Hidden Affections (8 page)

Irene sat down next to her and filled her plate. “It’s no burden at all. We’re just short a pair of hands at the moment.”

Peggy frowned. “We wouldn’t be shorthanded if that silly goose, Jane, hadn’t run off to marry that nitwit who convinced her to travel west with him.”

Irene took the knife she was using to butter her dumplings and pointed it at the woman. “There’s no need to bother Miss Annabelle with such gossip. Or Mr. Harrison when he first arrives, either. Other than spending a weekend or two here occasionally, he hasn’t been back here to live for eight years, and I won’t have you or Alan start complaining. There’s time enough to tell him tomorrow, which I plan to do myself,” she said, taking firm command.

Annabelle was tempted to ask what had prompted Harrison to abandon this home to live in the city, but she was far too intimidated by the look on Irene’s face to say a word, even though the housekeeper was directing her glare at her staff. Instead, she polished off her entire plate, took a second helping, and finished that, too. She’d asked Mrs. Faye to purchase a diary for her to replace the one she had burned before leaving home, and she planned to add this scrumptious meal to the list of treasures she’d record for today.

Hopeful that the other items she had requested would also arrive soon, she nearly gasped when Irene took her plate and replaced it with a smaller plate filled with dessert. “I couldn’t possibly eat that piece of pie. It’s enormous!”

“Of course you can,” Irene countered. “Besides, it’s the only thing I know how to bake that tastes any good.”

Annabelle took one bite of the cinnamon-laced confection and sighed. “It’s heavenly. I highly doubt that anyone who can make a pie this good wouldn’t be able to bake anything to perfection.”

Alan chuckled. “Actually, Irene’s right. She can’t bake much of anything else. Not that I’m complaining,” he said before helping himself to a healthy serving of the pie.

Before he had a chance to take a single bite, the sound of a wagon pulling up in the outside yard had him leaping to his feet. He took one look out of the kitchen window and grinned. “Firewood’s finally here,” he explained and charged out of the kitchen, donning his coat as he hurried off.

He had no sooner closed the door when the sound of a distant bell echoed up the basement staircase. Irene answered Annabelle’s unspoken question with a smile. “That would be supplies coming from town. The bell they ring to let us know they’ve arrived has a different pitch,” she offered. “Peggy and I will need to take care of this. We’ll be a while, so if you get tired of waiting after you finish your pie, you might want to walk around the house and take stock of your new home. If you need me for any reason, I’ll be in that tunnel I showed you. The one that leads down to the river.” Then she followed Peggy down the steps to the basement.

After Annabelle finished her pie, she was so full she could barely move. Although she was curious about the second floor of the house, she did not feel comfortable wandering about and felt guilty that everyone else was busy while she had virtually nothing important to do. She took one glance around the kitchen, took note of the dirty dishes on the table and the pots and pans on the cookstove that had been set into the old walk-in hearth, and smiled.

She removed the clean apron hanging from a peg next to the water pump and put it on before she set a pot of water on the cookstove to heat and started tidying up. She was scraping the last platter clean when she heard footsteps coming up the basement staircase. “I thought you said it would take you a while. I hope you don’t mind, but I was feeling rather useless, so I thought I’d help by cleaning up from dinner. I’m not certain what you do with the scraps—”

“Annabelle, just exactly what do you think you’re doing?”

The sound of Harrison’s voice, though not stern, startled her so badly she dropped the platter, which broke into several pieces on the floor at her feet. “Harrison! I thought you weren’t going to arrive until much later.”

He shook his head. “I finished up my errands much faster than I expected, although I must admit to hurrying so I could make it out here before the worst of the snowstorm hit,” he explained as he stepped toward her. “Obviously, my unexpected arrival has proven to be more fortuitous than I thought it would be.”

“Oh?” she managed, surprised at how her pulse began to race when he approached her, his hair glistening with several snowflakes that had yet to melt.

“Apparently you and I need to have a talk.” His eyes sparkled with more humor than disapproval.

She swallowed hard. “A talk?” She dropped her gaze. “What about?”

“As my wife, I have certain expectations, certain wants and needs that I need to discuss with you. Privately, before my staff finds their way back here,” he added gently before retrieving her cape and handing it to her.

Her heart thudded in her chest, and she moistened her lips as she slipped into the cape. She did not know why or how he might possibly have had a change of heart about having their marriage annulled after meeting with his lawyer. But if he did and if he had any expectations that she might be interested in being anything other than his wife in name only, she was going to set him straight. Right here and right now.

Just as soon as she found her voice, which seemed to be just beyond her reach at the moment.

Experience, however, had taught Annabelle that a handsome, charming man, more often than not, led to one thing and one thing only: heartbreak.

And she was never, ever going to let that happen again.

Harrison had been pleased that Annabelle had not balked when he pressed her to keep their marriage a secret and to live quietly in a boardinghouse while he pursued an annulment. With that plan now eliminated, convincing her to play the role of a loving, dutiful wife both at home and at several social events they would be expected to attend offered an even greater challenge.

He could ill afford to antagonize her for fear she would simply walk right out of this house and disappear. He needed her, and her cooperation, at least until she signed the documents young Fennimore had drafted as well as the settlement agreement his usual attorney had prepared.

Pleased that his calming words had eased the uncertainty from her gaze while they traveled through the tunnel back to the main house, he led her up the curving staircase to the second floor and into the library. The room was as cold as all the others in the main house, and he made a mental note to talk to Irene and ask her why she had waited so long to order more firewood.

He closed the door to assure their privacy, and he was confident that he had the arsenal of weapons he needed to get her to do as he asked: money, jewels, and a charm that most women found irresistible.

He watched her as she moved directly past the desk in the center of the room, where a pair of gas lamps provided light. She stopped in front of one of the three walls lined with shelves of books that stretched from floor to ceiling. “When Irene mentioned the library, I had no idea there would be so many books here.”

“Do you like to read?” he asked as she worked her way down the length of the wall, studying the collection his grandfather had gathered here.

She nodded, then suddenly stopped and pointed to a thick book bound in rich, well-worn leather that stirred no memories for him. “Would I be able to take this one and keep it in my room, or must I read it here?”

He didn’t bother to check which book she had chosen and merely shrugged. “Whichever pleases you more.”

She took the book from the shelf and tucked it under her arm. “I think I’ll take it with me, since there isn’t a fireplace or warming stove in here, let alone any windows,” she noted and cocked her head. “I thought I saw several upstairs windows when I first arrived.”

“You did, but the library was built squarely in the center of the second floor for a reason. My grandfather designed the room as his refuge that was sacrosanct. When he was in residence, no one, not even the staff, was permitted into the room without his express permission, which is a tradition that remains in place today.”

“Did he like to read, or are all these books just for display?”

“I’ve been told he was well-read, but he also used the library to maintain extensive correspondence that demanded strict privacy. He slept here occasionally, as well.” He pulled a curtain aside to reveal a narrow bed tucked within the alcove before dropping it back into place.

“Have you read any of these books?”

“I have,” he replied, “but rather than analyze my taste in literature, we have much more important things to discuss.”

Her chin tilted up just a tad.

He pulled the chair out from the desk. “If you’ll take a seat, I have two legal documents for you to sign.” He walked around to the other side of the desk where he had placed the documents earlier and flashed her a reassuring smile.

“Are they part of your ‘expectations,’ ” she quipped, although she took her seat and placed the book she had selected on her lap.

“I suspect they’re yours, as well,” he murmured, then selected the most important of the two documents and opened it. “This is simply a recounting of the coercion used to force both of us to marry against our will. This may or may not be necessary in the end, but my lawyer agrees that it’s best to be overprepared.”

“I agree,” she said. “Did your lawyer give you any indication of how long it will take to obtain the annulment?”

He swallowed hard. He did not correct her assumption that it would be an annulment rather than a divorce; instead, he eased the concern in her gaze with the one truth he was prepared to share with her. “By the end of January, if not sooner.”

She offered him a tenuous smile of gratitude before she drew a deep breath, read the entire document carefully, and finally signed her name.

Pleased that she offered no argument, he set the document aside. He was prepared for quite a different reaction this time and used the same low, persuasive voice that usually convinced even the most hesitant young woman to trust him. “I truly hope you’ll sign this document,” he said and opened the second one, which provided a substantial sum to be paid to her annually on the anniversary of the yet-to-be determined date their marriage legally ended. His lawyer had cleverly worded it without using the term divorce.

While she skimmed the one-page document, a band of guilt wrapped around his conscience and squeezed hard. He could not explain exactly why he did not want to tell her that an annulment would be virtually impossible to obtain because of his reputation. Harrison recalled how upset she had been when he had first uttered the word
divorce,
and he realized now that he had been overconfident, if not arrogant, when he had promised her an annulment.

Only slightly assuaged, his conscience demanded he face the uncomfortable truth that he actually wanted to see her able to live out the rest of her life in comfort. In spite of the fact she spoke her mind far too often and chose to defy him when it suited her, he sensed she possessed an inner goodness that made her extremely vulnerable. He dismissed the notion he could protect her from troubles and heartbreak. Experience had been a cruel taskmaster in that regard, and he refused to let a woman like Annabelle tempt him to believe otherwise.

She stopped reading before she had finished the entire document and shook her head. “As you must recall, I told you that I don’t want a settlement.”

He nodded. “I do, but if you’d trouble yourself to read just a bit further, you’ll find that you retain the right to reject the annual stipend at any given time.”

She cocked her head. “Even before the first payment?”

He pointed to the final paragraph, turned his head to be able to read it, and read it aloud. “ ‘Any and all payments can be terminated anytime by the recipient by providing written notification to Mr. Harrison Graymoor or his designated legal representative.’ ”

Her eyes lit with hope. After reading the entire document, she signed it. “Is that all you wanted to discuss?”

He smiled before he walked around the desk to open a side drawer. He removed a narrow case he had stored there before traipsing out to the cottage to find her and set it on top of the desk. “As far as anyone is concerned, which includes Irene and the rest of the staff here as well as in the city, we’re legally married and intend to stay that way, which makes it very important for you to wear a wedding ring. Mrs. Wilshire may have been the first to ask about it, but she won’t be the last,” he cautioned and opened the case.

She gaped at the contents and clapped one hand to her heart, which was precisely the reaction he had hoped she would have. “Mercy! How . . . how many rings did you buy?”

He chuckled. “A dozen, but I didn’t buy them. Once you’ve made your selection, the rest will be returned. Since you weren’t with me, I couldn’t be certain of the size, so there’s an assortment of sizes, too. If there’s a ring you like that’s too large for your finger, I can have it resized.” He felt a bit awkward about the whole process, since he had never planned to buy a wedding ring for any woman. Not ever.

He glanced down at the sparkling precious jewels embedded in most of the rings, which paled when set against the amazement that lit her features. He was curious to see which ring she would pick, but he was not surprised when she selected a delicate braided band of gold and platinum and slid it onto her finger.

“It fits perfectly,” she whispered in a voice cracked with emotion. He assumed it was due to the fact that the ring was a visible reminder of the vows they had exchanged so unwillingly.

“You can remove the ring anytime you’re all alone in your room, if you prefer. Otherwise, I’ll expect you to wear it.”

She dropped her gaze and her hand slipped to her lap to rest on top of her book. “Of course.”

“I need you to select a second one. I’m afraid the ring you selected isn’t quite appropriate for a number of important social events we’ll be attending.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. “We will? But I thought you wanted to keep me out of sight. Isn’t that why you moved me all the way out here?”

He moistened his lips. “That was before we encountered Philip and his guests.”

“If you expect me to accompany you to these affairs, wouldn’t it be easier if we lived in the city? I don’t understand why you think it’s better to live here.”

He let out a long breath. “The women of Philadelphia will be most anxious to meet you and will be sending invitations to visit. Living out here will make it easier for you to decline. Graymoor Gardens is just far enough west of the city to make traveling back and forth very inconvenient, although the snow that’s falling will be helpful in that regard.”

She wrapped her hands around the book on her lap. “Won’t those women expect to be invited here?”

He chuckled. “Proper etiquette dictates that no one would dare call on Mrs. Harrison Graymoor without being invited first, regardless of where she’s living.”

She cocked her head. “Are you that important?”

“Sadly, yes. Now, as I was saying, the social events we’ll be attending are rather formal affairs, which means you’ll need to wear a ring that is more in keeping with your status as my wife,” he cautioned gently.

She hesitated for a moment and shrugged. “Which one would you prefer I wear?” She slid off the ring she had chosen and laid it on top of the desk.

He selected the ring he favored most, a unique combination of opals and diamonds set into a slim band of gold, and slipped it onto her finger. The diamonds reflected the green tint in the center of the opals that also matched the color of her eyes, but he was disappointed to see that the ring was too large for her. “I prefer this one, but if you dislike it and want another, or you hold with the new idea that opals bring bad luck, I have no objection if you want to choose another. Otherwise, I can have this ring remade to fit you properly.”

“No, if you like it, then it’s fine. Besides, anyone foolish enough to believe that luck determines life’s fate rather than God’s grace also believes that opals are only bad luck when they’re not the wearer’s birthstone. My birthday is in October, which means the opal is my birthstone,” she said. She placed the ring back into the case before slipping the original one she had chosen back onto her finger.

Smiling, he closed the case. “Then it’s settled,” he suggested. Pleased that he had been able to charm her into doing exactly what he wanted so far, he hoped she would be just as agreeable to the rest of what he had to say. “As my wife, I also have other expectations, which will make life easier for both of us if we’re going to convince everyone that we take our vows seriously,” he began.

She rose to her feet and tucked the book back under her arm, but he was so much taller than she was, her obvious attempt to create the illusion they were equal failed miserably. “Since we don’t love each other, which will obviously be more difficult for me to feign than it will be for you, given your experience misleading women in matters of the heart, I can only reasonably conclude that you expect me to both honor and obey you.”

He smiled, although he already knew that outmaneuvering this quick-witted, intelligent woman would require his constant attention, along with a fair bit of patience to tolerate her barbs. “I’d be satisfied if you’d simply honor my requests and not challenge me in front of anyone else, since you’ve already proven you’re quite open to doing precisely that while we’re alone. If I order something for you, such as a suitable wardrobe, you can’t countermand my instructions and reduce the wardrobe by more than half.”

Her eyes flashed with surprise that he already knew how her morning had transpired, but she held her tongue.

Emboldened, he continued. “I also don’t expect nor can I allow you to perform chores such as washing dishes. Or to take your meals with the staff.”

“What exactly would you like me to do with myself all day?” she asked, as if the prospect of having the day to spend as she pleased was distressing.

“You can read. Or you can knit, although I’d rather not be in your presence again when you have such sharp weapons in your hands.” He focused his gaze on the knitting stick at her waist that seemed to be part of her regular wardrobe.

Blushing, she waved off his suggestions. “But surely it wouldn’t hurt to do some sort of work. Although this house is half the size of the one in the city, it takes a great deal of work to keep it in order.”

“It’s not your place, and you’ll only confuse the staff if you do any of the work that’s been assigned to them. Whether we’re in the city proper or here, you also can’t treat members of my staff or any other as if they’re your friends. You can’t share gossip with them, you can’t trust them to keep a secret, and you can’t reassure them that you have any authority over them because you don’t. There’s a strict hierarchy among the staff, with either Mrs. Faye or Irene at the top, just below me. We have the final word on any matters concerning the staff.”