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She allowed him to help her to her feet. Placing her hand on his arm, she walked beside her husband to the next room where a table was set for eight. Lawks, only eight people to celebrate her wedding day. Eight.

Where were her friends and family? Shouldn’t Lias be there? She should be grateful…happy. But all she felt was loneliness.

Pippy stepped into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. Dropping her head back against it, she closed her eyes. It had been a taxing day.

Sucking in a breath, she slowly opened her eyes and looked around her new chambers. They were not grand, but neither were they dour. Indeed, the whole house was larger than she’d expected of a bachelor’s lodgings.

Her gaze paused on the doors on the far wall. She knew one led to her dressing room. But the other surely led to a shared sitting room connected to Lord Weymouth’s chambers.

She swallowed, and her face heated. But she pushed it away. They were the rooms of a married couple. And they were now married.

She breathed out a relieved sigh. Both doors were closed at present.

Moving farther into the room, she sat down at the dressing table, and pulled a pin from her hair. Her father had dismissed her maid the day after Lord Weymouth had asked for her hand. He claimed her husband would assign a new one once they were wed. Pippy had understood what it really meant—one less salary to pay. Pippy’s chest tightened thinking on her former maid.

But it seemed her father had been mistaken. Lord Weymouth had not assigned her a maid. Or at least not that she’d been told. But it was no matter. Her gown had few buttons. She could ready herself for bed.

She removed a few more pins, and her braid fell over her shoulder.

Pippy smiled at herself in the mirror, but it did not reach her eyes. “Come, Pippy. No more of that. This worked out better than you could have imagined.” It’s what her mother would have said to her.

It’s true she’d thought she’d marry in the parish church. Perhaps she’d even—when she allowed herself some indulgence—thought to marry for love. But the day could have been so much worse, given her family’s standing. The man occupying the adjoining room could be of a similar ilk to Mr. Rochester. But instead, she found herself married to a respectable gentleman of great fortune and title. What had she to regret? Her mother would be pleased, indeed.

While it had been taxing, much of the day had been lovely. His friends had been kind. And her new brother- and sister-in-law were all one could hope for.

For a man who’d rushed into the marriage, Lord Weymouth had been very attentive to details. The breakfast had been delicious and plentiful—which she couldn’t say for her father’s table of late.

Indeed, she could come to love such a man—she paused. Not that she would. Lord Weymouth had made it very clear he was not looking for romantic entanglements.

A knock sounded, and the door opened before she could respond. “Good evening, my lady.” A maid entered with her arms laden with paper-wrapped packages and bandboxes. “My name is Hilda. I’m to be your lady’s maid.”

Pippy smiled, her head tilting slightly to the side. Her father had been correct, after all. “Good evening, Hilda.”

Hilda set the packages on the bench at the end of the bed.

“Are you only engaged for service here in London?” Pippy asked as she eyed the boxes, not voicing her question about what they contained.

The maid shook her head. “Oh no, my lady. It’s my understanding I’m to travel to Yorkshire with you tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Pippy nodded. “That will be lovely. Thank you, Hilda.”

Hilda turned toward the door. “There are several more packages downstairs. I’ll fetch them, and then I’ll help you dress for bed?”

Pippy nodded, but halted the maid before she rounded the doorframe into the corridor. “Uh, Hilda?” She could not temper her curiosity any longer. “What is in the packages?”

Hilda shrugged. “I assume it’s clothes, my lady.”

Pippy stood up and ran a hand over the wrapper. “But I brought my clothes with me.”

Hilda looked confused. “These just came from the modiste.”

Pippy blinked. She should have known Hilda would not have any more information. “But I didn’t order any new clothes.” Had her father bought them? That seemed unlikely. But who else could it be?

A throat cleared behind her, and Pippy spun around to see Lord Weymouth standing in the doorway of their shared sitting room. “I know it was high-handed of me.” He grimaced. “But I ordered you some new gowns to take with us to the party. It’ll be cold in Yorkshire, and I worried you wouldn’t have anything warm enough.”

“I come from Cumberland, my lord. I have warm clothing. You need not have gone to the expense.” She lifted her chin as she protested.

He smiled. “Yes, I thought of that. But I believe it’s customary for the groom to buy his bride a new wardrobe. It’s some nonsense about proving I’m able to provide for you?” His eyes danced in the candlelight, but she couldn’t tell if he was mocking or simply happy. “I don’t wish to make your father regret giving his blessing.”