June awoke with a start to find light streaming in through the window. Instantly, she knew something wasn’t right. Her bed was too soft. The room was too quiet. Her body was too heavy, as though she had slept long and peacefully. The scents around her were wrong as well. Instead of the faint tang of male sweat and rubbish that she could never seem to banish, she smelled lemon and wood, soap and a hint of hops.

All at once, it hit her. She sucked in a sharp breath and sat bolt-upright. She wasn’t at home, she was in Ted Folley’s bed, at the pub. His room was neat and orderly, the walls and floor scrubbed clean and the few personal items on the washstand arranged in a straight line. The room’s two windows were open to let in the morning breeze, and the clean, white curtains fluttered gently.

June let out a groan as it all came back to her—from going to fetch her drunken father and brothers from the pub all the way to marrying Ted so that her father could pay off his bar tab. What was more, she remembered that, in a fit of pique, she’d gone along with the whole, ridiculous charade.

She shifted, swinging her legs to the side of Ted’s bed, and stood. Had she actually married him? She blinked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and stretching. They’d definitely stood in front of Rev. Goodall and gone through the motions of the wedding ceremony. She glanced down at her clothes, the same she’d worn the day before. Except for her shoes, which Ted must have removed for her after she’d fallen asleep, everything was intact, not a button undone. She wished she’d thought to at least take her corset off before falling asleep. She could feel bruises on her torso from where it had dug into her flesh during the night.

It was odd that she’d slept so well. Like the dead. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so deeply. Mostly because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been allowed to sleep. It’d been years since she’d woken on her own instead of being prodded or shouted awake by her father or brothers. They always needed something—food cooked, laundry washed, boots located. It was odd not to have something that needed doing the moment she opened her eyes.

Old habits died hard, so she busied herself making Ted’s bed as a way to push aside the grogginess of sleep. Wherever Ted was, he’d already straightened the side of the bed where he’d slept. It was far too easy to brush the rest of the bed into a smooth, tidy plane, pillows at the top, spare blanket folded at the bottom. Once that was finished, all she could do was stand at the foot of the bed, wondering what to do next.

“Ah, you’re up.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin as Ted stepped into the doorway. Instantly, she was on the alert, bristling and wary.

“I made the bed,” she said, half to prove she hadn’t been standing there idling and half to warn him that they wouldn’t be doing anything to muss the sheets.

Instead, Ted smiled. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

June blinked, stunned. His words barely made sense to her. Of course she had to do it. That was what she did. She worked.

“Here,” Ted said, walking into the room. June shifted out of his way, nerves bristling, ready to fight him off if she had to. But he walked right past her to the washstand. “You’re free to use this old thing, or you could wash up in the water-closet. I put a fresh rag here earlier, and there’s a bit of rose-scented soap that I only used once. It didn’t seem right for a man to go around smelling like a garden,” he said with a laugh.

June watched him, tense and wary. He was as nervous as she was, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t pull the rug out from under her and try something funny at any second. He seemed somehow bigger than usual with the two of them alone as they were. She didn’t think she could fight him off if he grabbed her.

“I was just about to head downstairs to fix breakfast,” he went on, crossing back to stand near her. She inched away. His smile turned uncertain. “The pub has a good-sized kitchen. The previous owner used to serve stew and things. I sometimes let my boarders have a crack at cooking for themselves.” He paused. “I asked them to find other accommodations this morning. The gentleman from Manchester has already packed up and left, and the one from York will be gone by luncheon. So you won’t feel uncomfortable and all.”

June’s brow inched up in surprise. That was the only reaction she could manage. No one ever concerned themselves with her comfort. Ever.

“I suppose you’ll want to head over to your father’s house to collect your belongings later,” Ted went on, shifting nervously from one foot to another. “But I guess you’ll have to wear the same clothes until we get a chance to go.”

“You don’t have to go with me,” she said, though what she wanted to tell him was that he didn’t have to be nice to her.

“It’s not a problem,” he said, smiling graciously. “Besides, I’d feel better about things if you didn’t go back there alone.” His face hardened and his eyes grew serious for a moment. But then his smile returned. “Right. I’ll just head back downstairs and get breakfast started. The stove should be warm by now.”

He nodded, then rushed from the room with a few, long strides. June could only stand there, staring at the empty doorway once he’d left. He hadn’t made any demands of her. He hadn’t put her to work or tossed her onto the bed to claim his husbandly rights. She shook her head in disbelief, then moved to shut the door and turn the lock, grateful it had one.

She stripped out of her clothes, washed as quickly as she could, then dressed again, still not believing where she was or what was going on. The quietness of the pub was almost unsettling, even though it was peaceful. She couldn’t get over how clean everything smelled or how tidy it was, even after she left the bedroom and headed downstairs. She would have expected a pub to reek of alcohol and look a mess, but as she crossed the hall at the bottom of the stairs, heading to the kitchen, she glanced into the public rooms and saw nothing but orderly tables with chairs stacked neatly on top, waiting for customers.

“That was quick,” Ted said as she stepped into the huge, homey kitchen. “I’m not even done with the bacon yet.”

June drew in a breath. Bacon had never smelled so good. The smell of it was pure, not mingled with the sludge of a stove that she could never get clean or the stink of chamber pots her brothers had left on the table for her to wash. Ted’s kitchen floor was nearly spotless. The floorboards looked as though they had been scrubbed with sand and soap. The metal of the stove was polished to a dull shine, and stones of the older, open fireplace were as clean as an old hearth could be.

“Do you like your eggs fried, boiled, or scrambled?” Ted asked, jarring her back to the present.

“However you want to make them,” she said. She wasn’t used to cooking what she wanted. She usually ate whatever her brothers didn’t finish.

“There’s already toast with butter and jam on the table.” Ted nodded to a large, solid, square table on one side of the kitchen.

June moved as if in a dream, taking a seat at the table. It was a magnificent thing, so thick and sturdy. She spread her hands across the surface, admiring how clean it was, just like everything else in Ted’s home. A rack of toast sat to one side, and, of all things, a jug of wildflowers. She stared at them, trying to remember the last time she’d seen flowers on the breakfast table. Not since her mother died, that was certain.

“I was thinking that I could show you around the pub once you’re fed and ready,” Ted said from the stove. “I’ve only owned it for a little less than two years, and I haven’t begun to make all the changes that I’ve wanted to.”

“Changes?” June asked.

“Little things,” Ted said with a nod. “I’d like to serve more than just the local beer and ale my predecessor served. I’ve already started serving some of my own brew, though I usually only make that for the summer festival contest.”

“Yes, I usually make a game pie,” June said, gazing around the kitchen in wonder. It was just so…so clean.

“I know all about your pies,” Ted grinned. “You win the top prize every year.”

June hummed in confirmation, barely paying attention. How did Ted keep such a big room so clean all on his own? Or did he expect her to do all the work now?

“Say, you could make pies to sell at the pub, if you’d like,” Ted said, shifting the bacon and eggs he’d been cooking onto a plate and bringing them to her.

Reality settled back in on June, and her suspicions rose once more. That’s what he wanted—a kitchen maid. “So it’s pies you’re after?” she asked as he set the plate of bacon and eggs in front of her.

He stood back, grinning proudly at the breakfast, then seemed to hear what she’d asked. “Oh.” He blinked, then shifted to sit across the table from her. “Only if you want to make them. I can think of something else if you don’t feel like it.”

June picked up a fork, but it hung in mid-air as she stared at him. “You don’t want me to make pies for you?”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “I didn’t say that. If you want to try your hand at cooking for the pub, then I’ll welcome it. But if you don’t want to, that’s fine too.”

“So….” She paused, frowning. “So you’re giving me a choice?”

Ted’s confused look flashed to alarm, then an awkward sort of pity mingled with understanding. “I promise you, June,” he said, reaching across the table to rest his hand over hers. “I promise you I’ll never make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

Prickles raced down June’s spine. She pulled her hand away, hiding the potential rudeness of her retreat by digging into the food in front of her. It was simple fare. Ted wasn’t much of a cook. The eggs were a tad underdone and the bacon was a bit crisp. But strangely, it was the most delicious breakfast she’d had in a long time.

Ted was silent for several minutes before saying, “I think I have an idea of how things have been for you.” His voice was low and tender. “I promise you, I won’t be like them. I’ll be a good husband to you, the best. I’ll never raise a hand to you, and I’ll try to never raise my voice. It takes a lot to rile me anyhow. I won’t ever make you work too hard, and I won’t keep you locked away in the house. And….” He paused, swallowing, pink coming to his cheeks. “And I won’t treat you disrespectfully or force myself on you in any way until you’re ready for it, even if we are married.”

A burst of embarrassment so strong that she wanted to sink through the floor and disappear hit June. She swallowed her eggs awkwardly, then reached for the cup of tea Ted had set out for her to wash it down. Ted Folley, the gangling, strange, incomprehensible boy who everyone in school had made fun of, and who half the men in town still treated like a buffoon, was promising her things. It felt as uncomfortable then as it had when they were kids and he’d ruined his coat in a mud puddle for her for no reason.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, then took another gulp of tea. There didn’t seem to be anything more to say.

And yet, that one simple word had Ted beaming from ear to ear. So much so that June didn’t have the heart to point out that the whole marriage in the middle of the night had been a farce and that no court of law would consider them truly married.

“You just finish up there,” he said, standing and striding back to the stove. “I already ate, so I’ll clean up, and when you’re done, we’ll take a look around.”

“I should be the one cleaning up,” she said, shoveling down a few more bites of bacon, then standing.

“No, no,” Ted stopped her, concern lining his face. “You finish your breakfast. I can take care of this.”

June sat, swallowing as she did. It felt odd to sit at a table doing nothing but eating while Ted busied himself doing all the things she usually did. Normally, the roles were reversed. She was the one scrambling to do three things at once while her father and brothers sat at the table idling or shouting orders at her. It didn’t seem right…and yet, a calm, settled sensation started to spread through her.

As soon as she finished her breakfast, she got up to help Ted finish tidying up. There wasn’t as much to do as she felt there should have been. She washed her dishes and Ted dried them. Once that was done, he showed her out to the pub’s two, large rooms and explained the clientele that favored each section of the pub and how he managed them. She was impressed by whomever had designed the pub to begin with, the way they’d situated the bar in the center, accessible to either room with a direct path to the kitchen and the cellar. Both parts of the pub were so organized that the mental list of chores she estimated ended up far shorter than she was used to.

“It will be nice to have someone to help keep the place in order,” Ted said at the end of his tour. “I have help, of course, but hiring men to serve drinks and a girl to come in to clean twice a week isn’t the same as having a true partner in the running of things.”

June couldn’t believe her ears. “A partner?”

“If you want to help out,” Ted rushed to say. “You don’t have to. Only, I thought it would give you something to do that would live up to your talents.”

“I have talents?”

She regretted the question as soon as she asked it.

“Of course you do,” Ted said. “Why, you’re intelligent, you’re a fast learner, you were always good with sums in school, and you’re quite personable when you aren’t being run ragged by your family.”

Another burst of awkwardness and guilt rushed through June. Ted had the wrong idea about her. She was none of those things. Well, she was a fair hand with sums. But she hadn’t been any of the rest of that since before her mother died.

She was just about to set him straight when there was a banging on the door.

“Let us in,” her father’s angry, muffled voice sounded through the thick oak of the door. “The joke’s over.”

Disappointment flooded June. She sent Ted an apologetic half-smile. “Thank you for breakfast, and for your kindness.”

“What are you talking about?” Ted asked, genuine confusion in his eyes.

He didn’t give her a chance to answer. Instead, he marched to the door, unlocked it, and threw it open. June’s father and brothers stumbled into the pub. June recoiled at the stench of stale alcohol, sweat, and sick.

“What are you doing here?” Ted demanded.

“June has to come home and cook our breakfast,” her father said.

“And do the laundry,” Chaz said.

“Can’t you even change your clothes on your own?” June asked, starting toward them with a frown. Her heart felt impossibly heavy.

Before she could take more than a few steps, Ted thrust out an arm to block her. “June is my wife now, and she isn’t going anywhere,” he told her father and brothers.

June froze. Something bright and aching squeezed in her chest. She glanced from her father’s perplexed look to Ted’s stalwart expression.

“She’s no wife of yours,” Wat grumbled, crossing his arms and attempting to pull himself up to an intimidating height. He wasn’t that tall and, unshaven, in his clothes from the day before, he didn’t appear at all intimidating.

“Rev. Goodall married us in the church and all,” Ted insisted. “You were there as witnesses.”

“The reverend said it wasn’t a true and legal marriage, though,” June’s father insisted. “Said it wouldn’t be unless he read the banns over three weeks.”

“Three weeks starting today,” Ted nodded. “And we all agreed we’d treat it as legal until then.”

“But…but who’s going to cook my breakfast?” Billy asked, still hovering on the other side of the door.

“You’ll have to cook it yourself,” Ted told them all, head held high.

“But we don’t know how to cook,” Wat growled. “That’s woman’s work.” He spat on Ted’s clean floor.

June was seized by the sudden urge to beat him into a pulp for the spiteful action, but before she could do more than open her mouth, Ted said, “You could always pay me the complete amount of your bar tab.”

Instantly, June’s father and brothers inched back, mumbling and shuffling their feet. “I told you then, I don’t have the money.”

“Then you don’t patronize my establishment.” Ted pushed them back, shooing them through the door.

“But that’s not fair,” Chaz whined. “It was just a joke. June is ours.”

“June is my wife,” Ted said, voice raised just a bit. “But she belongs to herself. She’s free to choose where she wants to be.”

“Then she should choose to be in the bosom of her family, with her own flesh and blood,” her father insisted.

“Yeah,” Billy agreed. “Come home, June.”

If any of the four, ragged men in front of her was going to compel her to go home, it would have been young, pathetic Billy. But when June looked at him, all she saw was the man-boy who should have known how to take care of himself but had never bothered to learn. All of the men of her family were shamefully incompetent. It was probably her fault, too. She should have put her foot down and made them fend for themselves. And yet, a small voice at the back of her head told her she’d never been given that chance. Until now.

“You were there last night,” she told them, crossing her arms. “You saw me marry Ted. He’s right, I’m his wife now.” Her gut tensed as though she were telling a horrible lie. “Go and look after yourselves for a while.”

“June,” her father implored. “You can’t do this to us.”

“Then you shouldn’t have sold me for the price of a bar tab,” she said. She glanced to Ted, who had managed to push all four of her kin out the door. “I’m done here. I have work to do in the kitchen.”

“Right,” Ted said, a triumphant grin tugging at his mouth. He turned to her father and brothers. “You heard her. She’s staying with me. And I swear to you, I’ll treat her with more kindness and more consideration every minute of every day than the lot of you have shown her in your entire lives. June will be safe with me, and she will be happy. I’d give my life for her to be happy.”

June had turned away and started for the kitchen, but Ted’s words held her to her spot. Her heart ached as though she’d been stabbed, and yet, it wasn’t a bad feeling. She twisted to glance over her shoulder at Ted, feeling out of her depth in so many ways. Ted was the last person on earth who she would have chosen to marry. She still couldn’t believe she’d landed in the situation she was in. And yet, a whisper of feeling deep inside of her hinted that, for better or for worse, whether she knew what to do about it or not, she was finally where she was meant to be.