Patricia Rice by This Magic Moment Page B

“On second thought, I’ll escort you.”
    “That really isn’t necessary,” she chided, leading him from the sun-filled study into the darkened hall. “I must learn to get about on my own. I don’t wish to interfere or be a burden to you. We shall carry on as we’ve always done.”
    That sounded good until he remembered how Christina normally went on. “You’re my wife now,” he muttered, steering her down a side hall toward the back of the manor. “I’ll look after you.”
    “Don’t be foolish. Peter is already waiting to talk with you, and I’m sure you have a steward who requires your attention. My mother seldom sees my father from sunup to sundown.”
    That’s rather how he’d expected to go on, but not just yet. He’d spent years watching Christina flit about the city without the right to insist he accompany her. Now he needed her company—her support and her help as well. Putting Sommersville to rights would not be the work of one man or one day.
    “If you’ll notice,” he said drily, “we did not spend time together after sundown. Unless you wish to reverse that course, humor me.”
    That—thankfully—shut her up.
    ***
    “There you are,” Meg cried. “Peter, I told you we shouldn’t intrude upon newlyweds. My goodness, Your Grace, you look as if you’ve slept in those clothes. It’s a good thing your servants will be arriving shortly.”
    Christina sought for even the slightest flicker of spite in Meg’s aura but found none. On the other hand, Harry’s aura darkened.
    “Exploring this abomination of a house is dirty business,” he said, as if that explained his dishevelment. “The two of you needn’t wait on us. And forget the formal address. When you call me ‘Your Grace,’ I look around for my father.”
    Peter did look as if he had been about to leave the breakfast room, Christina decided, but Meg was serenely ensconced at the gleaming table with its silver coffee and tea sets and delicate china. The room hadn’t appeared quite so elegant when she had left it earlier. It hadn’t occurred to her to order Meg’s maid to find the china service.
    “We might talk of one or two things after breakfast,” Peter said. “Father left me some instructions in his absence.”
    “Excellent. I need to look at the books.” After a proprietary kiss to Christina’s forehead, Harry grabbed the cup of coffee Meg poured for him and started for the door. “Christina, I’ll put you in charge of hiring staff. Just enough for the four of us for now. We’ll try to live in the new wing until I’ve found someone to assure me of the safety of the rest of the place.”
    “I thought the bedrooms weren’t finished in this part of the house?” Christina protested, not letting him escape so easily. She supposed hiring staff couldn’t be too terribly difficult, but housing them might be a problem if she wasn’t allowed the use of anything except public rooms.
    “For all I know, my father turned the ballroom into attics by now. Take a look around, see what we require, make lists.” Looking authoritative despite his rumpled shirt and mussed hair, Harry paced, sipping his coffee.
    Not quite understanding why Harry must personally do the work when dukes ought to have an office and staff to handle it, Christina wished she could wave a magic wand and put everything right so she could have her jolly Harry back. She’d been imagining playing in the Roman ruins with him, not hiring staff. “Is it the custom here to pay servants before they begin work? If so, I shall need coins.”
    Harry’s back stiffened. Christina glanced from his darkening aura to Peter and Meg, but she saw only their surprise at her question.
    “I’ll see that you have pocket money for immediate expenses,” Harry said. “Once we work out what is needed, I’ll set up a household account.”
    That didn’t answer her question, but it would have to suffice. Harry and Peter departed, leaving Christina with Meg. She rather