Kay Springsteen (14 page)

****

Jon didn
’
t bother trying to remove the grin from his face as he returned to the bedroom t
o make himself decent. The silly chit had no idea what had gone on. Or in their case,
not
gone on.
It wasn
’
t supposed to go like that.
How had their conversation gone so far awry?

He righted his shirt and tucked it into his breeches, still chuckling as he recalled the look of rage in her eyes. Better that than the stark horror he
’
d seen in the mirror across from the bed when she
’
d first awakened and recognized her surroundings.

He frowned, leaning forward to peer into that mirror while he tied his cravat. The situation should have irritated him at the very least. Being accused of taking advantage of a woman who
’
d been in an inebriated state was far from flattering to his character. His grin widened. But he
’
d enjoyed the lady
’
s discomfort too much to defend himself. Still, he had to tell her the truth. With that course in mind, he exited the bedroom, ready to make amends with Annabella. The last thing he needed or wanted was to find himself shackled to such a harpy.

Although…
Jon found his steps faltering at t
he bottom of the stone staircase. His predicament loomed.
Perhaps…
Something crashed in the kitchen followed by muted words he could only assume were dreadful curses — likely directed at him in absentia.

The path to Annabella — and telling the truth — lay in front of him, but his eyes strayed to the door that led outside. Another crash came from the kitchen, then more curses, audible ones this time, accompanied by some explicit descriptions of the many ways she would torture him. The back of Jon
’
s neck began to tingle as chills
spiraled
down his spine.

Without a second glance toward the kitchen, he strode to the front door, his boots making precise clicks on the oak floor. Sometimes the wiser strategy was to retreat and regroup.

The balmy breeze that tickled his face made up for the gray spring sky. Streaks of red clawed their way upward from the
horizon
. No dark clouds
or
heavy gale-like winds. Still, something undefined hung in the air. A mood perhaps
, a feeling
. Jon shook it off and directed his steps toward the stables. A ride on Bertha would keep him out of the house — and out of Annabella
’
s way — and would have the added benefit of clearing his head.

Birds kept up a steady chirping in the bushes lining the path. Finches of some sort, from the sound of it. Gran would know the name. She could pretty nearly identify every hapless creature one of her feline pets preyed upon — living or dead, though by the time she saw them it was usually the latter.

Contemplation of Gran led to a reminder of his current family difficulties. What drove people to think they knew what was best for another?

Dwelling on it won
’
t change anything.
He should just put the troublesome matter of his inheritance from his mind the way he
’
d been doing for the past five years. He still had a
handful of months before his lack of an appropriate wife would nullify his own plans for the future.

Tiny white flowers fluttered as the birds darted in and out of the bushes. Blackberries, without a doubt. His mouth watered as he recalled picking berries with his brother and sisters on the estate in Coventry. Mayhap it was time to make the journey home. With or without the requisite wife.

Wife…
warmth radiated through him. He
’
d not intended on keeping Annabella company the whole night through. He didn
’
t e
ven recall anything beyond taking her into his embrace when she
’
d begun her inconsolable sobbing. Her words had made no sense — most had been incoherent. He
’
d been surprised at first light when he
’
d awakened to discover a winsome, curvy female in his arms.
Then realization had struck, but he
’
d been powerless to leave the bed — leave her — as he should have.

Why had that been? Certainly, she was lovely, but with that sharp tongue and tendency toward being disagreeable… A sudden frisson shook him, and he suff
ered a misstep, stumbling forward.
Best keep your mind out of that territory, Seabrook.

Crashing in the brush to his right jerked Jon from his musing. Deer? He paused to peer into the bushes but saw nothing. The crashing had stopped in any case.

But as he turned back to the path, a broken branch caught his eye. Wilted leaves quivered. There! The grass had been trodden down, and recently. And there! The soft dirt bore the distinct impression of a boot heel. A small boot heel, belonging to a child, perhaps.
Or to a woman.
He eased the branches aside, mindful of the thorns.

Thorns.

Annabella
’
s face had borne four light scratches on her left cheek. A number of the branches had grown sufficiently tall to have reached her face. So… not a cat as he
’
d suggested in jest, but… she
’
d battled with blackberry brambles?

No sign of movement, no sign that he was being followed. He studied the path
of
broken branches.

“
What would send Annabella here?
”

One of the finches scolded him. Jon shrugged and stepped through the tangled underbrush
,
onto the narrow path. The blackberry bushes close
d
around him immediately.

It was hard to fathom any reason Annabella would plunge through such dense undergrowth. But as he dodged yet another branch slapping out at his face, he knew with certainty she
’
d been there.

Why?

He did love the occasional mystery. Not to mention he could use the distraction from the awkward conversation he
’
d be having with the lady later. The path forked and he paused. Right or left? Which way had she gone? The track to the left was well-worn
with signs of broken branches, t
he
one
to the right not nearly as traveled. A single gray thread clung to one of the branches in that direction, though. Smiling, Jon unwound the thread from the blackberry thorn and tucked it into his pocket. Then he parted the bushes on the right and stepped through.

Gran would say the tiny glade was created by faeries — a faery gathering place of some sort. Had Annabella come there seeking solitude? He glanced around. Closed in on all sides by brambles and tall grass, and sheltered overhead by a leafy canopy formed of three
old
beech trees and an
ancient
oak, it certainly offered privacy.
A cluster of
boulders near the center of the space reminded him of a child
’
s nursery table and chairs.

He could see no evidence she
’
d been there beyond the gray thread
though
. Maybe she
’
d ducked in and then back out again.

The breeze shifted, whispered through the grass. The sound of babbling water enticed. Jon swept a last glance around the clearing. If Annabella had been there, she
’
d left no traces of what she
’
d done. Perhaps she had merely passed through.

He shoved a stubborn branch aside and found himself on the bank of a bubbling brook merrily tumbling and splashing over moss-covered rocks. A deer track followed alongside, and he stepped onto the path. Fairly soon, the brook widened into a sizeable pool. Dense bushes lined three sides and a grass-covered knoll trailed down to the water
’
s edge.

Sunshine slanted over the surface, splintering ripples into gold and silver reflections. On the other side of the pond, the road leading to Wyndham Green spooled between two green fields. Off to the right and a bit farther on, the gray stone spire of the parish church rose as if reaching for the sun. A boulder near the edge of the pool offered a resting place and Jon sat.

Perhaps this was where Annabella had come the day before. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of wildflowers. As the brook splattered its way into the pool, Jon considered how to approach her to inform her of her erroneous assumption regarding the previous night
’
s activities.

****

Annabella brushed at the tears that wouldn
’
t stop falling. She
’
d always imagined a loving husband and a wedding night filled with mystery and tenderness and affection. Not a night of wickedness she barely recalled. She grazed her cheek with the tips of her fingers. He
’
d touched her there. And on her shoulder. He
’
d carried her up the steps, too.

“
And I
let
him!
”
Renewed humiliation seared its way into her face.

Why couldn
’
t she remember the rest? She was ruined. Ruined! Taken advantage of by an insufferable rake — a man sent to Wyndham Green by Markwythe for who knew what nefarious purpose. And he
’
d used her and then had the effrontery to grin at her, to laugh at her discomfort in the light of day.

She tugged at the gray dress
,
and her face burned even hotter at the memory of him working the fastenings, pulling it over her head. And then he
’
d…

Annabella slumped against the worktable. He
’
d what?

Shifting her seat on the three-legged stool, she heaved a sigh. Why did she feel so little differen
ce
? Shouldn
’
t her journey into womanhood have made her feel more… womanly?

“
Perhaps if you
’
d been coherent for your journey you
would
feel differently,
”
she grumbled.

“
Beg pardon, m
’
lady?
”
asked Abby from the door.

Annabella jerked and then leapt to her feet.
“
N-nothing!
”
She blinked back her tears.
“
Er… I was just…
”
Images of the sparkling furniture and dusted floor floated into her mind.
“
I was curious as to who tidied up in here yesterday.
”

“
Lord Seabrook requested it, m
’
lady. Geoffrey sent Florrie.
”
Abby rolled her lower lip between her teeth.
“
Was something amiss?
”

“
No.
”
Annabella shook her head.
“
No, I was merely surprised.
”
She glanced at the basket on Abby
’
s arm.
“
Is that Se— Lord Seabrook
’
s breakfast?
”

“
It is, m
’
lady, though I seen as
‘
e isn
’
t here.
”

“
Not here?
”
When had he left?

Abby set the basket on the worktable.
“
I passed
‘
im on the way in but
‘
e didn
’
t see me.
”
She cleared her throat, perplexity reflected in her eyes.
“
Goin
’
into the woods
‘
e was… just off the path to the main house.
”

Annabella
’
s heart jumped into her throat and began a staccato pounding.
“
Th-the woods? Why would he go into the woods?
”

Abby took a step back from the table, keeping her eyes on Annabella.
“
I
’
m sure I don
’
t know, m-m
’
lady.
”

Right. Why would the maid know his reasons? Annabella forced her breathing to slow. She had no cause to believe he knew she
’
d hidden the case of banknotes. And they were hidden well. He
’
d never find them.

Or would he? Suddenly, she couldn
’
t wait for Abby to be gone so she could rush to her hiding place and check.