He feigned exasperation. "I'm doing my best! Nan Goodwyn had already begun bothering me on this very subject in London, a fortnight before Micheline and I were even married!"
To Micheline's astonishment Betsy laughed and replied, "I hope you don't expect me to believe that you let a few simple words spoken in church hold you off!" She waggled a finger at him. "I know you better than that, my boy!"
Sandhurst blinked, then chuckled. "Would you make me out a lecher before my sweet bride?"
"Your lady looks as if she has her wits about her, Lord Andrew, and I wouldn't expect you to marry less. Surely I haven't said more than she already knows!" Betsy beamed at Micheline, adding, "You all must be tired, and no doubt my lady is eager to see more of her new home."
The manor's buildings were grouped around a square courtyard that contained charming flower beds and carved benches. Inside, there were a bewildering number of rooms: twenty bedchambers, a private dining room plus summer and winter parlors, a high-arched, two-story great hall with its connecting chapel, and not only a pantry and buttery but also pastry, laundry, and linen rooms. There was also a magnificent library and a long gallery lined with windows on one side and exquisite Flemish tapestries on the other. One of the reasons the house was so warm and inviting, in Micheline's opinion, was the generous use of artfully refined linenfold paneling, its edges decorated with carvings to counterfeit embroidery.
The great hall was bathed in sunlight and strewn with fresh herbs and fragrant hyacinths. Paintings lined the walls and Micheline was on her way to look at them when a spaniel came bounding into the room. The dog ran straight for Sandhurst, who knelt to welcome him, laughing.
"Meet Percy," he said to Micheline.
"That's an unexpected name!" She came over to pet the spaniel's sleek head, smiling. Percy was mainly white, with a few dark brown patches on his body and long, silky sable-colored ears.
"I made the mistake of letting Cicely name him when he was a puppy. She was only five or so at the time and decided that he resembled a friend of mine called Sir Percy Buckthorn. As a result, I've had to hide the dog the few times Percy's visited. I don't imagine he'd be flattered to meet his namesake."
Percy let out a short woof of appreciation and licked his master's cheek. When Sandhurst stood up and walked over to the paintings with Micheline, the spaniel trotted along at his side, attempting to assume a position between the two people.
"Oh, dear," Micheline whispered in pretended anxiety. "I'm afraid your friend is jealous. I hope he's not used to sleeping on your bed!"
He laughed. "Rest easy, my lady. In fact, you'll discover a dog gate on the stairs to keep him in his place." Bending down, he gently but firmly dragged the reluctant spaniel over to his right side. "Speaking of places, this is yours, Percy. Don't look at me like that! The lady is my wife, and I won't share her with you."
Percy hung his head. "There, you see!" Sandhurst declared to Micheline. "It's not you he's jealous of; it's me! Obviously the beast was hoping to steal you away from me. Edging in between us, indeed. If Percy aspires to become a true rogue, he'll have to adopt a more subtle approach."
Although Micheline laughed softly, she felt a twinge of sympathy for the dog. No doubt he was used to having his master's undivided attention, for it seemed unlikely that Sandhurst had brought many ladies all the way to Gloucestershire. Instinct told her that he had kept his more socially oriented life in London apart from the quieter existence at Sandhurst Manor. Already, that very day, Micheline had begun to detect aspects of his personality that she had not seen before. It was exciting to realize that she would share in every phase of his life.
Gesturing toward a wonderfully executed painting of a dark-haired lady, Micheline queried, "Is this your mother?"
"How did you know?"
"Well, it did seem logical, and there's a family resemblance. On the surface she looks like Cicely, but her eyes are yours exactly. Extraordinarily warm and compelling."
Sandhurst gazed at the portrait, for a moment seeming very far away. "Odd that you should mention Mother's eyes. She was a very proper lady, quite restrained, yet one learned to gauge her mood by looking at her eyes. When I painted this,