Kay Springsteen (11 page)

“
A guest?
”

Annabella stared at the veritable feast as Abby set it out on the worktable next to a stack of fresh table linens. Roasted grouse lay heaped on a giant serving platter. Dark, crusty bread peeked from beneath its linen wrapping in a silver wire basket. Abby lifted the cover off one of the silver serving dishes to reveal asparagus tips smothered in creamy sauce. Why,
‘
twas enough for a king. For several kings, actually. It put the paltry meal of cheese and bread she planned to eat later to shame.

“
Yes, m
’
lady. His lordship asked for a proper dinner so
’
s he could entertain a guest tonight.
”
She glanced over her shoulder then lowered her voice and continued.
“
There
’
s talk
‘
e might be entertainin
’
a lady.
”
She set out two crystal decanters of wine.

“
A lady!
”
Annabella released a harsh laugh.
“
Where on earth would he find a lady to… entertain?
”
And why should she care? So long as she
didn
’
t have to serve the two of them… Wait.
Someone
would have to serve them.
“
Will… um, will Geoffrey be attending to them at this dinner?
”

“
No, m
’
lady.
”
Again Abby cast a fleeting look at the door from the kitchen.
“
He specifically requested no one be in attendance. That
’
s why the talk, you see.
”

Did Seabrook know someone in the country? Or had he met her on his foray into Haselmere?
Certainly, no shortage of eligible females existed, but Annabella couldn’t think of one who would attend a private dinner without a chaperone. Perhaps that explained the abundance of food, though, and the servants had it wrong.
“
Has he—
”
She cleared the hoarseness from her dry throat.
“
Has he dispatched a carriage to retrieve his guest
,
or do you suppose she
’
ll have a driver?
”

Abby
’
s face clouded over with her frown.
“
I can
’
t say, m
’
lady. Stephen heard talk about a carriage in the stable earlier, but that
’
s all I know.
”
She gathered the linens in her arms and hurried toward the door to the great room.

“
Stop!
”
Annabella
’
s heart thudded against her chest.
“
Where are you going?
”

Abby angled her head, a bemused expression on her face.
“
I need to set the dinner table, m
’
lady.
”

“
No!
”
The word slipped out of its own accord. Seabrook was somewhere about. Although he was undoubtedly aware his meals were being delivered, she didn
’
t want him seeing Abby, talking to her, asking questions…
“
I
’
ll see to the table.
”

Abby giggled.
“
M
’
lady?
”

Irritation flashed to the surface.
“
What? You think I cannot properly set a supper table? I
’
ve certainly eaten at one my entire life.
”
Annabella stalked across the room and stepped around Abby, blocking the entrance to the rest of the house.

“
Yes
—
I mean no, m
’
lady…
”
A visible tremor enveloped the maid.
“
That is…
”
With a sigh, she held out the linens.
“
The corners must be folded so they drape just so and don
’
t poke outward.
”

“
I shall figure it out.
”
Annabella grasped the table linens, surprised at their weight.

“
The ivory lace goes on top of the white cloth,
”
explained Abby.
“
Shall I set out the silver?
”
She gestured to the mahogany case sitting on the worktable.
“
Florrie was instructed to come early in the morning to clear the dinner.
”

Annabella blinked back her confusion and raised an eyebrow.
“
Florrie?
”

Pink suffused Abby
’
s cheeks.
“
One of the scullery maids, m
’
lady. She is to clear the meal and wash the dishes.
”

Setting the table for Seabrook and his guest was one thing. Clearing and washing his supper dishes was quite another. Annabella sighed.
“
Very well. Please ask her to come at first light.
”
With any luck, Seabrook wouldn
’
t awaken until much later and the scullery maid would be long gone.

She turned and opened the door, sparing a moment to peer cautiously into the great room. Late afternoon sun poured through the window and splashed across the blackened hearth. The worn furniture appeared even worse in the harsh light. Whomever Seabrook had invited certainly wouldn
’
t be impressed at the threadbare state of the chairs or the deep gouges in the oak tables. Would she seat herself in the chair with the cracked leg? Or would Seabrook command that honor? Annabella snickered. Either way, it seemed a pity she wouldn
’
t be there to see the chair collapse, sending its occupant to the floor. She swept her gaze around the rest of the room and eased out the breath she
’
d been holding.

All was quiet. No hulking figure loomed on the stairs or hovered by the sparkling window. She halted abruptly and stared at the glass that had once been dingy, coated with grimy soot. The heavy draperies had been drawn open, revealing the garden outside. The deep green of the trees contrasted against the brilliant blue of the sky. When had the streaks on the window been washed away?

Her eyes fell on the drum table. The wood had been polished until it gleamed. She glanced at the floor, seeking the footprints in the dust. Perhaps they would reveal who had been in there cleaning. But the planks had been swept. Who had been in the cottage?
When? True enough, she’d kept herself hidden in the kitchen but she’d not heard a sound. A shiver worked along her spine.

With her heart lodged in her throat, Annabella dropped the linens on the dining room table. Slowly, still staring at the changes in the tidied room, she backed away, and then turned and raced for the kitchen.

“
Abby! Who was he
re
…
?
”

The
maid was gone
. The silver
ware
case had been left open next to the meal waiting on the worktable.

Well, what did you expect? You did send her away.

Sighing, Annabella returned to the dining room.
“
This isn
’
t all that difficult, I suppose.
”
She fluffed open the tablecloth and laid it on the table. Far better than removing those dusty furniture draperies. She paused and looked across the room. Just as she might have expected, the haphazard pile of dust covers had disappeared.

A quiver rolled through her and settled in the pit of her stomach. She had to get out of there. But if she didn
’
t set up the dinner table as Abby had instructed, Seabrook might complain and Abby would be chastised.

Her hands shook as she spread the linen cloth over the table and righted the edges. The corners stuck out at odd angles
,
but Annabella didn
’
t take the time to fold them. Quickly, she threw the lace over the linen. Then she settled the long cloth over the side buffet and adjusted it. She
’
d been correct. It hardly took any effort at all. She was barely breathing hard as she hurried back to the kitchen for the dinnerware.

It took her only a couple of trips to set the table with fine china and silver. The pair of crystal candlesticks glistened in the light of the white tapers she
’
d lit at the kitchen fire. It took slightly longer to carry in the evening
’
s fare. She had no idea how to arrange it on the sideboard. Or perhaps she should have placed the dishes on the table? With no one to serve, that made the most sense.

She set the platter of grouse in the center of the table, followed that with the basket of bread. By the time she finished, the arrangement looked a bit clumsy, with the food spread slapdash over the top.

“
He
’
s got enough food here to serve six guests,
”
she muttered, straightening the corner of linen that kept flapping at her as she moved against it.

“
A splendid table you
’
ve set here, Annie.
”
Seabrook
’
s soft voice came from behind her.

Annabella stiffened then straightened and turned. He stood next to the hearth as though posed for a portrait, magnificent in gray trousers and Egyptian blue tailcoat. The gold buttons decorating the front of the coat glinted in the light of the tapers. Her breath caught at Seabrook
’
s sheer handsomeness. What would it feel like to push back that errant wave of hair that brushed across his forehead?

With measured movements, he plucked the tinderbox from the mantelpiece and then crouched and saw to lighting the fire. She couldn
’
t see his hands but the muscles in his broad shoulders bunched and glided beneath the blue wool. He didn
’
t stand again until a spectacular flame danced along the kindling.

With a jolt, Annabella realized she
’
d been staring at Seabrook
’
s back.

Seaside! You
’
re ogling Seaside
.

He turned and pinned her in his scrutiny. A mouse wouldn
’
t have felt nearly as helpless caught in the glare of a stalking cat. Swallowing hard, she willed her heart to stop racing — or, barring that, to stop altogether if it would relieve her of his rapacious gaze.

She pulled in a deep breath.
“
The food grows cold,
”
she squeezed past her frozen lips.
“
I fear if your guest waits much longer to arrive, it will be inedible.
”

Seabrook
’
s lips twitched
,
and for a moment
,
Annabella wondered if he was about to break into another of his horrid grins. Instead, his dark eyes glinted with merriment and his mouth turned gently upward. For the briefest of moments, she could almost see her father
’
s smile of indulgence.

The memory was such a shock, Annabella reeled backward. Lord Seabrook was nothing at all like her father. What ha
d driven
that
recollection to her mind? Throwing her hands behind her, she grasped the back of the tall dining chair and righted herself.

“
It appears my… guest… will not be making an appearance after all,
”
murmured Seabrook. His gaze warmed until he almost palpably caressed her, though he stood several feet distant. He flicked a glance at the table.
“
It seems a shame to allow such a splendid meal to go to waste. Will you join me?
”

Annabella
’
s heart stammered and rose to her throat, where its mad beating thr
eatened to pinch off her breath.
“
J-
join
you? For supper?
”

“
I
’
ve never particularly enjoyed dining alone. What say you, my lady fair?
”
He bowed, reaching out at the same time to capture her right hand.
“
Would you care to take supper with me?
”