Chapter 4
Chapter Four
There are few things more disconcerting than a man who refuses to behave as one expects.
I had risen early, not for any noble reason but because the bed—though wide and graciously pillowed—felt unfamiliar.
The weight of the blankets was wrong. The house creaked oddly.
And I could not rid myself of the feeling that, at any moment, I might round a corner and find Mr. Brooks standing there, arms folded, already aware of my every intention.
He had a habit of appearing as though summoned by private thought.
I crossed to the window and peeled back the curtain. The grounds lay blanketed in a soft frost, as if the very grass were holding its breath. Below, a figure strode across the lawn with confident purpose—dark coat, gloved hands behind his back. Even at a distance, there was no mistaking him.
Mr. Brooks again.
Did stewards always rise so early? Did they always walk as though they owned the place?
“Morning already, ma’am?”
I turned to find Lucy bustling in, her arms full of linens and a pair of boots slung from one wrist. Her brown hair was already pinned, her apron neatly pressed—far more composed than I felt.
“It is,” I replied, folding my arms. “Though I cannot say I slept soundly.”
“Too quiet, I expect. Country silence is different than city silence.”
“It whistles through the chimneys.”
She smiled, setting the linens aside. “It is a rather large room.”
“And one that feels much like being observed by ancestors.”
Lucy laughed and began laying out my day gown. “That Mr. Brooks left a note,” she added. “Said you might wish to see the tenant records this afternoon. He’ll be in the study—again.”
“I’ve no doubt,” I muttered.
She raised her brow. “He does seem settled, doesn’t he? For a man who is helping out.”
“He seems... everywhere,” I said, not quite meaning to.
I sat while she arranged my hair, letting her tug and twist as she liked.
Lucy had been my maid since the early days of my marriage—though in truth, she had become far more than that.
When I’d insisted she needn’t follow me to Bath after Edward’s funeral, she’d refused with such vehemence it had left me speechless.
“There’s more,” Lucy added, twisting in another pin. “A message arrived—your sisters are expected tomorrow.”
“Both of them?” I winced.
“Lady Allen and Miss Georgiana, yes. They’re traveling with a companion and two valets.”
“Two?”
“One for the lapdog, I believe.”
“Of course.” I tried not to groan audibly. “Lucy, if I should wander into the orchard and disappear entirely, you may tell them I’ve become a recluse and taken a vow of silence.”
“They won’t believe me.”
“They’ll never notice. They rarely notice anything about me beyond my posture and my choice in ribbons.”
She paused, looking into my reflection in the mirror. “I would notice and then I’d have to be telling them, and then, perhaps for the upheaval, they’d call the magistrate and we might have a regular search party.”
My throat tightened unexpectedly, so I busied myself with smoothing a wrinkle from my glove.
“You would notice, that is for certain. As for the rest of that nonsense, who could say?” I laughed. “I suppose I shall walk,” I said after a moment. “While the sun holds. And perhaps get a better look at the grounds before I must give guided tours.”
“Would you like me to accompany you?”
“No, thank you. I think I’d prefer solitude today.”
She nodded, adjusting my shawl. “Just don’t stray near the back paddock. They say one of the geese bites.”
“Excellent. I shall add him to my list of unwelcome surprises.”
I left the room with no particular destination in mind, but with one particular man rather annoyingly lodged in the corner of my thoughts.
Wherever I went in this house, he had already been.
And I had a strange feeling I would find him again before the day was out—whether I intended to or not.