the happiness I felt, I dreaded today a little, too. It was the first time I was attempting to take the baby out socially. Yes, I would have Nora there, but I wanted things to go smoothly. If I thought I’d have to spend one more day trapped inside Thornham, wandering the halls like a prisoner, I might go mental.
I was most of the way to the front door when Mrs. Winters caught me. “Will you be taking dinner at the normal hour?”
I suspected that Mrs. Winters was horrified by Smith’s and my lack of decorum. Given that we had no formal dining room, we often took dinner in the kitchen with whatever staff was around for the evening. Some nights we skipped an evening meal entirely. On more than one occasion, she’d cooked a whole meal only to discover we weren’t hungry. We’d quickly learned that on those nights, we were expected to eat whether we wanted to or not. It was a lot less like having a housekeeper and more like having an overbearing governess.
“I suppose it would be better to ask Mr. Price. I don’t know how long he’ll be with Rowan.”
Her mouth pinched into a grim line, revealing a mapwork of wrinkles. “Customarily, the lady of the house makes these decisions.”
I bit my tongue before I could tell her that I was about as far from a lady as she could imagine.
“I guess you’ll have to settle for the gentleman of the house.” I hoped she used that terminology with Smith. The only thing more suspect than calling me a lady was thinking of him as a gentleman.
Not that he’d been his usual self in that regard since Penny was born.
“And will Miss Welter be dining with you?”
I could tell from the way she asked that the idea of the nanny eating dinner with the family was even more scandalous than my disinterest in running the household like we were in a nineteenth century novel.
“For fuck’s sake, I don’t know,” I exploded. Mrs. Winters grimaced slightly but maintained her composure. I suppose she now knew exactly how much of a lady I was. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to be late, and the baby is in the car.”
“Of course, I would never dream of keeping you from your child,” she said in a clipped tone, but there was a current running through her words like a trickle of ice cold water.
I felt considerably less buoyant as I stepped out the front door, shrugging my Burberry trench coat over my shoulders. A loud whistle sliced through the air, followed by Smith’s voice. “I’m not certain the village is prepared for you.”
My husband’s feet, clad in chestnut-leather hunting boots, crunched along the gravel pathway toward me, a smirk carved on his handsome face. Smith had acclimated to the country with enviable ease. His Barbour jacket fit him like he’d been born to this lifestyle, its waxed canvas shell a deep olive-green that brought out his eyes. He’d turned up his brown corduroy collar against the wind, which had swept his hair into a sexy mess. Today he’d skipped his razor, leaving a noticeable stubble along his strong jaw. My core tightened at the sight of him. That had been happening more and more of late.
It was the only thing that was happening. I’d lost track of all the reasons why.
“I’ll see you this evening,” I said, descending the stairs. “Where’s Rowan?”
“Apparently, he doesn’t need my opinion on how to run an estate,” Smith said ruefully.
My mouth gaped. “He didn’t?”
“In fairness, he’s right. I don’t think the month we spent with your mother actually counts as real experience.” He bent to sweep a kiss over my lips, when he finally straightened up, his green eyes stormed. “I’m not certain I want you to leave, after all.”
I licked my lower lip, searching for signs that he meant it. I’d managed to wriggle into a pre-pregnancy pair of black, leather pants and a white silk blouse that buttoned too low to be proper for a countryside luncheon. Smith caught the lapels of my cashmere coat and tugged them together.
“I don’t think Mrs. Winters approves of me going out like this,” I murmured to him. “Actually, I don’t think she approves of me in general.”
“Who cares, beautiful?” he muttered. “Although, I think I’d rather you stay home and work if you’re going to wear something like this. It reminds me of sneaking peeks at your breasts when you worked for me.”
“Sir,” I