29. Chapter 29
Rather than take the time to saddle two horses and risk any difficulty finding a proper place to tie them off in the village, Annabelle and Caroline decided to walk.
It would take slightly longer this way, and Annabelle did enjoy riding more than most any other pastime, but in this instance, walking seemed preferable.
It would give her more time with Caroline, and she did so enjoy the woman’s company.
Not to mention, conversing would be easier on foot. Caroline had such a gift for storytelling and for bringing the past—hers, Harrison’s, Sterling’s, and that of their entire family—to life. The more Annabelle heard, the more she wanted to hear. She’d never laughed so much in her life.
In truth, she’d never had many friends. Her mother might not have discouraged her from developing them, but she made no secret of her belief that Annabelle should concentrate on making herself appealing to members of the male persuasion rather than waste time on nonessential relationships.
As they picked their way down the gravel path, bypassing small, colorful cottages, the priory ruins on the shoreline spread out below them, picturesque and austere.
To the left of the ruins, the wharf, if it could be called that, was decidedly less so.
More a landing place, really, than an actual harbor, the area boasted several upturned boats, cast-off ropes and nets, a donkey and cart here, a handful of men, there.
As for the boats on the water—fishing boats and cobles—she ignored those altogether.
“Are you as close with Harrison as you are with Sterling?” Annabelle asked after Caroline shared an amusing anecdote detailing a recent foible involving her younger brother, whereby he accidentally knocked out a friend—twice—while a guest at a house party.
“I adore Harrison. Sterling does, too. He’s often proclaimed that Harrison inherited more of the family brains than the two of us combined, but has no understanding of the physical world around him. He’s like a bull in a china shop, leaving damage in his wake.”
“Never say so.”
“Indeed. Enough that Sterling feels compelled to warn any who travel with him to take care lest they find themselves absent an eye or a limb by journey’s end.”
They rounded a corner and beheld Main Street, and a scattering of patrons intent on their endeavors.
At a glance, Annabelle took in the notable sparsity of shops. No bookstores or artisan vendors or mapmakers to speak of. Several smelly fish markets, a feed store, an ironmonger’s shop, and a general store comprised the lot.
“It looks as if the general store will have to suffice,” Caroline suggested with an apologetic grimace. “Shall we?”
Annabelle nodded. “One never knows.”
The doorbell jangled as they entered. Annabelle strolled up and down each aisle, hands linked behind her back as Caroline awaited her near the entrance.
There really was nothing in the way of gifts.
Unless…might she combine a few small items in such a way that Sterling might find her offering touching rather than paltry?
Undecided, she gathered her items, paid the shopkeeper, then rejoined Caroline.
“You found something?”
Shyness over the possibility the woman would find her idea ridiculous made her reticent to share. “Perhaps. Shall we start back?”
To Annabelle’s relief, though Caroline’s eyes gleamed with curiosity, she did not press. She seemed to understand.
Her sister-in-law seemed to understand many things. No wonder Gaston had been keen to marry her.
But why had she agreed to marry him?
The uncharitable thought should have caused her chagrin. Gaston had been her only brother—and he’d died an untimely, suspicious death. And yet, in her heart, she could not deny the implausibility of Caroline, as she now knew her, married to Gaston.
He had been, without question, extremely handsome, with charm to spare—depending upon what was in it for him. And at the start of their courtship, at least within Annabelle’s hearing, he had acted the gallant knight toward Caroline. But later, an occasional sharpness crept into his tone.
As they plodded up the cobbled walk, arm in arm by unspoken agreement, she slanted Caroline a considering look.
“Caroline, about my brother…” she began.
Caroline tensed in an instant. “What about him?”
“He was very handsome.”
Something that might have been relief crossed the other woman’s face. “He was. Very handsome. Your family, in particular, boasts extreme good looks.”
She bit her lower lip. She had not been seeking assurance in that regard. “That is kind of you to say. The thing is, I was wondering, was he very—”
“Lady Woodville, is that you? I say, it is you,” came a warm masculine voice.
Annabelle looked up in time to see a man darting across the street toward them.
After a moment, she recognized him as the nobleman she’d met that first day.
The one who’d arrived unannounced and interrupted her meeting with Sterling.
The one to whom she’d been introduced under the guise of her fake persona.
She almost groaned. She had not shared with Caroline her use of a fake name. She saw no way to do so now without also revealing her previous deception to Lord Vane.
She met Caroline’s confused gaze, sent a brief, silent-speaking message with her eyes, then beamed at the nobleman in welcome.
“Good afternoon, Lord Vane.”
He all but smacked his lips at the sight of her, reminding her of how she’d flirted so outrageously with the man in an effort to impress upon Sterling how very attractive other men found her.
“How wonderful to cross paths with you,” he said, his gaze roaming over her in a most egregious manner. Shame washed over her, imagining what Caroline must think.
Lord Vane went on. “And here Lord Randall had me convinced that you intended to leave as soon as the weather improved.”
“My plans changed when my cousin, Lord Randall’s sister, arrived unexpectedly,” Annabelle said, her cheeks locked in a frozen smile. “Allow me to introduce you. Lady Caroline Randall, meet Lord Vane, a frequent visitor to the island.”
“How do you do, my lady,” he murmured. He treated her with a good deal more respect, Annabelle noted.
Caroline dipped a curtsy. If she thought the interchange strange—and why wouldn’t she?—she gave nothing away by word or deed, bless her.
He switched his attentions back to Annabelle. “What a lucky surprise, my seeing you. Have you come to tour the priory? I am something of an expert in the abbey, if I do say so myself. I am happy to offer my tour guide services,” he said with an obsequious grin.
“That is most kind, sir, but I’m afraid we must decline. Lord Randall is expecting us, and we do not wish to keep him waiting. Isn’t that right, Lady Caroline?”
“Quite right, cousin.”
A hot flush stained Annabelle’s cheeks. She chanced a glance at Caroline.
The normally gentle woman aimed a most feral smile at the man. “A pleasure meeting you, Lord Vane.” The haughty disdain in her tone was unmistakable. “Good day.”
With that, Caroline tightened her grip on Annabelle’s arm and swept her into step beside her.
***
Sterling paced the length of his office. He had arrived back at the manse in a good mood. A fine mood.
He, along with Chip and several brawny local men he’d hired over the last several days had completed sealing up the kilns for the foreseeable future. Instead of the piles of brick and stone previously used, thick wooden doors with heavy keyed locks barred admittance to any casual passersby.
His wife, for one, would not happen inside the dank and dusty caves alone any time soon, to find herself terrorized. Neither would any n’er-do-well troublemaker enjoy a respite from the weather in the kilns.
Nor any jewel thieves, he thought with a brief snort of amusement—and he’d looked forward to saying as much to Annabelle the entire ride home. Looked forward to the spark of fire in her blue eyes when he teased her.
He’d looked forward to seeing her, period.
She’d unleashed something inside him. Some long-dormant hunger he’d never known he possessed.
He wanted to please her. To pamper her. To inspire a blush and watch it flood her cheeks.
To see the shy smile that spread over her face when he did the least little thing for her enjoyment, like providing her with the rich cocoa she adored.
Like bringing her to the height of passion.
And what a passionate creature she was. The mere thought of her heady response to him sent a thrill of heat rushing over his skin.
Discovering his so-called arrogant wife was not the spoiled debutante he’d assumed—not in the ways that mattered—had come as a welcome surprise.
In fairness to himself, she’d hidden that knowledge from the world by design. Annabelle held the ugly truths close, like jealously guarded secrets. He would unearth each and every one. Each and every one.
Such had been his thoughts when he walked through the front door of the castle.
But now, he was annoyed. He’d combed the house, aside from her private chamber and his sister’s, and had found neither hide nor hair of either woman.
He’d searched the parlor, his office, the dining room, the library, and his bedchamber.
Had both women opted to take an afternoon nap at precisely the time he was due to return?
“One would think at least one of them might greet me upon my arrival,” he muttered to himself, swallowing his pride and tromping to the back of the house toward the butler’s office.
Cogsworth had taken his greatcoat and gloves at the door. He’d said nothing of his wife’s whereabouts. But then, Sterling hadn’t asked.
He found the butler’s pantry open, and rapped on the door jamb.
Cogsworth sat behind his desk, scrawling in his ledger. He closed the book and stood. “My lord?”
“Do you happen to know where I might find either my sister or my wife?”
The butler’s gray brows shot up. “Aren’t they back?”
Was the old man hedging? As if he didn’t know who came and went, to the second.
“Back? From where?”
Cogsworth appeared to consider. “The viscountess said something about going on a brief walk with Lady Caroline.”
Sterling frowned. “A walk? At nightfall?” It wasn’t quite nightfall. Definitely dusk.
“The sun was shining when they departed, sir,” the butler said, almost defensively.
With effort, he held on to his patience. “Which was when? Details, Mr. Cogsworth—If you would be so kind.”
The butler got a distinctly wary look. “The ladies departed on foot over an hour ago, my lord. Following tea, if I remember correctly. They made a point to say they intended to return before you, if at all possible.”
“I see.” He thought a moment. “And you have no idea of their intended destination on this walk?”
“I believe they walked into town, sir.”
It was like pulling teeth. Not trusting himself to maintain a civil tone, Sterling nodded his thanks, then strode away.
They’d departed on foot for the village. They’d intended to return before he got back. They hadn’t. Had something gone wrong?
Ice crawled up his spine. Annabelle had been a visitor on Holy Island for only a short time. Already she’d been held at gunpoint and imprisoned in the kilns—not to mention her maid had turned up murdered. Now this. Did the woman have a death wish?
He stalked toward the foyer.
Annabelle loved to ride. Why hadn’t they at least set out on horseback? On horseback, they could make an escape should any villain appear out of nowhere to threaten them—two women, alone, strolling about, nearly after dark.
It was ludicrous. It was irresponsible. Why, the robbers who had accosted her once before could be anywhere. What if they’d glimpsed her walking, alone and unprotected?
Entering the foyer, a thought struck and nearly dropped him to his knees. What if Annabelle were with child? Carrying his babe? And he--instead of keeping watch over her--had been away, toiling at a useless task he should’ve seen to before she’d stumbled into the kilns.
He had to find her, now. He was shrugging on his great coat when the door swung open to reveal his sister and Annabelle, both laughing, cheeks rosy from the cold.
Obviously, in the midst of a lively conversation, their words ceased as they spotted him.
“Sterling, you’re home,” Annabelle said in a breathless rush as the two hastened indoors.
“And only just, by the look of things,” Caroline said in a pleasant tone, unwrapping her scarf.
Behind him, clipped steps sounded. Mr. Cogsworth, heading for the foyer to help the women from their outer garments, no doubt.
“Not quite,” he all but growled, stripping off his coat for the second time in less than an hour.
Annabelle removed her hat. “I…beg your pardon? Oh. Thank you, Mr. Cogsworth,” she said, sending the old butler a warm smile as he reached for her bonnet.
Vexed, Sterling shifted, blocking the butler. He would assist his wife, damn it.
As he helped her from her cloak, the scent of snow, the outdoors, and her unique herbal perfume teased his nostrils. “A word, Annabelle, if you please?”
She glanced toward Caroline, then back at him. “Of course. Caroline, would you…?” She handed his sister a small sack, then eyed him. “Is something wrong?”
Without a word—though he did spare a moment to glare at his sister—Sterling turned and stalked down the corridor toward his office.
Once inside, he waited at the open door, closing it the instant Annabelle crossed the threshold.
Torn between the desire to crush her to him, and the equal urge to throttle her, he folded his arms over his chest and stayed put.
She was halfway to the sofa before she seemed to notice he had not followed her from the doorway. She turned to face him, her wispy brows furrowed.
“What the hell did you think you were doing?” he asked in a low voice.