Miss Barton’s Mysterious Husband by Anna Campbell @annacampbelloz @annacampbelloz.bsky.social #CinderellasOfMayfair

The Spotted Fox, Puddlebrook, Yorkshire, Christmas Eve 1818

“Come with me,” Charmian said to Roland over the din. “I’ll have to come down and help, but upstairs you’ll have a bed and some privacy at least.” She reached to pick up his valise.
“My wife doesn’t need to play the servant,” he growled. “I’m capable of carrying my own bag.”
She flushed a painful red. Because for most of the time that they’d been apart, she’d helped her aunt in the inn. Playing the servant, as Roland put it. He must wonder what madness had led him to marry someone little better than a scullery maid. It was a question she’d asked herself in the depths of many a night during the long, lonely hours when the answers that she came up with were entirely depressing.
“Then please follow me,” she said tight-lipped.
“Charmian, Sir Roland will be better off in the taproom,” her aunt said with barely hidden desperation.
Aunt Janet definitely wanted to keep them apart. Did she fear that this reunion would distress her niece? Of course it did, but it was past time that she and Roland discussed their future. That was never going to be easy.
“No, Aunt. He’s coming with me.” She collected a lamp from a side table and mounted the steps, not needing to check if Roland fell in behind her. From the moment they’d met, she’d felt a preternatural awareness of his presence. That, it seemed, hadn’t changed, despite their estrangement.
“She doesn’t like me,” Roland said.
“No, she doesn’t. For good reason.” Her aunt had been devastated when Charmian returned home, brokenhearted after her reckless marriage.
They continued up past two floors containing guest rooms to the attics. Only when Charmian pushed the door open did she wonder what Roland would make of her quarters. He was a rich man with a large manor house in Northamptonshire. Not that she’d ever seen Leeder Hall. They’d been on their honeymoon in York when they parted.
As he shut the door behind him, she set the lamp on a chest of drawers and folded her arms in a gesture that even she recognized as defensive. “It’s not what you’re used to.”
His lips quirked with the self-mockery that once she’d found so attractive. She still did, plague take him. “No gilded halls and silk upholstery?”
Charmian didn’t smile back. She was far too conscious of the fact that she and Roland hadn’t shared a closed space in years and this was a minuscule room containing a bed. “No.”
He set his bag on the floor and took off his coat, hanging it on a hook in the wall. He was a tall, lean man, and his head came near to brushing the low ceiling in the center of the room. He wouldn’t be able to stand straight at the sides, where the ceiling followed the roofline.
This was her first chance to look at him properly. He’d been a handsome young man. Dark-haired. Dark-eyed. With a flashing smile that stole her silly heart from the first.
Three years of maturity had only built on his attractions. The harder lines of his face lent him character as well as charm.
“It’s fine, Charmian. More than fine. I appreciate your generosity in sharing it. I’ll do better here than I would in a taproom crammed with snoring brutes.” He didn’t sound as confrontational as he had downstairs. Instead, he sounded as tired as she did. “Unless you snore these days?”
He was trying to put her at her ease. She should appreciate it. Meeting an estranged spouse was always going to be awkward.
“How would I know?” she asked sharply, before she kicked herself. Roland was quick enough to pick up on the implication that she’d slept alone since they’d separated, and she wasn’t ready to feed his vanity by revealing that she’d stayed faithful to her vows. “Did you come looking for me?”
“No, our meeting is a pleasant surprise.” She hid a wince at his sarcasm. “I had no idea you were in Yorkshire. I was on my way to visit a friend.”
Of course he hadn’t come looking for her. He never had. Although it perplexed her that he’d been so startled to see her. After all, he must know that she worked at the Spotted Fox. Unless he’d never even read her letters. Which was a very depressing thought indeed.
“I meant it when I said that we need to talk,” she said in a rush. “But the inn’s packed to the rafters and I have to help Aunt Janet.”
“You need to go downstairs.”
“Yes.” She gestured around the small room with its sloping roof and plain deal furniture. “It’s not fancy, but you should be warm and comfortable here. I’ll send John up with hot water. He’ll do the fire, too.”
Roland was removing his gray waistcoat. Only his loose shirt and buff breeches remained. He crossed the room to dip his hand in the jug of water standing by the unlit hearth. “He’s already got plenty to do. He doesn’t need to be hauling buckets of water up three flights of stairs for me. This will do for a quick wash, then I’ll come down and lend a hand.”
“That’s—”
“Beneath my dignity?”
The astringent edge to his humor was new. The young man she’d married had taken a sunny view of life. Too sunny, as it turned out, at least where his marriage was concerned.
She’d been about to say something along those lines, but another pair of helping hands would be useful, so she went for a less adversarial response. “That’s very kind of you.”
The look he sent her said that he doubted her sincerity.
“No, I mean it. We’re run off our feet. Thank you.” And she’d prefer to have him out of this room. Thinking of him waiting for her here, sleeping in her bed, handling her things, would torment her.
“It’s the least I can do.”
“You need to change into some dry clothes.”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “That almost sounds wifely.”
His sarcastic tone made her blush with chagrin. As if all the fault between them lay with her. Her voice hardened. “Then freeze, if you prefer. It’s your business. Not mine.”
His laugh was short and unamused. “Now you sound like you mean it.” He began to untie his neckcloth.
Charmian took a shocked second to realize that he meant to undress fully in front of her. Her cheeks heated, and she jerked her attention toward the window. “I’ll…I’ll see you downstairs.”
That evoked a derisive grunt. “Do you want me to save your maidenly blushes?”
“I’m not a maiden.” She braced her shoulders and glared at him. “Thanks to you.”
“I remember, but I wondered if you did, you’ve come over so coy. Don’t you remember what a naked man looks like?”
He tugged off his damp shirt to reveal a chest that had filled out from the slender man she recalled. Roland Destry had become a much more substantial presence since their last meeting. She suspected that these days he made an implacable enemy. The insight wasn’t welcome.
“I’ve tried to forget,” she said through stiff lips. Which was true, just as it was true that she’d failed miserably. Memories of Roland’s naked body had pursued her since their parting. When his hands lowered to the fastenings on his breeches, she pushed past him and out of the room, even if that gave him victory in their little war. “I’ll see you soon.”