The Baronet’s Bride
At sixteen, Cecy had married her childhood sweetheart, Frederick Dunn. Two weeks later, he’d been hit by a falling roof tile and she’d become a widow. Now, at twenty-five, she was a bride again.
It was the oddest feeling to be married again, a heady combination of emotions. Joy was predominant, a deliciously buoyant sensation that she’d felt from the moment Gareth had proposed, six days ago. Cecy had tried to conceal the joy from her employer. Lady Marchbank hadn’t liked joy or laughter or exuberance. Nor had she liked Cecy’s handing in her notice. “Deserting her,” in Lady Marchbank’s words. Cecy had hidden her happiness, creeping along the dark corridors of Creed Hall, enduring the scolds and the displeasure, counting down the days, hours, and minutes until Gareth re
