She strained her eyes towards the shuttered windows. Soon it would be dawn. She thought she could already hear the servants stirring. This late in the year, they could not wait for daylight to begin their chores, especially as the first guests were to arrive soon. To her own surprise, Beth found she was not at all anxious about dealing with Jon’s friends, or even the Dowager’s. Beth had learned during her time with the Aubreys to handle all sorts of people, from the highest to the lowest. And in the weeks since her marriage, she had even begun to learn how to deal with her husband.

She smiled up into the darkness. She was beginning to understand him. A little. In public, he was the essence of the aristocrat-distant, austere, mindful of his duty, and polite to a fault. Some of it was assumed, though not his concern for his duty. He had inherited that from the old earl, who had valued duty and rank above all else. Beth fancied he had not been a loving father to Jon. There was no doubt, however, that even though the Dowager did not approve of her son’s choice of second wife, she did love Jon very much. For that alone, Beth would endure any insult that her mother-in-law might voice.

Beth shrugged against the pillows. There was precious little she could do to remedy the Dowager’s poor opinion. Jon had married Beth out of hand, without introducing her to anyone first. Had he been determined to have his ring on Beth’s finger before his mother could object to a penniless woman of no family? Had he-?

‘Oh, fiddlesticks!’ she said aloud. She was the Countess of Portbury now, and Jon was her husband. It was up to her to make this marriage work. And that included the task of running this vast mansion. Beth was sure she would have the measure of it soon. Somewhere in her past life, she imagined, she must have been taught the way of managing servants, for it came naturally enough. Beth fully intended to demonstrate just how much she had learned from the Dowager, too. If she could make Jon’s mother proud of her, it might ease the tension between them. She would make Jon proud of her, too, if she could.

If only he would stay with her at night. If only he would spend more time with her in the day. Sometimes, she was sure he was deliberately avoiding her company. But why? He did not come to her bed merely for the getting of an heir. Beth might have been an innocent before that astonishing night in the Fratcombe folly, but she could tell that the passion they shared was very special. Jon could not make love to a woman he did not esteem. His first wife had repelled him. With Beth, there was desire, and passion, and rapture for them both.

She laughed softly, remembering. Each time was different, and yet the same. He still explored her body with a sense of wonder, as if he were uncovering something magical. That reverence almost made up for being left to sleep alone.

Almost, but not quite. There must be a way to persuade him to stay, if only she could find it. If she continued to tease him, in private ways that only the two of them understood, he might eventually unbend.

Had his mother noticed that second of shock on his face when Beth had asked about a folly at Portbury? That tiny flicker of response had been utterly delicious. She hugged the memory to herself. Teasing him in public, ever so subtly, was the way to ensure he remained aware of his wife. All the time.

It was a good plan. And she would use it again. She had half expected to be well scolded once they were alone together, but Jon had been too concerned about her to do any such thing. He was a truly considerate man. And, heaven help her, she loved him to distraction! If only he-

She shook her head, vehemently. Jon did not love her. Perhaps he had never loved any woman? Perhaps he never could? She had seen precious few signs of attachment to anyone, or anything, apart from his duty. It would have to be enough that Beth loved him without reserve. One day, God willing, she would put a son into his arms and see him gazing down, with love, on a child of their joined flesh. Perhaps that would be enough.

In the meantime, she would do everything in her power to prove that she was fit to take her place by his side. Let the Dowager judge as she would. Beth was going to show Jon that she could be a worthy countess.

Chapter Fourteen

A fine carriage was bowling down the drive towards the house. Beth automatically took half a step back from her sitting room window, even though she knew that the passengers could not possibly see her up here. She did not know which guests these were, and she could not go downstairs to find out. The Dowager’s instructions had been absolute on the point. Her house guests expected to be shown to their bedchambers, so that they could refresh themselves and change their dress before they came down to greet their hostess.

Beth moved closer to the window in order to see down to the sweep where these first guests were about to alight. She had to stand on tiptoe and crane her neck to catch even a glimpse of what was happening.

As she stretched, warm breath shivered across her taut skin. The scent of horse and leather and warm man surrounded her, creating vivid, sensual pictures in her mind. Her body came alive instantly, tingling at the prospect of being touched. She felt herself softening, waiting.

‘Good morning, my lady,’ Jon said softly, his breath caressing the back of her neck. He was standing just behind her, almost kissing her skin with his words.

Beth took a deep breath, reminding herself sternly that Jon would not be feeling any of the excitement that was coursing through her veins. Outside her bedchamber, he was always perfectly correct and infuriatingly distant. She fixed a polite smile on her face and turned. ‘Good morning, my lord. I did not hear you come in. Did you enjoy your ride?’

Her movement forced him to take a step back. ‘I…’ There was something in his eyes, a hint of sparkling mischief, that Beth had not seen before, but his smile was as polite as her own. ‘Yes, it was splendid, thank you. The weather is remarkably fine for so late in the year. Indeed, you could-’ He stopped short.

Had he been going to ask Beth to ride with him? Her heart began to beat even faster.

A noise from below caught his attention. He ushered her closer to the window so that they could both see down. ‘Your first house guests, my dear.’ His voice was neutral, matter-of-fact. As it always was in public.

A small, rotund gentleman climbed down from the carriage, and turned to help an even smaller, rounder lady. They made for the door without waiting for the third passenger, a much younger lady who stepped down and stood for a moment, gazing round her. She was tall, but she lacked the elegance of movement that Beth always associated with tall ladies. In fact, there was even something a little awkward about her.

‘Sir James and Lady Rothbury, and Miss Rothbury,’ Jon murmured.

‘They have only the one daughter?’

‘Yes, but there is also a son. Rather wild. He declined the invitation. I will admit that I was glad to hear it. As it is, we must make do with the daughter who is not, I fear, the sharpest needle in the box.’

Beth stifled a shocked giggle. Goodness, he was becoming quite free with his opinions, even thought it was broad daylight and they were standing in the sitting room. Was this progress at last?

‘Look!’ Jon pointed down the long drive. In the distance, a second carriage could just be seen. ‘More guests, thank goodness. At least you will not have to entertain only the Rothburys, my dear. On their own, they can be something of a trial. They-’ He stopped to clear his throat. ‘Well now, if I am to help you to greet them all, I had better go and change my dress.’ He bowed slightly to Beth. ‘Excuse me. I shall be down to join you shortly.’ He strode through the door into his own bedchamber and closed it behind him. The confidences were at an end.

Beth hesitated for a moment. Should she wait for Jon? No, best to go downstairs so that she was already waiting in the drawing room when the first guests came down. The Rothburys might be the kind who could get changed in just a couple of shakes. It would not do for them, or for any of the guests, to find their hostess missing from her place.

She walked calmly into her bedchamber to check her appearance in front of the glass. Yes, she looked very well in her elegant silk morning gown. Jon had not commented upon it, but Beth knew the simple style suited her. Was that what had brought that stray sparkle to his eyes? Impossible to tell. She shook her head at her reflection, picked up her brightly patterned shawl and made her way along the corridor and down the sweeping staircase to the entrance hall.

Her timing was as wrong as could be. She arrived in the hallway just as the latest guests were shown into the house. How on earth had they arrived so quickly? They must have sprung their horses all the way down the drive. For a second, she stood stock still, horrified, searching for an avenue of escape. There was none.

‘My woman will direct the unloading of the luggage and- Oh!’ As the butler moved aside, the new arrival caught sight of Beth, marooned at the foot of the stairs. This rather gaunt lady lifted her chin, narrowed her eyes, and looked down a very long nose at Beth before dropping the smallest of curtsies. ‘Lady Portbury, I presume?’

Beth returned the newcomer’s tiny curtsy. She added a polite smile, too, since this unknown lady was her guest. ‘Welcome to Portbury Abbey, ma’am. I shall not attempt to detain you, for I am sure you will wish to rest after your journey. Goodrite will show you to your chamber.’

‘Thank you, my lady. We shall be-’ The newcomer frowned suddenly and pursed her lips. ‘How strange! Forgive me, ma’am, but have we met before? I was told not and yet… You seem familiar, somehow.’

It was all Beth could do to maintain a semblance of composure. Did this woman come from her past? If so, what did she know? Beth forced herself to glide forward a few steps and to smile condescendingly. ‘I think not, ma’am. I hope I should not have been so impolite as to have forgotten you if we had.’ She shook her head a little, to complete the effect.

‘Er…um, no. Of course not. Forgive me, I was clearly thinking of someone else. Pray excuse me, ma’am.’ She hurried towards the stairs.

Goodrite turned to one of the footmen. ‘Bring Mrs Berncastle’s valises to the yellow bedchamber,’ he said deliberately, ensuring that Beth would hear the lady’s name. ‘And be quick about it.’

Beth walked along the corridor to the morning room, trying not to look as though she were escaping. Berncastle. An unusual name, to be sure, but it seemed totally unfamiliar. Oh, why could she not remember? And what did Mrs Berncastle really know?

Quite possibly nothing at all, for where would Beth have met such a rich society lady? Beth had certainly been poor before she arrived in Fratcombe. Poor women did not mix with the likes of Mrs Berncastle.

Should she warn Jon? No, she would say nothing of this to anyone, for even if Mrs Berncastle had some lingering suspicions, she would never embarrass her hostess by giving the least hint. Such an insult could lead to a speedy departure for the guest in question, and a scandal, besides. Mrs Berncastle had come to enjoy a Christmas house party. She would never take the risk of being asked to leave.

Beth resolved to put the encounter behind her and to spend the rest of the day concentrating on welcoming more of her guests.

‘Your ladyship, I have such news!’ Hetty gasped the next morning. She dumped the ewer of hot water by the basin and turned, her face full of animation.

Beth straightened the wrapper over her nightrail and assumed a stern expression. ‘Do you mean news, Hetty, or gossip? You know that you are forbidden to spread gossip in this house.’

‘No, truly it is news, m’lady.’ Before Beth could say a word more, Hetty burst out, ‘His lordship has given notice to Mr Vernon.’

Beth tried to frown the girl down. What, after all, was so exciting about the departure of Jon’s top-lofty valet? Now that almost all the guests had arrived, Hetty should have better things to do. Beth certainly did.

‘But that is not the real news, m’lady. His lordship has sent for his old army batman to take Mr Vernon’s place. I’m told that her ladyship-his lordship’s lady mother, I mean-is fit to be tied.’

‘Now that,’ Beth said sternly, ‘is definitely gossip.’ It was, indeed, but Beth recognised that it was also likely to be true. She had found out that on Jon’s return from Spain, the Dowager had urged him to take on a top-o’-the-trees valet. Jon must have shared her view, for he had paid off his army batman, and engaged Vernon. It seemed that he had now changed his mind. But what did it mean?