The Dowager Countess (The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor Book 2) Sahara Kelly (book club recommendations TXT) 📖

He looked amused. “I may not have had a woman, Lady Gwyneth, but I understand the process quite well.”

“So it’s a matter of choice? Your choice?”

He sighed. “It’s…I suppose it is true to say the matter is somewhat complicated.”

She sighed too. “It always is.”

Chapter Twelve

Candlelight shone bright as Lady Gwyneth progressed slowly down the main stairs at Wolfbridge Manor.

“A lovely hall,” she commented, her eyes roaming over the tall ceiling, the tasteful wood panelling, and the statues, paintings and other decorations that had drifted to the walls over the centuries.

“The Manor does have a certain appeal,” answered Giles.

She had her arm linked through his, but was doing her best not to lean on him. After her bath, her restorative nap, and actually dressing in a simple chemise and robe—not traditional evening garb, but a step up from her nightgown—Gwyneth felt alive and aware, for the first time in longer than she could recall. Kilham Abbey was a blur, her late husband’s face difficult to summon, and her time at the Dower House an unpleasant memory she pushed aside.

Now, here, in Wolfbridge Manor, she was returning to life, to a new home and the people in it. The light from a doorway beckoned, and every step seemed to add a little more strength to her spine. Seeing the gentlemen already there waiting for her…it was a moment to relish. And cherish.

Their faces showed their pleasure at her presence downstairs with them, and that alone made her straighten her spine and raise her chin before returning their smiles. Gabriel moved forward, beaming, his delight obvious.

“Dinner is ready, my Lady,” he bowed. “You’re not quite up to sherry yet, so we anticipated your arrival, toasted your health and we may dine immediately.”

“Excellent.” Giles nodded and led her to the dining room.  “At last,” he said. “The Lady of Wolfbridge takes her seat.” He seated her at the head of the table as the others stood, waiting for her to settle.

“It is good to see you recovered, my Lady,” said Jeremy as he poured wine.

“And on Easter Sunday too,” remarked Royce, his eyes watchful. “There must be some parallel with the Resurrection, but I’m not sure what it might be.”

Giles rolled his eyes. “Lady Gwyneth, I trust you can excuse these jokesters. Since we are small in number, Evan will carve, and the rest of the time we make do with each other’s assistance.” He glanced down the table. “For example, Gabriel…please pass those potatoes.”

Gwyneth nodded. “I am so pleased to be able to join you. And although I have some idea of the house and grounds, I confess I’m eager to understand and learn more about my new home.”

“And I look forward to those conversations,” endorsed Giles. “There is much to understand, since we are different from most estates, not only in our founding principles, but in our structure and management.” He looked around. “And in the fact that we usually enjoy our meals together.”

Gwyneth smiled at Evan as he offered her a plate of lamb.

“Now I know it’s Easter,” she said, helping herself to a modest couple of slices. “And there will be mint sauce?”

“Of course.” He looked around. “Jeremy. Leave some for the rest of us.”

Jeremy shook his head. “Can’t. It is beyond delicious. I might replace my wine with this.” He gestured to the crystal decanter holding the liquid. Tiny green leaves flashed amidst the contents, and Gwyneth’s mouth watered at the remembered taste of the mint on her tongue.

“Take your time, Ma’am,” cautioned Royce. “You have yet to recover your full strength, and your ability to digest many foods. You’re well on the road to your former health, but there will be the occasional bump along the way.”

She nodded. “I do understand. Although that entire portion of my life seems more like a horrid nightmare than something that actually happened to me.” She cut a sliver of the lamb, dipped it in the mint sauce and ate, chewing slowly and with great relish.

“Jeremy, you and Royce attended Easter services, this morning. Was all well?” Giles poured himself some wine and passed the bottle to Evan.

“The church was full, of course,” replied Jeremy. “The sermon was just a few minutes short of being too long, and the children managed to fidget as silently as possible.” He grinned. “I felt for them. Those pews are hard.”

Royce nodded in agreement. “They are. But I think that’s deliberate. Keeps the congregation awake, since it’s damned difficult to fall asleep when one’s…er…backside is slowly turning numb.”

“There were enquiries, I suppose?” Giles shot him a quick glance.

“Indeed there were,” answered Royce. “But I passed them on to Jeremy.”

Jeremy grinned. “He did, too. But overall most people seemed pleased to know that the Lady of Wolfbridge was recovering well from her illness.” He turned to Gwyneth. “Your arrival occasioned great excitement and your health no little concern, my Lady. You must be aware that your position is held in high esteem hereabouts, so it is quite natural.”

“We let it be known that you were suffering from an ailment when you arrived, but have managed to spread the word of your recovery.”

“I see,” she said, taking a sip of water. She wasn’t entirely ready for wine yet. “So they do not know my identity?”

Gabriel, who sat on her left, reached out and touched her hand gently. “As I understand it, Lady Gwyneth, everybody knows you as the Lady of Wolfbridge. To them, that is the be-all and end-all of their conversation.”

“They really don’t care where you came from, it seems,” added Royce. “Very good-natured of ‘em, I’d say. But Gabriel’s right. To everyone around here you are their Lady.” His eyes turned to Giles. “Which begs the