Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The group had stayed awake far too late into the night talking in the library. By the time they retired for the evening, Colin gave his room to Mercy and slept on the sofa in his study. He had nearly been asleep before his head hit the pillow, but he did not remain that way. It was inordinately uncomfortable, and he tossed and turned all night.

That was preferable to sharing a bed with Mercy. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable or give her the impression he wanted more than to sleep.

Light streamed through the study window and woke him far later than he typically would have slept. He stood and stretched, his neck creaking and back stiff. Sorry as he would be to see Lady Edith leave this morning, he welcomed returning to a mattress that evening, however lumpy it might be.

To his surprise, when Colin went to find breakfast, Lady Edith was already standing at the door speaking to Mercy, their voices low.

“I ought to wake Colin before you leave,” Mercy said, before noticing him on the stairs. “Oh, good. I will give you a minute together. Mrs. Johns has a basket for you, Aunt. I will go down and fetch it.”

“I would tell you not to trouble yourself, but instead I will request you add more shortbread to the basket while you’re in the kitchen. I have a mind to determine exactly where our recipes differ, which will require a good deal from each pan.”

Mercy’s eyes lit in amusement. “I will be certain you have plenty for your scientific research.”

“Good girl,” Lady Edith said, patting Mercy warmly on the cheek. It was not condescending, but rather filled with affection. Colin had himself been subjected to the same pat many times over the years. He had the sudden and definite impression that Lady Edith approved of Mercy. Did that mean she also approved of their relationship?

He could not be certain until he asked.

Mercy passed him, sending him a hesitant smile that he returned. He waited for her to disappear down the servants’ stairs entirely.

“Where is Flint?” he asked.

“Good morning, Nephew,” Lady Edith said. “I believe your butler is seeing that my carriage is properly warmed.”

He found this oddly amusing. “Flint is seeing to your warming bricks?”

“He is seeing that someone is seeing to them,” she corrected.

“Ah.” That made far more sense.

Lady Edith adjusted her shawl over her shoulders. “You have a very lovely wife, Colin.”

“I do,” he agreed. His body trembled in fear and anticipation. It had been on his mind to tell Hubble to cease with the construction until he could be satisfied he had the money to pay him, but at this point, the man ought to complete the roof at the very least. Colin would see to it Hubble was appropriately compensated, regardless of the outcome of this conversation.

He hoped he had done enough.

Her gaze was direct, considering. “You may wipe that anxious look from your face. I have not come with the intent of holding back any money from you.”

A rush of relief sluiced through his body, cooly washing through him. “When you arrived, you had mentioned?—”

She swatted his words away. “When I arrived, I had not yet met Mercy. Not really. It seems you took the direction from my letter entirely when you set out to secure a wife.”

“Was I not meant to?” he asked.

She peered at him. “I meant every word I wrote. What I had not expected was for you to find someone so quickly. It should not have come as any great surprise, though. You are nothing if not methodical and thoughtful.”

“And if I had not found a woman?”

Her smile was small, her eyes running over his face. “There was never any doubt of that, my dear.”

He wanted to ask why she had done it to begin with, but the question died on his tongue. While eccentric, it was no secret Lady Edith loved her family deeply, and he did not think he was the exception. She’d been a bit high-handed, perhaps, but despite her methods, he could not help but believe she had good motives for her requirements.

Either way, Colin had been given a choice. He was not forced into marriage, merely supplied with an opportunity.

“Mercy is a lovely addition to Winterbourne,” she said. “I am extraordinarily glad she has joined you. I never approved of you being left here in this manner, but I cannot control your mother.”

“So you thought to control me?” he asked dryly.

Lady Edith shook her head, and he noted how weary she looked. The circles evident beneath her eyes gave him a vague sense of uneasiness. Would this be the final time he saw his aunt? She had spoken of returning to see them, but with her health in such a decline, no one could know if it was altogether possible

“My methods might have been high-handed, but my motives were pure.” She looked at him with such focus, he imagined she intended to push her meaning into him by sheer force of will. “I thought to help diminish your loneliness. I had hoped your lack of marriage was due to the fact that you cannot seem to remove your head from your figures and lists long enough to notice the people around you, and I believe I was correct.”

Had that been the case? Had Colin been so concerned with himself, his house, his ever-present list of things that needed to be done, that he hadn’t noticed the woman who had been right in front of his nose for years? It was true he’d offered for Mercy because he felt she had all the qualities in Lady Edith’s letter, yes. But he had also found her beautiful, sweet, and thought that if he was ever going to fall in love, it would likely be with someone like her.

He hoped it would be with her.

It wasn’t until he allowed himself that thought that he realized how hard his heart was pounding.

“May I offer you some advice?” Lady Edith asked.

“Can I refuse you?” he joked, though in earnest he was hungry to hear what more she had to say. She could be enlightening and wise when she was not being ridiculous .

“Mercy has not been raised the way you have. I know what a trial it can be to merge two different upbringings. My Mr. Walker was a merchant, you know, and his life was much different than what I was used to, having been raised in an earl’s house. While it presented some difficulties for us in the beginning, it was not until I learned to let go of what I thought was right that we were able to find our own sense of normalcy.”

He’d forgotten the disparity between Lady Edith and Mr. Walker, but it wasn’t much different from what he and Mercy had. Lady Edith had the bearing and regality of a woman brought up as an earl’s daughter, but still she could be found baking shortbread in the kitchen. One could have both. One could be both.

If nothing else, Lady Edith had shown Colin how he ought to relax his strictures.

“Allow yourself to be a little messy, Colin. You will not regret it. Mercy, I think, will love it.”

Messy? Him ? The idea of willfully ruining a coat made him want to shudder. But the chance that Mercy would like it gave him the urge to do exactly that. Should he offer to bake with her? Weed the garden? Roll in the snow?

“What shall I love?” Mercy asked, joining them with a basket over her arm. Her cheeks were flushed from hurrying down to the kitchen and back. Her green eyes were bright, skipping between him and his great-aunt.

“Come and give me a kiss,” Lady Edith said, ignoring the question. “I must be on my way if I am to reach Richard before Christmas.”

Mercy obediently went to her side. Their embrace lasted longer than Colin expected, and he found himself rooted in place, watching his wife. She had shown such affection for his aunt in so short a time; her capacity to love was clearly great.

They walked outside to help Lady Edith into the carriage, their shoes crunching over snow-covered gravel. The footmen carried warming bricks, steam rising from them, before placing them inside.

Cold, biting air nipped at Colin’s face and penetrated his thin coat. When Lady Edith was settled, she leaned forward, holding his gaze. She lowered her voice, making him lean in further. “Make sacrifices, Colin. That is the way to show her you care.”

He nodded. Make sacrifices.

“My solicitor will see to it you have the money before Twelfth Night. Perhaps put some of it toward new mattresses, hmm?” With a twinkle in her smile, she leaned back and allowed him to close the door.

He stood at Mercy’s side and waved until the carriage was out of sight.

“Have you eaten breakfast?” he asked.

She looked at him. “I did earlier. You slept so late I nearly came for you.”

“I spent so much of the night tossing and turning, I fear by the time I truly fell asleep, it was nearly dawn. The sofa in my study is far less comfortable than our lumpy mattresses.” And that had been his second night enduring such torture.

“Could you not have found another bed?”

He had tried. They all needed to be taken out and beaten clean. Perhaps if he had been a little more like Mercy, he could have cleaned a bedchamber himself instead of waiting for his overburdened maids to find the time for it. “The dust was unacceptable.”

She nodded, turning toward the house, and he followed suit. “You could have…that is, I am sorry for taking your bed for the duration of Lady Edith’s visit. It would have not been…” She cleared her throat, her cheeks stained scarlet. “We are married, Colin. It would not have been the first time we’d shared a bed.”

“I did not want you to be uncomfortable.”

She stopped walking as her foot hit the first step, and she faced him. “It is your bedchamber, Colin.”

“I had the sense you were uneasy when we were faced with the same scenario in Bath. I did not wish to lead you to believe I expected more from you than you were comfortable giving.”

She stared at him. “If we are to be happily married, perhaps we should work on communicating better.”

That was certainly a start.

“Did your aunt mention the inheritance?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said at once. “She heartily approves of you, Mercy. The money will be ours before Twelfth Night, as promised.”

Relief passed over her face. “I am so happy for you, Colin. I greatly feared losing the money—then where would you have been? Stuck with a useless wife and no funds.”

Colin nearly choked on his surprise. “Useless? Gads, Mercy. What have I done to give you that impression?”

“Perhaps that is not the correct word. I only meant that you wouldn’t be able to marry a better dowry?—”

“Mercy,” he said sharply. “I did not marry a dowry. I married you.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “In a partnership to receive an inheritance. Is it really very different?”

Was it? He wanted to heartily disagree with her, but how could he do so without admitting he was growing to care for her? It was a frightening prospect to make such an admission without confidence that she returned his feelings. If she was to argue they had nothing beyond friendship and a mutual partnership, it would crush him. But the way she looked at him—the way her hand felt in his—he could not deny the pull between them.

What if she did not feel the same? He needed to show her in other ways, first. He considered Lady Edith’s directive to make sacrifices for Mercy. “Are you still planning to assist your mother with deliveries today?”

“Yes, but first we need to compile the shortbread. We usually wrap?—”

“You wrap it in brown paper and tie it with twine,” he said. “I know.”

The look in her eyes was hesitant.

“May I come with you?” he asked. “I would like to help.”

He had surprised her—that much was clear. He didn’t know if he liked that she was stunned by his willingness to help.

“It isn’t necessary, Colin.”

“Perhaps not, but I would like to all the same. Will your family be opposed my presence?”

“No, of course not. They would be happy for it, I think.”

He gave a nod, warming to the idea. “Then I would like to join you. May I eat something first?”

She nodded, chewing on her lip.

“I will do that straight away.” He paused, watching hesitation flit over her face. “What is it you are nervous to say?”

Her eyes widened nearly imperceptibly before a somewhat embarrassed expression fell over her features. “On the morning of our wedding, I might possibly have mentioned to my mother that we were a love match. ”

“Oh?” he asked, doing his best to feign nonchalance. Was this a declaration? His heart increased in speed.

“Don’t be cross with me,” she gently pleaded. “My mother was telling me I needn’t go through with the wedding if I did not want to. She was concerned I felt a need to marry only to beat Grace to the altar.”

Swift disappointment fell through him, but he did his best to remain placid. “You thought to allay her concerns.”

“I’m not sure what I hoped to achieve. At the time, it was certainly not altruistic. Grace had slithered into my head, and I’m afraid my pride got the better of me.”

“Understandable.” He hadn’t had that sort of relationship with his sister, of course, but he knew what Mercy had faced when they became engaged. A small part of him was glad she had said it, if for no other reason than the opportunity it presented to him now. “I suppose we ought to do what we can to reinforce that perception.”

“You mean to pretend you love me?” she asked, and he detected a faint sound of hope in her words.

“I mean to give them no room to imagine that either of us feel otherwise.” He smiled at her. “I will be in the morning room. Fetch me when you are ready to leave.”

They mounted the rest of the steps to the front door and Flint opened it for them to step through.

Mercy followed him inside. Colin went off to find breakfast, eager for the outing—eager to spend time with his wife.