Married to a Stranger by Louise Allen Page B

to look back at him, expecting him to leave her alone on their wedding night and apparently quite composed about it. What did that say about her expectations of him? ‘I shall dine at home. Seven-thirty, my dear, if that would suit.’
    Sophia coloured a little at the endearment, but nodded to Mrs Datchett and Hawksley and followed the maid upstairs. Cal stood and watched until she vanished around the turn of the stair. His wife in his house. It was curiously, and unexpectedly, pleasant. And he would have neither, he realised, if it had not been for the shipwreck and Daniel’s death. This charming, gentle young woman would be his sister-in-law.
    ‘Sir?’
    Cal hauled himself out of the deep pit of his thoughts. ‘Yes, Hawksley?’
    To his credit the other man did not flinch at the tone. ‘Wilkins is above stairs, sir.’
    His new English valet of a few months was a pernickety little man, much given to tutting under his breath at outrages such as a creased cuff or a loose button. Cal had not asked his body servant Ardash to leave his home and family to travel with him to England, and thank God he had not, or the poor devil would likely be dead by now. On the ship he had got used to looking after himself, but one of his first acts on arriving in London had been to find a man to maintain the standards of appearance and dress the Company’s Court of Directors would expect.
    ‘You moved my things down from the main bedroom and organised the room on the first floor for my use? Excellent. Then send hot water up, if you please.’ He climbed the stairs to his new chamber, a safe one floor below the one that was now his wife’s. He had every intention of visiting her bedchamber regularly, but he would choose his time, not succumb to the urge to make love to her just because she was next door. And with a floor between them there was no risk he would disturb her when the nightmares seized him.
    Wilkins put down a pile of linens and bowed. He seemed to feel that his master’s new status as a married man required some formality. Cal looked around the room to distract himself. It would do, although it seemed dark and rather bland.
    ‘The valises are here, sir. I will have madam’s heavy trunk carried up whilst you are at tea. Do you require a change of linen now?’
    What he would like was a cold bath, Cal thought with an inward grimace. He shrugged out of his coat and surveyed the state of his cuffs. ‘No, this will do until I change for dinner.’ He rolled up his sleeves as Andrew the footman came in with a jug of water. ‘For later, the swallowtail coat and evening breeches and the striped silk stockings.’ He must signal the importance of their first dinner as man and wife with suitable attention. ‘And I want flowers for the dining room and my wife’s bedchamber. Andrew, will you organise that as soon as possible?’
    ‘Sir. I’ll go along to Shepherd’s Market at once. Shall I get roses if I can? They may have some hothouse ones, sir.’ Andrew looked as though he was bright enough to choose the right thing.
    ‘Yes. Something pretty and elegant. Deep pink, if possible. Do not stint on quality or quantity.’ Callum probed at his own motives as he tied a fresh neckcloth. Was he attempting to woo his new bride? Or was this some sort of apology for that afternoon at Long Welling when he had so shocked her by his ardour? He caught his valet’s eye in the mirror and smoothed the frown off his forehead. What did it matter, so long as Sophia was not unhappy and the household ran smoothly?
    ‘Buy flowers regularly. Use your discretion unless Mrs Chatterton expresses a wish for anything in particular.’ In India flowers and garlands were available in lavish abundance, for a few paice. Here they would be more of a luxury, an easy way to make Sophia feel that he was paying attention to her comfort.
    She was sitting in the drawing room with tea pot and cups arrayed in front of her when he came down: a picture of