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Mother
hadn’t wanted her son to marry her. Perhaps the woman wasn’t mad.
“You may comb out my hair. I’ll remain in my room the rest of the
evening. I’ll have a dinner tray at six and pot of hot chocolate at
eight with two cups.”

    “Very good my
Lady.”

    Eve waited
until the door closed on the chamber maid before stretching with a
loud yawn. Her feet were sore from hours spent wandering around her
new home. Thankfully the fussy decorative clutter in the dining
room hadn’t spread to the rest of the house. There seemed an
endless number of pleasant rooms hinting at her husband’s
habits.

    Lord Latham’s
library had given the most solid evidence of the man’s personality.
His desk according to a brass plaque on the front of it had been
made from the timbers of some shipwreck. A large globe on the desk
was worn from handling. Three large map books on the floor were
open to various countries as if waiting to take a bored mind away
from England. His desk was a mountain of untidy piles of papers and
books. A man’s lorgnette for the opera and what looked like an
ordinary rock were being used as a paper weights. Seven open novels
in various stages of being read looked like they’d been thrown face
down, one on top of the other, as if the man couldn’t decide which
one to read and so decided he wouldn’t read any of them. An ancient
black and red Grecian dish contained an assortment of boiled
sweets. She sampled one as she opened a large book on Grecian
history and found the black ribbon marker was really an eye patch.
Closing the book she wondered how he could work in chaos. A white
feather flagged the location of the inkwell hidden behind several
black cravats and an emerald silk waistcoat that had been dropped
in disdain. Did he often work in his shirt sleeves?

    The desk drawer
told a similar tale. Untidy bills and crumpled letters all
addressed to ‘the honourable Earl of Latham’ floated freely among
piles of coins that must have been tossed into the drawer. She was
about to close the drawer when she noticed a stack of ladies
fashion magazines tucked away in the corner almost hidden under a
carefully arranged cravat. Why did her husband keep ladies
magazines hidden in his desk? The library shelves were equally
untidy with half read books shoved in-between souvenirs of life and
the odd article of clothing. Clearly the servants did nothing but
dust in the library. The view opposite the desk, out the large
floor to ceiling window, framed the prettiest part of the garden
like a living painting. It was difficult to imagine the owner of
such a room being evil. She’d appropriated the ladies magazines and
the bowl of boiled sweets and had them sent up to her room. If the
man loved her he wouldn’t care if she ate all his sweets. Her
rational fears swept from her mind, she decided she’d be quite
content to be Lady Latham and relaxed. She certainly couldn’t
imagine being bored.

    When the clock
chimed five-thirty she was sitting on the bed, her bare feet
resting on a silk wrapped hot water bottle. A lemon sweet taunted
her empty stomach with thoughts of her dinner tray as she perused
the fashion magazines. How much did her husband love her? Would he
buy her a new wardrobe? Her Mother’s dictated trousseau was filled
with uncomfortably low cut dresses. Eve paused as she heard what
sounded like a muffled sneeze. She leaned over and looked at the
wall. No it was still closed. She’d just sat back against the
pillows when three soft taps gave her warning. Her heart drummed a
cadence of suspense as she took a deep calming breath and told
herself to expect anything. Hopefully she’d get to eat before he
claimed his conjugal rights. “Come!” There was a poignant pause
before the secret door slid open and floorboards creaked toward the
bed. The half drawn bed curtain rustled. He’d come. “Good evening
my Lord.” She resisted the temptation to look and blindly chose
another sweet from the Grecian dish