“I’m afraid,” he said, as they returned to the main chamber, “that Lestershall doesn’t run to separate bedrooms for husband and wife.” Lucinda glanced up at him. “Not, of course,” he continued imperturbably, “that that should concern you.”
Lucinda watched as he leaned a shoulder against the window frame. When he merely returned her expectant look with one of the blandest innocence, she humphed and turned her attention to the large, shrouded mound.
“It’s a four-poster,” she decided. She crossed to lift a corner of the dustcover and peer under. A dark cave lay before her. With thick, barley-sugar posts, the bed was fully canopied and draped with matching brocades. “It’s enormous.”
“Indeed.” Harry watched her absorption. “And has quite a history, too, if the tales one hears are true.”
Lucinda looked up from her study. “What tales?”
“Rumour has it the bed dates from Elizabethan times, as does the house. Apparently, all the brides brought back to the house have used it.”
Lucinda wrinkled her nose. “That’s hardly surprising.” She dropped the covers and dusted her hands.
Harry’s lips slowly curved. “Not in itself, perhaps.” He pushed away from the window and strolled to where Lucinda stood waiting. “But there are brass rings set into the headboard.” His brows rose; his expression turned pensive. “They quite excite the imagination.” Taking Lucinda’s arm, he turned her towards the door. “I must remember to show them to you sometime.”
Lucinda opened her mouth, then abruptly closed it. She allowed him to lead her back into the corridor. She was still considering the brass rings when they reached the end of the hall, having looked in on a set of unremarkable bedchambers along the way.
“These stairs lead to the attics. The nursery is there, as well as the Simpkins’s rooms.”
The nursery proved to take up one entire side of the commodious space beneath the rafters. The dormer windows were set low, just right for youngsters. The suite comprised five interconnecting rooms.
“Bedrooms for the head nurse and tutor on either end, bedrooms for their charges, male and female and this, of course, is the schoolroom.” Harry stood in the centre of the large room and looked around, a certain pride showing in his expression.
Lucinda eyed it consideringly. “These rooms are even larger, relatively speaking, than your bed.”
Harry raised his brows. “I had rather thought they would have need to be. I’m planning on having a large family.”
Lucinda stared into his clear green eyes—and wondered how he dared. “A large family?” she queried, refusing to retreat in disorder. “Taking after your father in that respect, too?” She held his gaze for an instant longer, then strolled to look out of a window. “Three boys, I assume, is your goal?”
Harry’s gaze followed her. “And three girls. To preserve a reasonable balance,” he added in reply to Lucinda’s surprised glance.
Annoyed at her reaction, and the fluttery feeling that had laid siege to her stomach, Lucinda snorted. And glanced about again. “Even with six, there’s room enough to spare.”
She had thought that would be the end of that particular conversation but the reprobate teasing her hadn’t finished.
“Ah—but I’d thought to leave sufficient space for the odd few who might not come in the correct order, if you take my meaning. Begetting boy or girl is such a random event, after all.”
Lucinda stared into impassive green eyes—and longed to ask if he was joking. But there was something in the subtle tension that held him that left the distinct impression he wasn’t.
Feeling a quiver—no longer odd but decidedly familiar—ripple through her, Lucinda decided she’d had enough. If he could talk about their children then he could put his mind to the first of the points that came before. She straightened and lifted her head, her gaze holding his.
“Harry—”
He shifted, turning to look out of the window. “Mrs Simpkins has our tea and scones waiting. Come—we can’t disappoint her.” With an innocent smile, he took Lucinda’s arm and turned her towards the door. “It’s nearly noon, too—I suspect we should get back immediately after our impromptu feast. We don’t want to be late getting on the road this afternoon.”
Lucinda stared at him in disbelief.
Harry smiled. “I know how much you’re looking forward to getting back to town—and waltzing in gentlemen’s arms.”
Frustration filled Lucinda, so intense it made her giddy. When Harry merely raised his brows, all mild and innocent, she narrowed her eyes and glared.
Harry’s lips twitched; he gestured to the door.
Lucinda drew in a deep, steadying breath. If she wasn’t a lady…
Setting her teeth against the urge to grind them, she slid her hand into the crook of his arm. Lips set in a thoroughly disapproving, not to say disgruntled line, she allowed him to lead her downstairs.