Jo Beverley by Forbidden Magic

an irritating fellow. You and Owain can weep into your teacups over me. But for now, why not settle for Saxonhurst? It’s better than ‘my lord,’ and may in time slide into the friendly Sax.”
    Meg accepted the olive branch with gratitude. “Very well, Saxonhurst. And what are you going to call me? You can’t call me ‘my dear’ all the time.”
    As an attack, it was daunting as a feather. “I will be happy to call you ‘my dear’ all the time if you wish.However, I would prefer to use your given name. Minerva, is it not? The goddess of wisdom.”
    Meg was about to correct him, but bit it back. Minerva was her real name, and it would keep a sense of formality between them. At the moment, the more formal the better.
    Anyway, how much more elegant, how much more “countessy” it sounded. “Minerva Saxonhurst,” she said, almost to herself, for she knew that a countess used her husband’s title rather than his family name.
    â€œDelightful.” He gestured. “Pray, Minerva Saxonhurst, step into your home.”
    Aware of smiling, indulgent servants, who clearly thought their flamboyant employer top-of-the-trees, Meg obeyed.

Chapter 6
    The house was a tall, double-fronted town house of gray stone, and in the spacious, tiled hall, a small army of servants stood ready to greet her. Every one was neatly turned out and bright eyed with curiosity.
    Meg put aside another preconception. She wasn’t needed to rescue the deranged earl from disorganization and chaos. She wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t deranged, but not in any way that good housekeeping and tender nursing would mend.
    Perhaps all she was needed for was the threatening bed.
    Ah well, she intended to fit the role of wife in whatever way he wished. In fact, her rebellious banter in the coach could have been unruly. She glanced at him. He clearly hadn’t minded. The idea of having someone to fence words with, someone who didn’t mind her frankness and could give as good as he got, was rather exciting.
    She’d certainly not expected it in a husband.
    She spotted one liveried footman and just knew from his lively face and small stature that he was Susie’s Monkey. He winked at her, grinning. Not surprising that he was happy when she’d just provided him with the means to start up in business.
    A stately, gray-haired gentleman, doubtless the butler, came toward the earl, but before he could speak, one of the servants who’d been at the church cried, “Lord and Lady Saxonhurst. Hip-hip-hooray!”
    And the hall rang with cheers.
    In the following moment of silence, a voice said, “What folly have you fallen into now, Frederick?”
    Meg felt the earl’s arm turn to iron beneath her hand.He whipped to face the side of the hall, where a silver-haired lady sat in an ornate, old-fashioned sedan chair, two chairmen liveried in crimson and silver standing like statues between the shafts.
    The chair door stood open so Meg could see that the woman was dressed entirely in black, but of rich silk encrusted with jet. Her silver hair curled out from under the brim of a ruched, black silk bonnet. Her eyes had a familiar yellowish glint, and in the lined face those eyes looked hawkish.
    â€œYour Grace, what a surprise.” Meg had never before heard a voice convey bitter acid.
    The old woman didn’t flinch. She turned her hawk’s gaze on Meg. “My poor child. This really wasn’t wise, no matter how urgent your need—”
    Before Meg could force any response out of her paper-dry mouth, the earl said, “Minerva is a respectable lady and now my countess, Your Grace. I must insist on complete courtesy.”
    The butler cleared his throat. “The dowager duchess brought baggage, my lord.” He indicated a huge pile of valises and bandboxes tucked away in a corner.
    â€œWill you throw me out into the street, Frederick?”
    â€œI