Chapter 2
A far window was propped open in the drawing room of Banbury Castle, letting in an August breeze Anton could appreciate.
He’d rather not be hot during an already uncomfortable situation.
He sat across from his younger brother, sister, and best friend on one of three sofas situated around an empty fireplace.
Mother had gathered them to greet Miss Muffet who had just arrived.
“I must warn you,” Blake Gunther said to Anton’s sister, Mary, “Miss Muffet is a total bore.” Gunther might be his soon-to-be brother and closest friend, but he deserved the slap on his shoulder he received from Mary.
“Don’t be rude.” Mary shook her head and turned to face Anton.
“Trust me,” Gunther said, fluffing his blond hair up off his forehead. “If you had been with her at the house party with your brothers and me, then you would understand. The woman does not engage in cards, play croquet, dance, or even speak.”
“Of course she speaks.” Mary laughed, her dark curls bouncing.
Unfortunately, this was how Anton remembered Miss Muffet too. “The only thing I have seen her do is sit down for meals, but I would not be surprised if she was too timid to eat.”
His brother, Terrance, reached forward and grabbed a handful of nuts from a decorative bowl on the tea tray.
“I tried to engage her in conversation once or twice, but she said very little and did not appreciate my efforts.” He sat back and stretched out his long legs, dropping nuts into his mouth one at a time.
Anton tapped Terrance’s foot with his own.
Time to get his family on board. “Miss Muffet might be as dull as dishwater, but I expect all of you to make her feel welcome here. Mama is completely exhausted from her trip and overwhelmed with two weddings on the horizon. We cannot expect her to play hostess around the clock.”
“You mean for us to take turns?” Mary asked.
“An excellent idea,” Anton said. “Who shall be first?”
Gunther scooted closer in his seat to Mary. “Since Mary and I are engaged, I shall assist her in her turn.”
“And it isn’t very proper for me to entertain her,” Terrance argued. “Miss Bliss would never permit it.” Anton tightened his hand on the arm of his chair. He had once thought Miss Bliss would be his fiancé, not his brother’s. Any mention of her name still bothered him.
“You can still visit with Miss Muffet after dinner,” Anton said, attempting to keep his voice even. “When Miss Bliss arrives, you can join forces like Gunther and Mary.”
Terrance wiped his forehead in relief like he’d escaped the guillotine.
It looked like entertaining Miss Muffet would largely fall to Anton.
He had more than enough to do running the estate and trying to get everything in order before another session of parliament.
He had tenant problems and harvest looming.
He needed to chaperone two engaged couples and now this.
He pulled at his cravat. Someone had better open up a second window.
He longed for fresh air. “All right,” he said, shifting in his seat, “do not forget your charges.”
“Yes, Father,” Terrance teased.
Anton picked up a nut from the tea tray and threw it at his brother just as Terrance turned away. It nailed him in the back of the head.
“Ouch!” Terrance cried.
“My apologies.” Anton smiled. “Your large head makes a perfect target.”
Terrance smirked. “I’ll return the favor when you least expect it.” They had never grown out of their brotherly pranks, so the threat was not a surprise.
“You might be taller,” Anton said, “but I am superior in my brother-torture skill set. It comes with age. A baby like you could never understand.” The insults were harmless, but they reminded him that he really did care about his brother—even if he was getting married before him.
He was quickly losing everything of normalcy around him.
It had been hard when Father died, but having his brother and sister marry and leave him behind might be worse.
The door opened, and they stood on ceremony. Mother guided Miss Muffet into the room. The bespectacled creature kept her head ducked and slightly turned away from them. Never had Anton met someone so painfully shy before.
“You remember my sons, Lord Crawford and Mr. Hadley?” Mother motioned to him and Terrance. They bowed like well-practiced soldiers—and just as serious. How could they not be under such awkward circumstances?
“How do you do?” Anton asked.
Miss Muffet, in her dowdy, shapeless gray dress curtsied, low and deep. She avoided his eyes and made no verbal greeting.
“And this is my daughter Lady Mary and her intended, Mr. Gunther. But you have met Mr. Gunther before. He lives a few miles away, and we see him quite regularly.”
Miss Muffet curtsied without further acknowledgment.
Mary stepped forward. “I do hope we will be good friends, Miss Muffet.”
Miss Muffet murmured something they could not hear.
Mother looked at Anton for help. She seemed weary in body and spirit, having not quite recovered from her recent journey to care for his older sister and her children.
Anton cleared his throat and approached Miss Muffet. “Would you care for a tour of Banbury Castle?” He put his arm out as a not-so-subtle hint.
She tentatively accepted his arm, and Anton realized what he had done. He had volunteered to be alone with the silent woman. Heaven help him.
Terrance gave Anton an amused glance as he led Miss Muffet past him and out of the drawing room.
Anton showed Miss Muffet the dining room, the ballroom, the portrait gallery, and finally, they stepped into Banbury’s library.
A small fire crackled in the hearth and filled the room with more warmth than he liked this time of year.
Besides his office, this was his domain.
The rows of books felt more alive than some people.
If only their unspoken words could burst their spines and teach him all their wisdom and knowledge.
He admired the room for a moment, proud of his collection, then turned to gauge the level of disinterest from Miss Muffet.
Instead of tucking her chin down and ignoring him altogether, her attention was consumed with her surroundings.
Anton caught a full picture of her profile and blinked in surprise.
Lands, she had very fine skin. She extended her neck to see the books on the highest shelf, flush with the ceiling.
He caught himself staring at the slender curve of her throat.
He looked away, uncomfortable with the idea of finding such a woman attractive.
Dare he mention that this was his private library?
It would be a lie, but if he had to share it, he didn’t want it to be with Miss Muffet.
His sister, Mary, rarely read unless it was a letter from a friend.
Terrance enjoyed history and geography and the farmer’s almanac, but he did not have much of an imagination.
So, the library was Anton’s solace from the world.
He cleared his throat. “Do you care for books, Miss Muffet?” What a silly question.
He recalled her complete absorption in books at Rosewood Park during their house party.
“Yes.” Her answer was so quiet, he nearly missed it.
It was a small triumph, which encouraged him to press her. “Oh? Would you care to borrow a book?”
“Perhaps another time.” Her words were so light they could be carried out the window with the breeze. She turned to leave the library, and his impatience with her grew. He predicted this to be the longest month of his life.
Elena skipped around her bedchamber the next morning, then twirled and fell on her bed.
So, this was what heaven was like. She was free here in her room, and it was glorious.
The tour of Banbury had been fascinating.
It was an actual medieval castle, albeit a renovated one, with a portion of its original moat channeling off into the Oxford Canal.
Nonetheless, it had a keep, an outer wall, and an elaborate ornamental garden—all of which were perfectly wonderful for someone as passionate for history as she was.
The town was built off of its property as an appendage, rather like a hen watching over its chicks.
Her smile dropped, thinking of what had come after the tour.
Dinner had been less thrilling with her conflicting inner voices telling her how she must behave.
It was as if Bianca was inside of her, commanding her to follow her rules.
Elena blinked away her ugly thoughts. After a full day with her host family yesterday, she refused to think of Bianca. This was a moment to savor.
Unfortunately, her first task of the day would be to make a list of excuses to avoid the family.
The less interaction, the less fuel Bianca could use against her.
After she pondered a few ideas, she made her way to the dining room for breakfast. She almost turned around when she saw Lord Crawford, his lean figure bent over his food, eating alone.
Her eyes went to his neatly combed dark hair and his stylish double-knotted cravat.
She stepped backward, but he caught sight of her. Instinctively, she dropped her gaze.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
What was she supposed to say? Yes, infinitely better than at home where my sister plots how to stage my premature death? Instead, she chanced a quick nod. She quietly moved to the sideboard and began to fill her plate with a hardboiled egg, dried dates, and a slice of sweet bread.
She sat as far from Lord Crawford as she could. She moved to take a bite, but his gaze seemed to bore into her. What if he tried to talk to her again? What should she say? She shoved a morsel of bread in her mouth, chewing deliberately slow.
“Uh, Miss Muffet,” Lord Crawford began.
Elena closed her eyes and groaned internally. Please be a reprehensible host and ignore me.
“Would you care to borrow a book this morning?”