Chapter Seventeen #2
As the twins continued to discuss the likelihood of acquiring a puppy, Julian leaned a little closer to Annabelle. “I hope you approve, Miss Fairfax,” he said, softly, “of my inviting the twins.”
“I most certainly do,” she replied. “They are so much fun.”
Julian winced. “Well, that’s one way of describing them.”
She laughed. “No, really, Mr. Northcott, it’s perfect. Hattie is a dear, and she means well, but she can be a little…”
“Fierce?”
Annabelle laughed again and cocked her head. “She means no harm. In any case, it seems you won her over today. Miss Caldridge, as well.”
Julian’s mouth quirked. “Did I?”
“You know you did, sir.”
Yes, he knew, though he’d merely been himself, no pretense, no charades.
Unlike, he suspected, the two women in question who, in his opinion, were not quite all they seemed to be.
The first time he’d met Hattie Henshaw, he’d felt it.
A sense of covertness, specifically when she’d denied knowing the location of Annabelle’s childhood exodus to the north of England.
That same feeling had arisen when he’d met Miss Caldridge, or rather, encountered her in the long gallery.
“They’re merely protective of me,” Annabelle added. “Especially Hattie.”
No, Julian thought, it was more than that.
Having just seen the two ladies together, he was more convinced—and intrigued—than ever.
He’d surreptitiously watch the looks the women had exchanged during that half-hour.
It was a shared language, silent, but well-practiced, the meaning known only to them.
Annabelle was either oblivious to it or misread it completely.
He twisted in his seat, facing her. “How long have you known them?”
Annabelle’s brows lifted slightly. “Hattie and Jan… er, Miss Caldridge? I’ve known Hattie all my life.
That is, for as long as I can remember. I’d never met Miss Caldridge till we arrived here last month.
I didn’t even know she existed, actually, although Hattie insists she mentioned her to me in the past. Perhaps she did, but I have no recollection of it. ”
“So, Miss Caldridge is related to Hattie?’
“Yes. A distant cousin, apparently. Why?”
“Just curious,” Julian replied. “They seem very close.”
“They are.” A frown appeared as Annabelle looked down at her lap.
“Actually, Mr. Northcott, I should tell you that I intend to return to London, and sooner rather than later. My letter to Mr. Mason was mailed this morning. In it, I asked he not renew the lease on the house at the end of September and perhaps suggest rooms I might rent should I return to London before then.”
“May I ask why? I mean, you seem to be happy here.”
“Oh, I am.” The frown vanished and a slight flush arose in Annabelle’s cheeks. “And more so since last Thursday.”
Julian inclined his head. “I do believe we have that in common, Miss Fairfax.”
She smiled and then the frown returned. “But I’m beginning to believe my stay at Ferndale Grange has run its course. Miss Caldridge has been rather quick-tempered with me of late.”
“From Annie to Annabelle in less than a minute?”
Annabelle chuckled. “Yes, exactly, but it’s not just that. Truth is, this was only ever meant to be a temporary situation, and I think it’s time I returned to the city.”
Julian voiced the one major concern he had. “Is it safe to do so, Miss Fairfax? I know I’ve asked you this before, but might Leopold De Witte be a threat to you?”
“Well, actually, there has been a development since we last met.” Annabelle regarded the twins, who were practically nose-to-nose while discussing something they obviously found amusing. “But I’d prefer to tell you about it when and if we get a moment alone.”
A cold hand wrapped itself around Julian’s heart. “We last met only three days ago. Are you saying there’s been a development since then?”
“Mr. Northcott, please.” She glanced at the twins again. “I’d rather wait for a more suitable moment.”
“Then tell me this much for now, at least,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. “Are you in danger, Annabelle?”
Her eyes widened at the use of her Christian name. “No sir, I don’t believe so.”
Julian searched her face for any hint of fear or uncertainty, but found none.
Drawing breath, he lifted her hand to his lips and held it there for a moment.
That is, until the sound of an exaggerated and unladylike clearing of the throat came from the opposite seat, its intent quite clear.
Julian smiled against the back of Annabelle’s hand and then released it.
“Perhaps we should have invited Hattie after all,” he said.
Annabelle laughed. “No. I much prefer this arrangement.”
Julian looked over at Evie, who was regarding him with an expression more befitting their grandmother. “Just doing my job, brother dear,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“I appreciate that, Evie,” Julian replied, his tone serious.
“Thank you,” she said. “I think.”
“Actually, Miss Fairfax, our brother would never behave inappropriately.” Clara gave her sister a sideways glance. “Evie was just making a point.”
“And relished doing so, apparently,” Julian added, trying not to laugh. “But thank you, Clara.”
“I know he wouldn’t,” Annabelle replied, glancing at him. “He’s an honorable man.”
Julian grimaced. “All right, this conversation is becoming decidedly uncomfortable. How about we just acknowledge the fact that I’m a prince, and then change the subject.”
“How about we just change the subject?” Evie retorted, prompting laughter all round.
At that moment, the carriage turned onto a narrow stone bridge which spanned the river. Annabelle straightened and sat forward. “Oh! What is that?”
“That,” Julian replied, following her line of sight, “is what used to be a Roman bathhouse.”