Chapter 19
At the post, she intended to send the letter in her pocket. She intended to get her life back. But when she entered, and the bright-eyed young man behind the counter greeted her, she lost her nerve.
“Nice to see you again, Miss Ravenwood. I have a few letters for you.”
When he handed them to her, she saw one was from her aunt. Her gut clenched. The others were responses to her advertisement in the Tribune.
“Anything else I can do for you?” he added.
She plastered on a smile. “No, thank you. Just a mail pickup.”
When she turned to go, he said, “I hope things are well for you, miss.”
Things were certainly not well for her. But she continued to smile anyway and gave him a nod as she sprinted out the door.
Rather than return to the manor, she clutched the letters in her hand and walked through the village. When she found a bench near the fountain, she sat and held the papers in her lap, staring down at them as though they were a foreign object.
It was hard to forget the way Gabriel looked at her with such fury.
As though he were enraged by her questions.
The look in his eyes—rage, grief, maybe even fear—sliced straight through her.
And it cut her to the core. Only the night before they had connected in a way that seemed impossible.
And now…now things were fractured between them once more. It hurt.
Turning her attention to the letters in her lap, she opened the first one from the Tribune.
It started with I regret to inform you and ended with apologies.
The second letter was much the same but with a harsher tone.
I wouldn’t work in that horrifying manor if it was the last job on earth.
And the last was nothing more than a simple no, thank you.
Nothing could have prepared her for that amount of rejection.
Now, she was faced with her aunt’s letter, saving it for last. Gods, she wished she could leave it sealed. But she knew she had to open it. Sliding her thumbnail under the wax seal, she broke it and read the salutation. My dearest Victoria, how we miss you here in Crown Hollow!
As she read on, it was not good news. As her gaze skipped down the page of the elegant handwriting, a mixture of horror and dread pounded through her. Her stomach clenched into a tight knot.
I thought it prudent that the Honorable Earl of Berkhampstead, Lord Charles Howard, and I visit your estate.
Did you know he’s the 22nd Earl of Berkhampstead?
He was quite interested in hearing all about Ravenfell Manor and simply insisted on coming to see it and you.
I think you’ll like him! He’s a very nice man.
Handsome with a sizeable wealth and a lovely brownstone in Crown Hollow.
Of course, you needn’t worry about us imposing on you. I know full well, from your uncle, the ramshackle state of the manor. So, not to worry. I have a cousin not far from you there in the country and she’ll be happy to host us.
We’ll see you in the forenoon on Thursday next—
Oh, gods! That was today!
Victoria leapt to her feet, the rejection letters from the Tribune fluttering to the ground at her feet. She hastily snatched them up, crumpling them and her aunt’s letter in her fist.
She sprinted through the village streets, clutching the wrinkled regrets in one hand and panic in the other while simultaneously whispering a fervent wish. Let Gabriel be in the garden. Let her reach the manor before the knock came at the door.
She didn’t stop even as the silhouette of Ravenfell came into view at the end of the road. It rose ahead of her, dark and looming as it always had, utterly unaware of the storm that was about to crash through its front door.
But as she crested the hill, and the driveway came into full view, she skittered to a halt.
The storm had already arrived.
A sleek black carriage stood parked in front of the manor, its wheels glistening from the road. A footman opened the door as the passengers exited. Laughter echoed on the drive. One of the voices unmistakably her aunt.
No.
Her stomach dropped to her shoes. Sweat dampened her dress and her hair stuck to the back of her neck. She watched, horrified, at what was unfolding before her.
Gabriel stood in the doorway, his face unreadable. His body was stiff, his shoulders square, his jaw tight. Her aunt looped her hand through the arm of the tall, blond man in a pristine coat of dark navy as she chattered away, fluttering her lashes and looking utterly ridiculous.
Victoria couldn’t move. The letters drifted from her hand, scattering on the ground, as a sick feeling crept up her throat.
She was frozen in place, unable to take one more step, and thankful no one saw her standing there, terror rising like a knot in her throat.
Gabriel stepped aside and motioned for them to enter the manor. Her aunt tittered something. The blond man—who must be the earl—followed her, disappearing inside. And Gabriel, pausing there in the doorway to glance toward the carriage in disdain, finally turned and closed the front door.
Victoria bent to pick up the letters before they blew away in the wind. She knew she had to face her fate. She knew she had to go into the manor, but gods, every part of her recoiled from it.
Steeling her nerves, she shoved the letters into her pocket and walked to the manor. She pushed open the door, the sunlight slashing across the floor, elongating her shadow. Voices came from the parlor. The faint clank of dishes in the kitchen.
Rather than face her aunt and the earl, she decided to face Gabriel first. To explain. But what explanation could she give him? She knew this arrival was a likely event by the first letter her aunt sent. Her hope was the idea would die when Victoria didn’t answer.
In the kitchen, Gabriel prepared a tea tray. When he heard her enter, he spun to face her.
Fury was written all over his face.
It made her shrink away. To step back. Facing her aunt did not seem so daunting now as she and Gabriel stared each other down.
“Did you know?” His voice was hard as stone.
“I-I…” She dragged in a breath, ragged and unsteady, and started again. “Aunt Eloise mentioned she wanted me to meet someone, but I never thought she’d come here.”
“And that someone being this man who has invaded my house.”
She blinked, unsure how to respond to that.
Then her own fury boiled. “Your house? I believe Ravenfell is my inheritance. And I never wanted her to come here. I only received the letter this morning. She must have posted it after she sent the first. I would have told you beforehand, but they were already here.”
His jaw clenched as he turned away to remove the boiling kettle from the stove. “They can’t stay.”
“They aren’t.” She clenched her fists.
“They want to stay for luncheon.”
This sounded like an affront. As though their visit and demand to remain for luncheon was an imposition. Perhaps it was. The house hadn’t welcomed guests in years. She wondered how long it would tolerate this visit.
His hands worked in methodical movements as he poured the boiling water in the teapot. She watched as he placed cups, creamer, and sugar bowl on the tray, then picked it up.
“Gabriel, I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
He said nothing else as he brushed by her and exited the kitchen.
Following him was her only option. She headed out of the kitchen, across the foyer, and into the parlor where her aunt chattered endlessly about nothing.
The earl sat on the edge of a chair, a tight smile on his face.
Gabriel placed the tea service down on the low table just as Victoria entered the room.
“Ah, there you are! My dear, where have you been hiding?”
Her aunt rose from her position on the sofa and bustled toward her, giving her a once over.
Clearly, she did not approve of the state of her gown.
Faint grass stains were on the skirt where she had kneeled in the cemetery.
Sweat dampened her bodice and back and her hair was disheveled and not at all tidy.
She was not presentable enough to receive guests.
“My goodness. Are you well? You look flushed,” her aunt said.
She looked at Gabriel who shot her a glare as he stepped out of the room, disappearing in the depths of the manor. His presence was the only thing that gave her strength and now he was gone. Leaving her alone with the wolves.
“I…I got your letter today saying you were coming. I hurried from the post,” Victoria said. “I apologize for my appearance. I should change.”
“No need on my account,” the earl said, rising from his chair. He stepped around her aunt and offered her a brilliant smile.
He was handsome with striking blue eyes, blond hair that swooped across his forehead, a perfect face that exuded aristocracy. Indeed, he looked how the 22nd Earl of Berkhampstead should look. Regal. Noble. Finely dressed. He exuded old money.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said.
“Oh, how impertinent of me!” her aunt gasped. “Lord Charles, this is my niece, Miss Victoria Ravenwood. Victoria, darling, may I present to you the Earl of Berkhampstead?”
“Nice to meet you,” she said, stiffly.
He extended his hand to her. She took it, reluctantly. His fingers closed around hers, giving her a strong, hearty handshake.
“Your aunt has told me a lot about you and this manor.” He glanced up at the rafters, as though he were impressed by the aged coffered ceiling.
“Has she?”
“Indeed, I have,” she announced and stepped to the tea service with a swish of voluminous skirts. “I told him all about your inheritance and how you were left this crumbling pile of bricks and the fortune to fix it. Such an exciting challenge for a young lady, don’t you think?”
Horror sliced through her as her gaze snapped to her aunt. She sucked in a quiet breath, trying to decide how to respond and what to say. How could Aunt Eloise divulge such personal information? Her aunt prattled on, unaware of her misstep, as she poured a cup of tea.
“I really don’t understand how you can stay here with that…that…caretaker.” She gave a mock shudder and wrinkled her nose in disdain. “So cold and aloof. How do you two get on?” She turned her prying gaze on Victoria, clearly looking for gossip.
“We get on just fine,” Victoria said, tersely.
Next to her, the earl shifted, uneasy. He cleared his throat.
“I understand your mother planted most of the gardens with prize winning flowers,” he said, trying to steer the conversation a different direction. “I’d love to see them.”
“Oh—” Victoria began.
The clink of a cup on a saucer interrupted her. “Yes! Let’s see the gardens. It will give us something to do to pass the time while we wait for luncheon to be served.”
Victoria tried not to bristle at that. As though Gabriel were nothing but a servant here to take care of every whim from luncheon to serving tea. He was much more than that. She looked from her aunt to Lord Charles who appeared to be uncomfortable with her aunt’s brash tone.
“If you’ll follow me, then, my lord.”
Victoria led them from the parlor, thankful to be out of the stifling room.
She hadn’t realized just how much she was on edge.
A gust of icy air swept through the corridor ahead of them.
Too cold for the warmth of the day. Victoria tensed.
Lenore hadn’t made an appearance, but the manor had noticed the intrusion.
And it did not take kindly to their arrival.