His Makeshift Wife. Anne Ashley
Whether she liked him or not—and the jury was still very much out on that particular issue—honesty obliged her to own that he had been a fine judge of horseflesh even in his youth, and she doubted that would have changed. ‘I’ll wander over to the stables presently myself.’
‘Well, you take your time, Miss Briony … Oh, there I goes again! Can’t get used to calling you madam.’
‘Don’t concern yourself, Janet. I don’t object.’
‘You might not. But I dare swear the master would. He’s already taking an interest in your well being, bless him! Said as how you weren’t to be disturbed too early and that you’d be taking breakfast in bed.’
Briony wasn’t altogether sure she cared to have another making decisions for her. She wasn’t accustomed to breaking her fast in bed; although she didn’t object to doing so this morning, she had no intention of making a habit of it just to please the new master of the house. So the sooner she made that perfectly plain the better!
After the wonderful dinner she had consumed the night before, she wasn’t feeling particularly hungry and was soon setting the tray aside and turning her attention to getting herself ready for the day ahead. She had finished dressing and was on the point of seating herself before the dressing table in order to do up her hair in a simple chignon, when she noticed the housekeeper staring fixedly down at the crumpled mound of bedcovers.
‘Something amiss, Janet?’
The housekeeper turned to look at her young mistress, her expression clearly troubled. ‘I trust not, Miss Briony … I sincerely trust not.’
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