?”

“I do not mind if you call your mother the name you always do,” Audrey said. “But yes, I would like to meet the rest of your family.”

She shrugged out of her cloak, and Molly took it for her, folding both of their cloaks over her arm.

“’Tis a brisk day, Mrs. Blake,” Mrs. Sanford said. “Shall I bring tea to the drawin’ room while you wait?”

“I don’t wish to keep you from your luncheon duties,” Audrey said.

“’Tis no bother, ma’am. If you don’t mind plain fare, I have cold ham and carrot soup that I can warm if you’re hungry.”

“That would be good,” Robert said.

Audrey cocked her head toward him, smiling.

Over the next half hour, while they sipped their tea, they met Evelyn Sanford, also as tall as her mother, who blushed profusely and kept tucking strands of blond hair behind her ears.

Mr. Sanford, the groundskeeper and groom, was half a head shorter than the rest of his family but made up for it with a barrel chest and workman’s large hands.

He was balding on top, with a white fringe that circled his head and puffed over his ears.

Robert thought he seemed somehow … disapproving of Audrey, but his tone was respectful, if clipped.

“You have an older daughter, I understand?” Audrey asked, holding her teacup between both hands as if to warm herself.

Before Mr. Sanford could speak, his wife entered the room. “We do, ma’am, but she is a widow livin’ nearby.”

“Oh, I am sorry to hear that,” Audrey murmured. “Do send her my sympathies.”

Robert had spent too many years learning to read the faces of prisoners, and it seemed to him that this little family was hiding something, with the way they glanced at each other, and always quickly away from Audrey.

In fact, there seemed to be a decided shift in attitude since the family had had a chance to speak alone together.

Or was he being too protective of Audrey, just as she’d accused him? These people were allowed to be dismayed that their cozy family life was about to change.

After a delectable luncheon—thank God—in a sunny dining room that overlooked a terrace, Robert followed Audrey about as Mrs. Sanford led them on a tour of the ground floor.

Molly described everything with her usual thoroughness, and Robert saw Audrey’s concentration as she tried to absorb all the details.

He did not attend her on the first floor but was waiting in the study that also seemed to be the library.

When Audrey came to find him, he set down the book on London history he’d been reading.

She looked much more hesitant than he’d ever seen her, but only in movement, not in manner.

She still glowed with the excitement of the day.

“Robert?” she called.

“I’m here.”

Her body turned toward him. “Oh bother, I’ve already forgotten where everything is,” she mumbled, reaching forward with a hand as she started to walk.

Robert took her hand and held it between his own.

“You don’t need to do that,” she whispered.

“The door is open. Do you want your servants to see me taking my leave more formally than a lover should?”

She stopped fighting and let her hand rest in his. She pressed her lips together, even as he chuckled.

“No gloves, Audrey?”

“I forgot after luncheon.”

“You were far too excited.”

“It seems you were, too.”

He knew she referred to his hands, but his mind briefly went elsewhere, his smile fading. “I don’t want to leave you like this,” he said at last.

She, too, sobered. “But you have done everything I asked of you—more than even that. You escorted me to my new home and kept me safe from the dangers of the road. Why should you feel unsettled now?”

“Because this household is full of strangers to you.”

“But the land agent said?—”

“He’s a stranger, too,” Robert interrupted. “He seems to have done his job, at least as far as household servants go. Everything shines with polish and is well taken care of.” But the servants had exchanged suspicious glances with each other and he couldn’t forget that.

“I could smell the lemon polish,” she said, smiling. “And in the unused rooms, sheets covered the furniture. They’re removing all of that now.”

“You haven’t seen the last of me, Audrey. I plan to visit you most frequently. I will feel better to see you settled in.”

“You worry about my blindness,” she told him, “but you needn’t. My other senses do almost as well, and people reveal much by their voices.”

“Tell me what it was like,” he said, deliberately delaying his departure. “Going blind, I mean. You must have been so frightened.”

He drew her toward a chair, and she accepted his help with a smile.

“It was a long time ago, Robert. I was seven, and so weak with sickness. I most remember being relieved to wake up feeling better.”

“And your sight was just gone?”

“Completely, like the sun had blown out. I remember my mother holding me and crying, and though she was relieved I would live, there was great sorrow, too. And fear. She worried that Blythe would succumb as well, but although she experienced the fever, it was never as severe as mine.”

“How did you cope, being so young?” Was he trying to torture himself, to feel even more guilty that this woman was alone in the world because of him?

“I was very sad for a long time, of course.” Her voice was lower, almost distant.

“It is difficult to think of those days, when I was coming to the realization that people would treat me differently. I might have been only seven, but I was smart, and I understood what was happening. My mother was the only one who treated me the same, who did not coddle me or behave as if I should now be confined to bed or a chair by the window for the rest of my life.”

“She sounds like a good woman.”

“She was, and her death seven years ago was like the light leaving our family.”

She sighed and lost herself in a moment of reflection, but Robert had learned patience in the army.

“It was she who suggested I keep the world of sight alive in my mind, to replay the memories over and over, so I wouldn’t forget them. What my family looks like, the sun setting, a winter storm.”

“That did not make you feel bitter?”

“It did not make it worse,” she corrected. “Of course I felt bitter that I would be different, but my mother didn’t let me linger long in that. She pointed out that God has plans for people, and we can’t always know them.”

“A wise woman,” he murmured.

Audrey grinned. “She was. And I was lucky enough to have Molly. Finding things in the dark was almost a game between us. Even then, she was my guide in my new world, reading the words I painfully wrote out for my governess.”

“You still write?”