Now, as then, the bakery made the most delicious, mouthwatering cinnamon buns; Luc bought two while she chatted to Mrs. Trickett, who owned the shop and manned the counter. Mrs. Trickett had been quick with her congratulations, leaving little doubt that the fact of their marriage was widely known locally.
"Lovely to discover it was you, my lady, coming to be the new mistress of the Chase — well, it's almost like you were one of us already."
Returning Mrs. Trickett's beaming smile, Amelia made her farewells and let Luc lead her outside. Their eyes met as they went out of the door, but they only smiled and said nothing. If either of them had thought of it, they would have expected that reaction; she might not have lived hereabouts, but conversely she was no stranger.
They sat on a bench overlooking the green and gave their attention to the cinnamon buns.
"Hmm," Amelia eventually said, licking cinnamon sugar from her fingers. "Delicious. Every bit as good as they ever were."
"Not much changes around here." Luc had wolfed down his bun, then stretched out his long legs and leaned back.
She glanced at him and found his gaze on her fingertips, on her lips. Her smile deepening, she gave one finger a last, long lick. After a second, he blinked, then lifted his gaze to her eyes; she met it innocently. "Should we wander and meet more people?"
They'd already met the innkeeper and his wife, but there were others in the village it would be polite to acknowledge.
Luc's gaze shifted past her. "No need." Gracefully, he drew in his legs and sat up. "They're coming to meet us."
She turned and saw the vicar's wife bustling up. Rising, she and Luc exchanged pleasantries with Mrs. Tilby, then that good lady begged Amelia's support for the local almshouse.
"Lady Calverton — I mean the Dowager Lady Calverton — is our patroness, of course, and we hope she'll continue in that role for many years, but we would be honored if you would join us, too, your ladyship."
Amelia smiled. "Of course. Lady Calverton will be returning from London shortly. I'll accompany her to your next meeting."
The promise quite made Mrs. Tilby's day; she parted from them with flurries of farewells and an assurance she would pass their greetings on to her spouse. Finally leaving them, she paused to exchange nods with Squire Gingold, a large, bluff gentleman, before hurrying on her way.
Squire Gingold approached, eyes bright, a good-natured smile on his ruddy face. "Felicitations, m'dear." He bowed gallantly before Amelia; she smiled and bobbed a curtsy.
Turning to Luc, the Squire shook hands. "Always knew you weren't blind, m'boy."
Luc raised his brows. "After all these years of following my leads, so I would suppose."
The Squire laughed and asked after Luc's hounds. He and Luc shared numerous interests and responsibilities relating to the local hunt; Amelia wasn't surprised when their conversation veered in that direction.
She didn't have time to get bored. A carriage drew up outside the inn; its door opened and three young ladies tumbled out, shaking their skirts, unfurling their parasols. Their mother, descending more leisurely, gathered them up, then the flock descended.
That was only the beginning. In the next hour, simply by dint of standing on the green, Amelia found herself introduced to the majority of their neighbors. Or, more accurately, reintroduced, for she'd met all of them previously; indeed, thanks to the numerous house parties she'd attended over the years at the Chase, she was even more familiar with the local
gentry than she was with the villagers.
They all welcomed her warmly, familiarity lending an ease to the situation, making the wives even more eager to invite her to tea. She was a known quantity, one they found unthreatening.
When the impromptu gathering eventually dispersed, and she and Luc reclaimed their horses and mounted to ride home to the Chase for luncheon, Amelia noted his gaze resting on her. She caught his eye, smiled. "That went even more easily than I'd expected."
He hesitated, some thought, some consideration lurking in his dark eyes, then he wheeled his hunter. "Indeed. But now we'd better hurry."
She laughed. "Why? Are you hungry?"
Luc watched as she brought her mare alongside. "Ravenous," he ground out, then tapped his heels to his hunter's sides.
She fitted so well it was frightening. Fitted his household, fitted his life — fitted him. She was like a natural complement, a lock to his key.
He hadn't foreseen it — how could he have? It had never occurred to him that married life — their married life — would be like this.
A ridiculously easy slide into relaxed contentment.
They lunched; they had already fallen into an easy camaraderie. They already knew each other's likes and dislikes, were accustomed to each other's everyday habits. Although they didn't know each other completely — and that unknowing lent an edge, an uncertainty to an old family friendship converted into marriage — yet the familiarity, the ease… the simple comfort of being able, already, to expect and receive routine understanding…
He felt like he was being pulled into a whirlpool that was simply too good to be true.