Ted smiled as he rubbed down the countertops behind the bar a few days later. Everything had turned out perfectly. The world was just as it should be. He’d swept in, like the valiant knight he’d always wanted to be, rescued June from her peril, and settled her comfortably in the safety of the pub. She’d insisted that his boarder from York not be turned out, and when another man asked about accommodations for a few days, she’d decided that the extra money the pub would earn was more important than her having her own room. Which meant she continued to have to share a bed with him. Not that he would dream of touching her until after their marriage was official, but it was a good sign. His friend, Basil Wall—that was, Lord Waltham—had offered to collect June’s clothes from her father’s house for her, and Roger Lakes hadn’t had the backbone to give the newly-revealed earl a hard time. Everything was exactly as it should be, exactly as—

“What are you standing there gawping for?” June asked in a distracted voice as she brought a tray of freshly-washed pint glasses into the bar.

“Hmm?” Ted turned his dreamy smile toward her.

June set the tray on the counter, then flinched at the sight of his smile. Her brow furrowed, and she inched away from him. “What’s that look for?”

Ted’s smile faded. She had the look of a cornered animal in her eyes. “I was just thinking,” he said.

She took another step back and turned away, eyeing him sideways. “Oh.” Worry and uncertainty seemed to hang over her like a shroud. “Well, I’m going to give the floors out here another scrub.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Ted assured her. “You scrubbed them the day before yesterday.”

“Maybe they need scrubbing again,” she snapped.

Ted let out a breath through his nose. He didn’t understand why she had her defenses up so high. It was almost as though she were angry with him. But he hadn’t done anything but look out for her and seek to make sure she was comfortable and happy for the past three days. She still skittered around the pub as though he would start shouting at her, or worse, at any moment.

“You’re welcome to take a rest, if you’d like,” he said, stepping from the bar into the back room as June fetched a mop and bucket. “We could take a walk later.”

“No.” She shook her head. “After I’m done with the floors, I need to go to Crimpley’s Market.”

“Oh, I see.” A twist of disappointment weighed Ted down. He’d been hoping to go for a walk with June for days now, just to talk to her, but she kept herself so busy.

She must have thought his words meant something else. She snapped up to scowl at him. “You wanted me to start cooking for the pub, and if I’m going to do that, I’m going to need the proper things to cook.”

“I only meant that it would be nice if you wanted to make a few pies or pasties or the like, not that you have to.”

June let out a tight sigh as she carried the bucket and mop into the smaller of the pub’s common rooms. “I don’t have time for this. There’s work to be done.”

“All right.” Ted nodded, knotting the rag in his hands. “I’m…I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

She grimaced as she set the bucket down. “You’re not disturbing me,” she said without looking at him. “It’s just that…I don’t know.” She plunged the mop into the bucket, then dove into scrubbing the floor.

Ted stood where he was and watched her for a few more seconds, then headed back into the bar. His back itched with impatience, but he couldn’t put his finger on what that impatience was. Everything was as it should be. June was his wife—in a manner of speaking—after years of waiting and hoping and watching her sink into misery. She shouldn’t be miserable anymore.

As soon as the bar was tidied to his standards and June had finished mopping and disappeared to the kitchen, he headed into the front part of the pub to take chairs down from tables. The pub had never been in better condition. Roger Lakes and his sons hadn’t been in for the past few nights, which meant that things hadn’t gotten too rowdy. Ted could feel things changing, could envision the kind of establishment that he wanted to operate. With June by his side, he could serve a gentler clientele, act more as a restaurant than an alehouse.

But was June really by his side?

The question continued to haunt him, warring with his insistence that the fairytale of his life with June in it had finally reached its happily ever after, as he finished with the chairs and went to unlock the front door. A few men were already loitering around the door, ready to order a pint as a way to fight the summer heat.

“When is June going to start cooking for this place?” Martin Riggs asked, his face bright with eager anticipation, as Ted poured him a pint.

“Whenever she’s ready,” Ted answered with a polite smile.

“You stand to make a pretty penny with her in your kitchen,” Harris Proctor agreed with a wink. “Just like I’m sure you’re enjoying the benefits of a wife like that in other ways.”

Martin laughed and elbowed Harris. Ted frowned at both of them. He set two pint glasses on the counter with enough force to slosh beer across the clean surface. “I’ll thank you to keep your thoughts about my marriage to yourselves, gentlemen.”

“No harm meant,” Harris told him with a wink. “We all know how long you waited for your maiden fair.”

Ted forced himself to relax and not take offense. It was true. Everyone in Brynthwaite did know how long he’d pined for June. He wasn’t sure that entitled them to speculate. He also wasn’t sure if his rush to take offense had more to do with their nosiness or the fact that things weren’t as cozy between the sheets as he would have liked.

“Would you like me to put that on your tabs, gentlemen?” he asked. The only way to get through the rough patch was to focus on work.

“I’ll settle mine up today,” Harris said, reaching into his jacket pocket for his wallet.

It felt normal to pour pints and settle up bar tabs, but going through familiar motions only went so far to ease the restlessness in Ted’s gut. Work had always given him a sense of purpose, but with June marching in and out of the pub’s front rooms, always busy but rarely even looking at him, he wondered what his purpose was.

It was a relief when Andrew Noble stepped through the open front door and came to lean against the bar. “It’s a scorcher out there today,” he said with his usual, friendly smile. “Can I try some of your homebrew?”

“Absolutely.” Ted poured his friend a pint of the special beer he’d brewed himself in preparation for the summer festival. He watched Andrew as he took a few gulps.

He didn’t realize he was wearing a frown until Andrew finished his first few swallows and fixed Ted with a hard stare. “What’s the problem? You look as though your dog died.”

“I don’t have a dog,” Ted replied, then sighed. “But I do have a wife. In a manner of speaking.”

“Ah.” Andrew took another sip of beer and fixed him with a knowing grin. “Married life not all you thought it would be?”

“No,” Ted answered honestly, relieved that he wouldn’t have to explain. All of the questions that had been building inside of him for days burst out. “I don’t understand, Andrew. I rescued June from a bad situation. The conditions those Lakes men kept her in were horrific. But here, with me, she’s safe. I would never hit her or shout at her or make her do anything she doesn’t want to do. I won’t treat her like a drudge either.”

“But?” Andrew prompted.

“But she’s still not happy.”

“Ted, it’s only been, what? Three or four days, right?” Andrew said with a reassuring grin. “Give it some time.”

“But isn’t it obvious that her life has just improved ten times over? Surely, she sees that.”

Andrew chuckled. “What women see is beyond me. And if you ask me, they make things far more complex than we do. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” he rushed to add. “Take Aggie, for example.”

“Agatha Crimpley?” Ted asked, his brow shooting up in surprise. He thought he’d seen Andrew and Agatha spending more time together recently. Heaven knew what Robert Crimpley thought of his only child spending so much time with a black man, even if Andrew was one of the best people Ted knew.

“Aggie has a way of seeing things that never occurs to me until she points it out,” Andrew went on. “She knows how people are going to react before they do. She insists she’s never surprised by people, whereas I’m shocked on a daily basis by the things they do. I was shocked when I heard you and June had married.”

Ted sighed. “It’s not truly official for another week and a bit.”

“Even so,” Andrew said. “It happened suddenly. Give June some time to adjust to that. She’ll see what’s what. She’ll—”

Andrew stopped, his eyes going rounder for a moment as June marched through from the pub’s back room. She had a light, summer shawl over her shoulders, a small hat pinned to her head, and her reticule in hand, but it wasn’t until she’d walked all the way past Ted and Andrew toward the front door that she paused and glanced to them.

“Were you talking about me?” she asked, frowning.

“Only saying good things,” Ted insisted, even though it was a bit of a white lie.

June stared at him, her frown becoming confused, then darted a sideways look to Andrew. “I don’t like being talked about,” she said in a strangely quiet tone, then marched on through the door and out to the street.

Ted watched her as long as he could, then let out a breath. “See? I don’t know what she’s thinking. Not at all.”

Andrew reached across the bar to slap Ted’s shoulder. “No man ever knows what a woman is thinking, particularly his wife. Give it some time. That’s all you can do.”

“I suppose so,” Ted said. But he wished he could do more.

June marched across Main Street, barely missing being hit by a wagon speeding down the sloping road, and hurried on toward Crimpley’s Market. She dreaded going into the busy shop. She’d dreaded leaving the pub at all in the last few days. Every time she set foot outside on some errand or another, people stared at her. She was certain they were laughing to each other and coming up with all sorts of ideas of what Ted was doing with her behind closed doors. Ted Folley, the boy who had embarrassed her in front of the whole school more times than she could count. People were probably laughing at her for ending up with him at last.

Which wasn’t fair to Ted at all, of course. Especially when he was being so nice to her. She sighed as she pushed open the market’s door. She wished Ted would stop pretending to be nice and just get on with treating her the way that men treated women. The anticipation of the day when he would figure out that he didn’t have to pretend to be sweet to her and start making demands was worse than the demands would be.

“Good morning, Miss Lakes. Or should I be calling you Mrs. Folley now?” Tilly Wright asked from behind the shop’s counter as June picked up a basket to do her shopping.

“You can call me June, like you’ve always called me,” June snapped, heading for the back of the store. If she were honest, she didn’t know what she was. Most of her still considered the whole marriage a sham and a joke.

So why hadn’t she gone home? Why had she let Lord Waltham fetch her things if she didn’t believe her marriage to Ted was real?

She shook those thoughts from her head and focused on the shelves around her. If she was going to start cooking for Ted’s pub, she needed supplies. She could start simple, with sausages and mash, a few simple meat pies and stews, and see what sold well. She picked up a few vegetables, eggs, and some cheese as well for smaller dishes she planned to cook for Ted. For some harebrained reason, the man kept trying to cook for her. His skills were passable, but it rattled her nerves to see a man at the stove. She wished he’d just stick to the natural order of things, do what men were supposed to do, and meet the expectations she’d always had.

But what if those expectations were horrid?

She tutted at herself and pushed the stray thought to the back of her mind. That voice hadn’t left her alone for days. It kept whispering that maybe Ted was different, maybe the way she’d always lived wasn’t normal. She was loath to listen to a word that voice said in case it was wrong. The last thing she could afford was hope.

“Good morning, Mrs. Folley,” Aggie Crimpley greeted her with a grin and a wink as June turned the corner into the aisle holding fabric and sewing notions. Aggie was busy setting up a new display, but she set aside her work. “You’re looking remarkably well-rested.”

“If you’re going to tease me about going to bed with Ted, don’t,” June snapped, weary down to her bones.

Aggie bit her lips over her smile, but her eyes still glittered with mischief. “I take it the good people of Brynthwaite are being their usual selves and failing to stick to their own business?”

June sighed. “As if they ever would.”

“Well, don’t let them ruin your day,” Aggie said, unpacking a few more spools of ribbon from the crate by her side and arranging them on the shelf in front of her. “You do look well, though.”

June didn’t answer. She didn’t know what to say. “I’ve actually been able to sleep. He hasn’t tried anything funny,” she confessed to Aggie in a near whisper. “Yet.”

Aggie’s brow shot up. “Yet?”

“He is a man, after all,” June continued, even quieter. “It’s only a matter of time.” She frowned, leaning sloppily against the shelf, too agitated at heart to worry about proper posture and presentation.

Aggie turned away from her work. “Only a matter of time? Listen to you. I didn’t think you’d turned into that much of a cynic.”

“I’m not a cynic, I just know how men are,” June insisted. “I’ve lived with nothing but men for over ten years now. It’s exhausted me. And it’s banished any silly notions I might have had about chivalry. I just wish Ted….” Her words faded, and she clenched her jaw, glancing at the floor.

“You wish Ted what?” Aggie asked, moving to stand closer to her.

Aggie was one of the few women June could claim as a friend, even though their association was distant. But in that moment, she needed a friend. “I wish he’d just get it over with,” she whispered. “I wish he’d stop pretending to be so nice. Waiting for him to behave as men do is driving me to distraction.”

Aggie stared at her in shock. “Ted Folley is one of the nicest men in town,” she said, glancing around quickly to make sure no one else was listening in. “He always has been, since we were all in school. And he’s always adored you. I don’t think he’s putting on an act now.”

“All men put on acts to get what they want,” June sighed. Her heart wasn’t half as sure as her head seemed to be about the whole thing. In fact, the dread of being wrong, of underestimating Ted, was as painful as the idea that he was the same as everyone else. “I would feel so much better if he’d hoist himself on me tonight and end the waiting.”

Aggie’s lips twitched into a mischievous grin. “So what you’re saying is that you want Ted to ravish you like a pirate and have his wicked way with you as soon as possible?”

“No!” June’s face went hot. Worse still, a pulsing, tantalizing ache formed in the most embarrassing spots. And yet, as hard as she tried to push the image out of her head, she couldn’t shake off speculation of what Ted’s arms would feel like around her, what his kiss would be like, whether he was really as fit under his clothes as she thought he might be. “Absolutely not,” she said, pushing past Aggie and pretending to be fascinated with a display of sewing pins. “I just don’t like waiting for the worst to happen.”

“And what if the worst doesn’t happen?” Aggie asked, following June, still grinning. “What if Ted is every bit as nice as he seems?” She leaned closer and whispered, “What if he’s an excellent lover?”

June’s face went so hot that stepping outside into the summer heat would cool her off. “He’s Ted Folley,” she hissed. “Bumbling, awkward Ted Folley, who we all used to laugh at in the schoolyard.”

Aggie crossed her arms. “Are you going to let a bunch of foolish children who used to laugh at a boy because his arms and legs grew faster than the rest of him almost two decades ago and who thought having poor parents was something to sneer at stop you from being happy with a man who has made something of himself, who treats you well, and who is different from the men you’re used to in all the best ways?”

June lowered her head, her guilt palpable. “I don’t know that he’s really like that. He’s probably as bad as Wat and the rest of my brothers.”

“You’re not being fair.”

June snapped her head up, but she didn’t want to argue with Aggie after all. Because she had an uncomfortable feeling Aggie was right. Ted might just be as good as he appeared to be. But if he was, then she certainly didn’t deserve him.

“Give it some time,” Aggie said, losing her scolding attitude and smiling at June like a friend. “You’ve only been married a few days.”

“We might not really be married at all,” June said. “The banns haven’t finished being read.”

“Then give it until the banns are finished being read,” Aggie said. “Although once a girl agrees to marry a man, it might as well be legal unless there’s a real reason for it not to be.”

“I know,” June sighed. “I haven’t gone home to Dad’s house yet in any case.”

“Don’t!” Aggie said, horrified. “That’s the last thing you want to do. I know they’re your kin and all, but frankly, I don’t trust any of those men not to do something horrible.”

Part of June thought she should defend her father and brothers, but she couldn’t. She didn’t just think they’d do something rotten, she knew they would.

“All right,” she sighed at last. “I’ll stay with Ted at the pub at least until the banns are finished being read. Then I’ll decide whether or not to go through with another ceremony to make it legal. In the meantime, does the pub have an account with the store? I’m going to need a lot more than this lot if I’m going to cook food to sell.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Aggie smiled, gesturing for June to follow her to the front of the store. “If you’re cooking at the pub, even I’d brave coming there to eat.”

June managed a half-smile at the compliment, but it would take far more than an appreciative audience for her cooking to make her feel comfortable in her awkward marriage to Ted.