Claire closed the back door behind her. It was quicker to come into the kitchen when she’d been in the stable. The horses were all fed and blanketed against the London fog. The damp made for cold nights and, while she trusted Jeremy to care for the animals, she liked to make a last inspection herself. With sugar lumps in hand, of course; giving the horses a little treat never hurt.
She headed through the kitchen to the main stairwell. Gilbert called a greeting to her when he heard her footsteps. She wondered if he had stayed awake again to make sure she arrived home safely from Joseph Merrick’s little rooms in the London Hospital. At Dr. Treves’ suggestion, she’d become a regular visitor there.
“I’m home, mon ami,” she replied. She took off her warm cloak to reveal a simple , blue woolen walking suit. She unpinned her brown straw bonnet from her chestnut hair and hung both items on hooks near the door.
Gilbert came out to say his goodnights; the handsome majordomo leaned heavily on his walking stick as he stood in the doorway of his warm bedchamber just off of the kitchen. His eyes followed her as she went upstairs to her husband, and he cursed his cowardice yet again. He had loved her for years and never told her so. Even now, while he courted another woman – a good woman, he reminded himself – his heart stirred whenever he saw Claire’s blue eyes.
When Claire entered their scandalously shared bedroom, Erik looked up from his book. His green eyes missed little, and he could see how drawn Claire looked. Erik had many reasons to regret their move from France to England, and Claire’s misery topped the list.
Erik inserted a marker in his novel and placed it on the nightstand.
“My treasure,” he murmured, “Won’t you join me? The bed is warm.”
She sat down next to him and unbuttoned her gloves.
“I can think of nothing I would like better.” She kissed his perfect mouth and caressed his damaged face and black hair.
Erik seldom wore his mask when they were at home