He gave me a questioning look.
“I need you to send a message to Mr. Northam.”
Daniel scoffed and turned to Alice. “Have you chosen something for me to read?”
“Please, Daniel,” I whispered. “Just tell him not to come.”
He looked back at me. “You don’t want him to come?”
I shook my head.
“Why not?”
I couldn’t have him guess the real reason. “There’s no point. And it would just cause awkwardness.”
Daniel nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I smiled my thanks. My attention slid to Lord Williams. He was watching me with his horrid blue eyes.
I straightened, retrieved my sewing, and didn’t look up again the rest of the evening.
Twelve
The next morning, I opened my door and peeked out. The hall was dark, the house silent except for the occasional sigh that country houses make. Grabbing my half-boots off the floor, I slipped out of my room and crept down the hall, my hand skimming the wall for balance, my other hand pressing the boots against the skirt of my walking dress to keep it from swishing. When the floor squeaked under my step, I yanked up my foot, tense, waiting. Nothing stirred. I slowly let out my breath and inched more carefully toward the stairs.
Five stairs down, I stopped, my hand clasped on the railing. I had forgotten to close my bedroom door.
Only my fear of waking someone kept the groan from escaping my lips. For one fleeting moment, I entertained the idea of going on anyway. But if that odious baron decided to take a self-guided tour of the house, I did not want him seeing into my bedchamber. Clenching my jaw, I slipped back up the stairs to my room.
When I had finally made it to the bottom of the staircase, I sat and laced up my boots. The brightening light crept though the windows, hurrying me. I wanted to catch the morning rays as they began their daily dance on the lake. I ached for a few moments alone, to escape into the silence of nature, into the solitude of non-human things.
A door clicked shut above me and I froze, but only silence echoed in my ears. Then I heard footsteps.
I fumbled through my last knot and raced out the door. As I stepped around the side of the house, light hit my face, stopping me. I breathed in the morning sun, willing it to diminish the shadows of yesterday’s misfortune. The crisp morning air, the sun warming my skin, and the ruckus of birdsong all filled me with resolution. Today I would find a way to be rid of the baron. I would start right after my walk.
I danced down the steps and ran my hand along the fencing when I passed under the arbor. As a girl, I had fantasized that the arbor led to a world of make-believe and magic and, once I was a little older, love. I used to spin through the paths and imagine a rainbow of fairies wreaking havoc in the shrubbery. Then I’d sit on the bench, tilt my head back, and watch the clouds drift away. It had been so easy to believe that anything was possible.
This morning the air recovered a bit of that magic, and I smiled. Tilting my head back, I closed my eyes and inhaled, the smell of childhood contained in the scents of the flowers and bushes around me. The lake would be beautiful this morning. I would have to hurry if I was—
“Excuse me, Miss Brinton. May I join you?”
The magic vanished. My eyes flew open and my breath whooshed out of me. I turned slowly, willing him to disappear before I saw him, praying he wasn’t really there.
But he was. The baron’s face was freshly shaved, his hair neatly combed. His clothes were immaculate but simple, after the same fashion as the day before with a dark green coat, lighter green vest, and tall black boots. He must have been up earlier than I, since I had merely dressed and wound my hair in a bun.
He could at least have had the decency to sleep in. “Do you always rise early after a long journey?”
“Generally. I find I accomplish more if I do.”
What did he hope to accomplish this morning?
“May I join you?” he asked again.
He couldn’t possibly join me. I was on my way to the lake, to regain a portion of the magic he’d destroyed. “I prefer to walk alone in the mornings.”
He nodded. “Company is another thing you find disagreeable?”
He would not win this battle. “Not at all, my lord. The company of friends is always agreeable, no matter the hour.”
He stepped next to me. “Will you not put aside your quarrel with me for a moment? While witty banter and veiled insults have their proper place, and you excel quite handsomely at both, I find myself without the ability to keep pace so early in the morning.”
Only he could offer an insult as a compliment in such a way that to refuse would appear ill-mannered. Fine. I would agree. It only meant that the opportunity to begin persuading him to leave had arrived early. However, there was no way I was going to walk all the way around the lake with him. A stroll around the garden would have to do. “If you wish.” I turned and moved onto one of the garden paths. He stepped beside me and adjusted his pace to mine.
After walking a bit in silence, he said, “This is a nice walk.”
Nice was not a word one should apply to nature. Exquisite, yes. Peaceful, definitely. A sanctuary from problems, a provider of hope—these were the things a person felt while walking outside. Nice was quite near to calling it ugly.
I turned onto a different path.
He didn’t miss a step. In fact, he kept so close his hand brushed mine. I clasped my hands behind me to avoid any more accidental brushing.
“It is on the small side,” he continued, “and quite formal for my taste, but it fits the house and property.”
I stopped. “I am sorry you find the small size of our house and estate straining. No doubt you are being deprived of many luxuries to which you are accustomed. My family is certain to understand if you wish to make an early departure. And as for this,” I continued, sweeping my hand in a wide arc to indicate the beauty around us, “it is perfect just the way it is, whatever your tastes may be.” I moved on, hoping rather than believing he wouldn’t follow.
He followed, resuming his place next to me. “I believe my tastes are considered refined.”
Was there no end to his arrogance? “No doubt a conclusion to which you alone so impartially arrived.”
“On the contrary, it is what I have been told.”
“By whom?”
“Single ladies seeking my attention. And their mothers.”
I stopped again, this time my mouth falling open in disbelief at his temerity. “It is a wonder you did not choose to ruin one of their lives instead of mine. It seems it would have suited everyone much more agreeably.”
“Not everyone.” His lips twitched and his eyes took on a teasing glint.
My own eyes narrowed. “Lord Williams, if it is your intent to mock me and insult my home, I would prefer to be left alone.”
He quirked an eyebrow and his lips relaxed into an easy grin. “You already mentioned you’d rather be alone. I suspect you feel that way whether I comment on your home or not. But I was not insulting it; on the contrary, I was complimenting it.”
“You have a very strange manner for complimenting.” He didn’t address my accusation about his mocking me, though, and I again felt as though I was no more to him than an entertaining way to pass time. I would not be his plaything. I would not bear his company a moment longer. Solitude inside was preferable to his company outside, no matter how stifling the house could be. I spun and headed in the other direction.