Surrender to the Earl by Gayle Callen Page B

then—at least where land was concerned? From what she’d been told, the estate supported itself. There were dozens of tenants leasing good farmland. She didn’t care about wealth, as long as the manor and lands were thriving.
    It was Molly’s turn to sound dreamy. “It is a pretty place to live.”
    “And ours forever,” Audrey said.
    “Until you marry,” Molly pointed out. “And then perhaps you’ll live in a castle.”
    Audrey smiled stiffly, then turned toward Robert. “Thank you, my lord, for bringing us here.”
    “You’re welcome. I hope it is everything you wish.”
    There was a thread of . . . something in his voice, but she would allow nothing to spoil this day she’d dreamed of her whole life long. She was the mistress of her own household.
    “We’re pulling up to the entrance, miss. There’s no portico, but a lovely set of wide marble stairs leading up to an impressive door. Oh, it is opening! An older woman is standing there, and I confess, she looks confused.”
    “She’s wondering who her visitors are,” Audrey said. “She will be so surprised.” And not too disappointed, she hoped. She’d had no time to send word ahead that this little servant family was finally to have a mistress after several years.
    Audrey could barely wait while the coachman opened the door to let down the stairs, and Robert climbed out. She reached out for his hand, knew it would be there, and began to descend.
    “Does your pretty home have a name?” he asked softly.
    He knows how important this is to me, she realized. She gave him a smile. “Rose Cottage.”
    “A little more than a cottage, Audrey, but a lovely name.”
    More than a cottage, she thought, almost hugging herself. It could be four rooms or twenty—she didn’t care. It was all hers.
    “May I help you, milady?” said an unfamiliar voice. The woman sounded older, but respectful. “Are ye lost?”
    “No, I am not lost. I regret I could not inform you in advance, but I’m Mrs. Martin Blake, and I’ve come to take up residence.”
    There was a stark silence, and Audrey reminded herself that it was a shock. The woman was probably worrying about the state of the house, with bedrooms not aired and not enough foodstuffs in the pantry.
    “Are you Mrs. Sanford?” Audrey asked gently.
    The woman cleared her throat. “Aye, ma’am, I am. Do forgive me.”
    “May I present the Earl of Knightsbridge,” Audrey said.
    “Milord!” the woman said, sounding a bit breathless now.
    Had she curtsied? Audrey barely held back a smile, wondering if it had been difficult at her age, or if she was a spry woman. “Fear not, Mrs. Sanford, his lordship will not be a guest, since he lives nearby.”
    “He’s her betrothed,” Molly suddenly announced.
    There was another silence as the housekeeper took that in. Audrey imagined it changed everything about how the servants might treat her—and she didn’t like it. But she had no choice for now.
    “And this is my lady’s maid, Molly,” Audrey said dryly, “she who speaks before thinking.”
    “I’m sorry, miss,” Molly said, not sounding sorry at all. “Shall I lead you inside?”
    “Of course. Mrs. Sanford, you would soon realize it, but I find it’s only fair to inform you that I’m blind.”

Chapter 9
    R obert saw the astonishment that Mrs. Sanford could not momentarily hide, but then she merely nodded, realized her mistake, and said, “Aye, ma’am, thank you for tellin’ me.”
    He almost felt sorry for the woman. She’d received one shock after another. She was tall and robust, with gray hair pulled back in a simple bun, spectacles perched on her nose. She wore an apron tied at the waist of a plain black gown that did not quite hide her broad, working-class shoulders. Hopefully she kept house as if she always expected the mistress any moment, the way all competent servants should. They would soon find out.
    And could she cook? His stomach rumbled at the thought. Their dawn breakfast had been