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cook. She knew the woman well. To be fair, she knew nearly everyone who frequented the village. But Mrs. Butterfield, like Madame Fleur, had always been particularly warm.

That made it easy to sit here now. She tried not to reflect on how she was far more comfortable in the kitchen than in the sitting room of this house. But as Mrs. Butterfield stirred, she looked over at Gabriella. “This weather has been unseasonably cold. Don’t you agree, my lady?”

Gabriella blinked. Mrs. Butterfield had called her Miss Gabby her entire life. “You don’t have to call me that, Mrs. Butterfield. We’ve always been informal.”

Mrs. Butterfield turned to look at her. “I do have to call you that. You’ve married a viscount who is a guest in this house. Not that I’m surprised you’ve done so well. But you might as well get used to the address here before you return to London with your new husband.”

The truth of the words made Gabriella shift. Would she ever feel like she really knew Austin? They’d made a great deal of progress, but still. “That’s true, I suppose. As we’ve been living in a one-bedroom cottage, he seems like any other man to me. Then I get glimpses into his real life and…” She liked Mrs. Butterfield, but perhaps she didn’t need to share her insecurities with another woman. It hadn’t gone all that well with Madame Fleur.

The cook straightened, giving Gabriella a speculative look. “Blackwater is an excellent employer, and his financial prospects are improving greatly, but if you believe below-stairs gossip, your husband is richer by far.”

Gabriella started. Was this true? How could she have not known this either? “He did mention several properties.”

The cook gave her a large smile. “You’ll be well cared for, my lady. Are you happy in the match?”

Gabriella blushed, thinking of what had transpired the night before and how he’d cared for her the last several days. “It’s so new, but I think so.”

“He’s been here for a few weeks and I can tell you that he’s been kind and polite with all the staff.”

Gabriella slumped in relief. Not that she was surprised by that admission. But it was always nice to hear confirmation of what she’d believed to be true. That she was getting to know the real man she’d married. “I’ve thought the same.”

Mrs. Butterfield stepped closer, her head bending forward. “I know he’s going to take you away soon, and so, before you go, I want to tell you something. Something I’ve considered sharing for years.”

Gabriella’s brow crinkled as her heart hammered in her chest. “What?”

Mrs. Butterfield moved even closer, her mouth dropping close to Gabriella’s ear. “There was a rumor, when you were born, that your father…” The older woman dropped her voice even lower. “Wasn’t actually your father.”

Gabriella gasped, and covered her mouth. “What?”

Mrs. Butterfield nodded. “Your mother had an affair with a lord who had come to visit the late Baron of Blackwater. I saw them together, so you can take my word as truth. But, as you’ve grown, you resemble him far more than your father.”

Tears pricked at her eyes. Did her father know of that affair? Is that why he’d been so coldly cruel his entire life?

“Who was the lord?” she whispered, her hands trembling as they rose to her face.

“The Marquess of Milton. Though, I understand he died some years ago.” Mrs. Butterfield squeezed her hands. “Don’t judge your mother. Your father, he was a cold, callous man and she just wished for some bit of affection.”

Gabriella gave a distracted nod even as her stomach turned. She’d never wanted to ask about her parents. She was afraid of the answers. And her mother never discussed her father or their marriage. She only talked of her life in Spain before the match.

Gabriella’s head swirled with all that Mrs. Butterfield had just shared. “Mrs. Butterfield, do you think there is a place I might lie down?”

“Of course,” she answered. “Lord Easterly is a guest here. Would you like to go to his room or the adjoining bedroom?”

“His room would be fine,” she murmured. Did she tell Austin what she’d learned today? She’d promised honesty, of course. But not only was she penniless, it was entirely possible that she was a bastard.

Chapter Thirteen

Austin left the barrister’s office, relief making his steps light. Not only had the man validated the marriage license and the proceedings, but he’d begun the paperwork to transfer a sum and the estate in Yorkshire to Gabriella’s name.

He’d spoken with Chad last night as well. In the event that something should happen to Austin, Chad would help Gabriella to oversee the funds and property, and provide additional protection against her father should she need it. He’d share all of this with Gabriella, of course. She needed to know she could turn to Abigail and Chad whenever necessary.

But the pieces were in place, which made him almost eager for his meeting with Mr. Winston. Whatever trick the man had up his sleeve, Austin was certain he could trump it.

He walked into the tavern at five minutes until the noon hour and sat toward the back. It was quarter past by the time Mr. Winston finally arrived, looking decidedly disheveled.

Austin’s smile was genuine as he stood to greet his father-in-law. This was going to be easier than he thought. “Mr. Winston.”

The man grunted. “No good morning?”

“It’s the afternoon, sir.”

Mr. Winston shook Austin’s hand, his soft hand decidedly clammy. “Is it?”

“It is. Shall we sit? I’m eager to see this business done and return to my wife.”

Mr. Winston grunted again, plopping down in a chair. “I’ll take some stew and an ale first. We must observe the civilities.”

Austin tried not to audibly groan. He had no desire to watch the other man eat and he didn’t intend to take a meal without Gabriella. “I’ve another appointment after this, sir, so you’ll have to discuss whatever it is you wish to address with me while you wait for your food.”

Mr. Winston

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