"I must applaud Mrs. Jenny for handling all the housework," Mary said, slightly breathless as she moved swiftly through the rooms.
Last night, she'd assigned the maids to clean the guest room and even offered them a late dinner–which they had politely refused. Now, at dawn, she was determined to host breakfast and make sure the entire house sparkled before any guest awoke.
"A fine layer of dust on the vases," a deep voice remarked. "Does it hurt to clean just a little better?"
Mary froze mid-step, eyes wide. He's up?Mckenna's uncle?
He stood tall, sharp-eyed, scolding a young maid who shifted under his stare.
"I must have missed it, sir. I wasn't looking properly," she replied with a small bow. Then, as if his gruffness meant nothing, she glanced up and smiled brightly.
"Well, see that it's clean," he said.
He moved to another vase, inspecting it with a sharp gaze. Mary decided to step in.
"Good morning, sir," she greeted with a deep curtsy and a wide smile.
"Good morning, Mary," he replied flatly, eyes still scanning for the slightest trace of dust, ready to scold the maids again.
"Oh, no need to worry, sir. I'll take care of it," she said quickly. "Why don't you go upstairs and rest while I handle things here?"
Maxwell finally turned to her. His stare was hard, "I don't permit uncleanness."
"Of course," Mary said, voice slightly unsteady. "I'll make sure everything is spotless."
"Good." He walked past her.
The moment he did, something tight tugged in her chest. But she pushed the feeling down and quietly watched him move like a shadow through the door.
She turned to the maid, a small girl with short brown hair.
"I apologize, Lady Mary," the maid said with a bow. "I didn't realize he was the guest. I wasn't told when he arrived last night."
"It's alright," Mary said, waving it off. "Just focus on your duties."
"Thank you," the girl murmured, cheeks tinged pink.
"Do we have a house butler?"
"Only the head maidens and head servants," she replied.
Mary nodded. No wonder there was still dust, McKenna hadn't assigned anyone properly.
Just then, he walked into the room.
His dark hair was tousled, shirt half undone at the collar, exposing a glimpse of pale skin, and Mary couldn't look away. His dark gaze locked on her and didn't shift as he came closer.
"Good morning, McKenna," she said brightly.
He tilted his head, taking her in, from the shiny blue muffin dress that hugged her form, to her parted hair sweeping down one shoulder. His lips parted like he meant to speak, but he pressed them shut again, unsure what to say.
"Good morning, Beth," he said instead.
He walked past her to the parlor chair and sat down, watching the maidens hurry back and forth.
"Are we expecting guests?" he asked, a brow raised. "Or is there a secret ball I haven't been told about?"
Mary approached and took the side chair across from him. "We already have guests, McKenna, your uncle and your brother, remember?"
"Ah," he leaned back, arms folding over his chest, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. "So that's what all this scrubbing is for."
"Yes," Mary said, her cheeks warming. "I thought it would be nice to make their stay comfortable. I even asked the cook to prepare a lavish breakfast for them."
McKenna stared at her, puzzled. Her amber eyes blinked around the room, lips lifted in a wide smile. Why was she so happy? What about cleaning made her glow like that?
But strangely, it didn't annoy him. In fact, he couldn't stop looking.
"There's no need for breakfast, Mary," he said quickly, snapping out of whatever trance she'd cast over him.
"Why not?" Her smile faltered. She thought she'd done well in making the house feel warm and welcoming. Why was her husband against it? "Do you want them to think I'm a poor host?"
"No, not at all," he said, waving a hand, eyes widening at how flushed she looked. "It's just… my uncle hates breakfast. And Anthony left early this morning on an assignment. He won't be back until night."
She frowned. "What sort of assignment? And what man skips breakfast?"
McKenna shrugged. "One that probably isn't a man at all."
Mary's lips twisted into a scowl. She barely heard, nor registered McKenna's last words as she pressed on. "I've prepared all of this, and they won't even be here for it?"
"Well," he said, lifting a brow, "I'm here."
"That doesn't count. You must've scared them off." She shot him a glare. "You almost chased your uncle away, if I hadn't stepped in."
"Bethy, that was never my intention. He wanted to leave. You saw it yourself."
He frowned. It wasn't like it mattered what she thought–he never wasted time on baseless arguments. And yet… here he was, trying to make her understand that none of this was his fault. That he hadn't done anything wrong.
Her lips stayed in a pout, so much so that the sunlight spilling through the parlor window kissed them, leaving them glossy. His gaze lingered there longer than he meant to, until her voice drew it away.
"Well, I just hope this was their choice… and not because you pushed them away."
He nodded, unable to speak, his eyes still locked on her lips. When the silence stretched too long, he exhaled quietly and stood.
"Let's go have breakfast. Just us."
He walked toward her and extended a hand. She blinked up at him, surprised at first, then gently placed her hand in his. Together, they walked out.
This time at breakfast, though he barely ate, she smiled occasionally, content just knowing he ate something at all. She made sure to sit close to him.
Her mouth moved not just through biting foods, but also from chatting. And McKenna simply nodded, never interrupting, that alone filled her with quiet joy. She hadn't spoken this much in so long.
In that moment, she came to a small but comforting conclusion–his home, and his family, weren't so bad after all. The fear that had gripped her the night before had vanished.
Now, there was something else.
Curiosity. A warm, quiet interest blooming inside her. She wanted to know more about him, not all at once, of course. Not too suddenly. She didn't want to scare him away.
To the world, they were husband and wife. But deep inside, she knew the truth: he was the man who had come to save her. Like a knight in shining armor.
She giggled, stamping her feet on the cold ground like a happy child as she walked down the corridor after breakfast.
Every now and then, she rubbed her sleeves, a soft smile tugging at her lips, completely unaware of how flushed she looked, how much warmth danced around her.
The maids hurried to her side a few moments later and helped her out of her dress.
By midday, she was perched on her bed with a book in hand, her feet playfully dangling in the air as she giggled and flipped through the pages.
Time passed in quiet bliss.
When she finally closed the book and rose to return it to the shelves, everything changed.
A heavy sack dropped over her head, and a firm hand clamped around her waist.
And just as she gasped—
A low, breathy whisper grazed her ear, "Shhh…"