Kay Springsteen (22 page)
Authors: Something Like a Lady
Annabella squinted at the or
nate sculpted-stone columns framing the door.
BLACKMOOR
had been chiseled into the stone, centered above the entrance, and above that what she assumed was the family crest. Her family crest now, she supposed.
“
A wolf and a griffin?
”
She twisted around to c
apture Seabrook in her gaze and raised an eyebrow.
“
Which are you?
”
One corner of his mouth lifted.
“
Who says I have to be either?
”
Annabella lowered her eyes to avoid answering his quip or his smile.
Both, then.
One of the footmen accepted the reins, and Seabrook jumped from the carriage. Then he turned and extended his hand.
“
May I, Lady Seabrook?
”
Lady Seabrook.
Annabella stared at his hand. A pale doeskin glove stretched over his palm, so snug it might well have been his skin. Her heart stirred. Persist
ent quivering began in her middle. If she took his hand and stepped from the carriage…
She swallowed.
When I step from this carriage, I shall be admitting I
’
m his wife.
It hadn
’
t seemed real, had been more of a hindrance, some inconvenient circumstance to be dispensed with so she could move on with her life. Her gaze wandered to his shoulder, to his mouth where his lips still entertained a smile, and up to his eyes, which had softened and warmed.
Swallowing hard, she settled her hand into
his. When he closed his fingers
around hers, a shivered rippled outward from her middle and circled round to her back. Meeting Seabrook
’
s eyes, Annabella calmly stepped over the rim and out of the carriage, accepting his assistance — and her new life — with a murmured thank you.
Then her feet were on the ground and his gaze lingered along with his hand. Her knees weakened. Her heart fluttered like a tiny bird
’s wings
. She touched her tongue to her lips and
trembled when he caught his breath
. Seabrook shifted his stance
and
reach
ed
for her valise
on
the floor of the carriage.
Her attention drifted to the garden, where tall plumes of lavender and white flowers bent in the gentle breeze. Rising taller than two men put together sat a bronze statue, almond shaped eyes appearing to glint in the morning sunlight, one paw raised as though to capture the hapless human who walked beneath it.
“
Is that—
”
She leaned forward to look at the animal more closely. Her stomach squeezed. Anxiety coiled as she took in the long whip-like tail, poin
ted ears.
“
—a
cat?
”
Seabrook raised one dark eyebrow.
“
Yes.
”
Shudders rolled along Annabella
’
s spine.
“
I detest cats. Detest them! Hateful, arrogant little creatures, most ready to leap out and cause harm at the smallest opportunity.
”
She whirled around and pinned him with a hard stare.
“
Not unlike you, actually.
”
If her words about his character troubled him, he gave no indication, yet he stared into the garden without saying a word, and he appeared to have gone a bit pale.
She took pity on his obvious trepidation.
“
Oh, don
’
t worry, Seabrook. I
’
m not going to force you to take down the statue. Just as long as no living and breathing cats are underfoot, the bronze one can stay.
”
He jerked his head around to meet her eyes again.
“
Right. Of course.
”
Then he offered his arm.
“
Shall we go inside?
”
****
Icy shivers worked their way over Jon
’
s skin as he stepped across the threshold with Annabella on his arm. One never knew exactly what to expect on arrival at Blackmoor Hall. He nodded at Samuel, standing rigid as a stick just inside the entrance, gray hair perfectly combed, chin tucked, shoulders back. Was the black coat hanging a bit looser than the last time Jon had been at Blackmoor?
“
Welcome home, my lord,
”
said
the butler.
“
Thank you.
”
He drifted to a stop and glanced at Annabella.
“
This is Samuel. He
’
s been the butler for as long as I remember. Samuel, Lady Seabrook, my new wife.
”
Samuel
’
s quick blink was the only hint of surprise he was likely to show — at least within Jon
’
s presence.
“
At your service, Lady Seabrook,
”
Samuel
said
with a polite inclination of his head.
“
How does her grace fare today?
”
asked Jon, steeling himself for the answer.
Samuel sent a brief worried glance toward the salon.
“
She
’
s resting in her suite after a particularly…
active
mornin
g, my lord.
”
Jon released his pent-up breath.
“
Very well.
”
He nodded at the bags near the archway into the salon.
“
We shall need my suite opened and our luggage delivered there.
”
He stepped forward with the intent of placing Annabella
’
s small valise with the other bags.
“
Thank you, but I shall carry that one.
”
Glaring her defiance, Annabella nearly took his fingers when she snatched
it from him
.
As she hugged
the bag
close against her body, Jon held up his hands and stepped back. He nodded to the waiting footman, who gathered the
luggage
and hastened toward the servants
’
stairs.
“
Your rooms have already been opened, my lord,
”
informed Samuel.
Jon raised an eyebrow in question.
“
They have?
”
“
Yes, my lord. Her grace made the request two days ago, after she, ah…
”
He cleared his throat.
“
…became aware of your impending arrival.
”
Annabella stiffened and edged away, and Jon tempered his irritation, knowing how the exchange must have sounded to her. He hated what Gran referred to as
“
the sight.
”
Couldn
’
t bring himself to fully believe in it. Yet he couldn
’
t deny she often had an uncanny awareness of things she couldn
’
t possibly know, particularly as related to the comings and goings of family members.
“
Lady Seabrook requires a morning meal. Chocolate and pastries sent to my suite,
”
he instructed Samuel. Then he turned to Annabella.
“
This way, Lady Seabrook.
”
He didn
’
t bo
ther offering his elbow.
L
ikely
she wouldn’t take it anyway, given her reaction to
the butler
’
s inadvertent disclosure.
Upon entering the salon, her steps slowed as she craned her neck and looked around. Then she stopped altogether and twirled slowly, lifting her gaze toward the ornate sculptured
woodwork
, the cutouts above the intricate railing in the galley that rimmed the upper level, and the mural on the ceiling. Her wide eyes and slightly parted lips reminded him of exactly how much he
’
d taken the splendor of his home for granted throughout most of his life.
“
It
’
s astounding
.
”
Her gaze darted here and there as though unable to light on any one thing, and she absently slipped a hand through his arm.
Though her touch was light, Jon found himself acutely aware of the pressure as they crossed the salon and began to ascend the wide marble staircase. When they were midway up, he caught a movement near the
first landing and faltered. A flash of green reflected in the light from the sconces.
Blast!
He knew those eyes. The cat hated him, hated everyone but his grandmother, in fact, and went out of its way to make its opinions known.
Jon laid one hand on the
balustrade
and turned, angling his body so as to block Annabella
’
s progress up the steps. He swept a hand outward over the salon.
“
I used to stand here as a boy and look out on the room when Mother and Father were hosting dinner parties. Nicholas always watched from the galley, but I wanted to be as close to the action as possible without being discovered and sent off to bed.
”
Annabella tilted her head and blinked up at him, her lips hovering just at the edge of a shy smile, her green eyes — so similar to those of the feline he was trying to
avoid her
seeing — dancing with mirth.
“
So your tendency towards interloping began at an early age.
”
Jon chuckled
and risked a glance over Annabella
’
s shoulder. The wretched cat performed an acrobatic leap to the top of the railing and crouched there. Keeping a wary eye on him, she licked her paw several times and then brushed it over
one
ear. He tried glaring at her
,
but she simply stood and presented her back to
him
then hunkered down again and continued cleaning herself.
Unable to put it off any longer, he moved to Annabella
’
s other side, hoping to block her view of the galley to their right.
“
My suite is just along this way,
”
he said, pointing to the left.
From the corner of his vision, he caught the movement as the feline jumped from the railing and scampered in the opposite direction with a swish of her thick furry tail. Jon eased out
a
breath and picked up the pace, praying they
’
d reach his suite without any incidents. Thankfully, Gran
’
s pets didn
’
t tend to stray far from her wing of Blackmoor Hall unless they were following her.
He stole a glance at Annabella as they entered the suite, surprised to find her customary mutinous expression replaced with weariness etched in fine lines around her eyes. Perhaps he should have asked her whether she wanted nourishment or rest. He wasn
’
t used to taking the needs of another into consideration.
Sage green draperies had been left open, allowing diffuse morning light to spill across the plush blue carpet. Jon glanced around the room, appreciating the sharp differences from Wyndham Green, particularly when he recalled the state of the cottage Annabella had hidden in for days before his arrival.
“
Beg pardon, m
’
lord,
”
murmured
a soft voice from behind him.
He glanced back and gestured for the young maid to enter.
“
I was instructed to bring chocolate and pastries for you and Lady Seabrook.
”
She crossed the room and placed the heavily laden tray on the side table.
With deft movements,
she set about arranging plates and cups. Her hand hovered over the pot.
“
Shall I pour the chocolate, m
’
lord?
”
“
Please,
”
he
responded
absently.
“
And then you may take your leave.
”
Moments later, they were alone. At the soft click of the door closing behind the maid, Annabella gave a frightful start.
“
You should eat something,
”
Jon
motioned toward the table
where their meal had been
laid out
on a cloth of pale cream linen.
But she seemed to be disposed to continue standing in the center of the room. Where was his spiri
ted wife with her sharp tongue?
“
Blackberry tarts here.
”
His lips tugged into a smile, as he pictured once more how that bit of blackberry jam had clung to her bottom lip back at the cottage.
She didn
’
t move.
“
Or scones and Devonshire cream?
”
Just as he considered he might have to physically carry her to the table, she whirled about. Her eyes flashed with fury worthy of a vengeful angel.
“
When did you decide to bring me here?
”
Jon stared at the white silk wall covering
,
fighting
the urge to massage his temples. Showing any weakness wouldn
’
t do.
“
Yesterday,
”
he replied, keeping his voice even.
“
About five minutes after we were wed.
”
She narrowed her eyes until they were mere slits of dark, seething rage.
“
How sporting of you to have informed your
wife
of your decision,
”
she spat.
“
How was it your grandm
other knew we would arrive? Did you come to Wyndham Green with the intent of carrying me off?
”
Laughter burst from his lips at the ridiculous thought.
“
Madam, I can assure you, that thought was the very furthest from my mind.
”
He had no intention of explai
ning his grandmother
’
s uncanny abilities.
“
And I don
’
t believe anyone mentioned that
you
were expected at all.
”
She blinked and seemed to consider his words.
“
Then why bring me here? I
told
you I wanted to go to London.
”
Jon sighed and took his seat as Ann
abella stomped across the room. Likely the chandelier in the drawing room below was rocking back and forth. She unclasped her cloak and let it slide from her shoulders. The whisper of the fabric as it fell and her lithe movements as she caught the garment and tossed it across the gold brocade chair near the window evoked sensual thoughts that almost made Jon wish something
had
occurred between them.
Tell her the truth,
whispered his conscience.
“
I had business to tend to
here
, so I came
here
. You are my wif
e, so I brought you with me.
”
He snagged a blackberry pastry between thumb and forefinger and laid it on his plate.
“
And we didn
’
t immediately rush off to London because I need time to consider how to break the news to Grey that I
’
ve, er…
”
He lifted a shou
lder.
“
…married you.
”
Annabella stalked across the Turkish carpet and settled in the seat opposite him, placing that ever-present valise on the floor next to her feet. Leaning forward, she curled her lip in scorn.
“
No one
forced
you to marry me.
”
“
Now, there you are quite wrong, Lady Seabrook.
”
Jon leaned over the table so their faces were inches apart.
“
My sense of decency would have been offended had I not done so.
”
Particularly when he
’d
considered her alternative might be Vicar Hamilton.
She seemed frozen in place. Her warm breath fanned across his cheek. She was so close, so delectably within range to brush her mouth with his… The tip of her tongue peeked out briefly before she rolled her bottom lip inward.
