Chapter 3 #3
She blinked her surprise, pink bringing color to her cheeks. “Oh, gracious, no. I think I shall be fine. It is only a little sore. Thank you again.”
He nodded, and together they exited the trees into the meadow beside the road.
She seemed to be headed in the same direction as he, so he stepped after her.
An air of awkwardness settled about them as they walked in tandem but not truly together.
Her gaze kept flitting to his own, and finally, he broke down and threw propriety aside.
“Forgive the unusual introduction, but I am Sir Henry. I am visiting the island for the summer.”
A strange flash of emotion crossed her face before it became impassive. “You are early, Sir Henry.”
It was his turn to raise his brows. “And you are?”
She pulled in a deep breath. “Your hostess.” She paused her step, turning to him and offering a small, slightly crooked curtsy. “Mrs. Seymour.”
This was Mrs. Seymour? Carlton had briefed him on all he knew about the woman whose home Henry would be invading, including that she was a widow to a naval commander, threw summer house parties each year, and was centrally located on the island—the perfect area for Henry to seek out information.
At no point had he said she was a beautiful woman near him in age.
“I see you are surprised. Forgive me. I ought to have been at the house to greet you.” She started forward again, pulling a breath through her nose and avoiding his eye.
He shook his head, pulling himself from his stupor and starting after her. “It is my own fault for being early.”
She paused before saying, “If you intend to take the blame, I will happily give it to you.” She did not look at him, but he thought there was a smile to her words.
“I hope you will enjoy your stay here.” Then, as if something just occurred to her, she looked past Henry before meeting his eye. “Was not your sister accompanying you?”
“She continued on to the house already.”
A stricken look took her face. “And me not there to greet her. I should have forgone this walk.”
Henry shook his head. “She will not mind in the least.” In fact, she would probably be happy to be shown to her room to hide away. It did not do well for Henry’s backup plan, but there was nothing for it now.
“You are kind, but this is not how a hostess ought to be. I should have been more prepared.” She seemed truly distressed. Her steps had picked up pace, and her hands clenched her skirts.
Henry kept pace with her. “I am certain your housekeeper will welcome Julia satisfactorily.”
Mrs. Seymour nodded, though the action appeared distracted. “Yes. Yes, she will.”
Anxious to improve her mood, though he could not say why, he lengthened his stride, ducking his head to see her as they walked. “Besides, had you been at home, you would not have been here to greet me. You have successfully greeted fifty percent of your early guests.”
She shook her head, but a small smile danced across her lips. “But if I’d been home, I could have greeted you both. First your sister, then yourself when you arrived.”
“And if I became . . . lost? How would it appear if you’d lost a guest on your very first day? What sort of hostess would you be then?”
She stifled a laugh. Her hands had lost some of their whiteness as they held her skirt. “You are on a road, Sir Henry.”
“I’ve never been one to follow the path of least resistance.” Wasn’t that the truth. “What if I strayed from the road, became mired in . . . in . . . ”
“A treacherously unstable grouping of stones?” she offered.
“Yes! I could have been stuck forever. Or I could fall into the sea. Off a cliff. Into a den of wolves.”
“We have no wolves on the island.” Her steps had slowed now, and one of her hands had released the fabric of her dress.
He heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. You cannot know how terrified I am of wolves. You’ve set my mind at ease. My word—what a wonderful hostess you are.”
She laughed outright, and the noise held in it a sense of nostalgia, as if he’d heard it before. But it did not last long before her features were schooled into a sort of calm gratitude. “Thank you, Sir Henry, you’ve made me feel a great deal better.”
While still walking sideways, he bowed with a flourish. “I am thrilled to have been of service.” He hadn’t a clue where his theatrics were coming from, but something about this woman and their conversation had remarkably lifted his mood.
He straightened to the sight of her brilliant smile.
She’d stopped walking and was watching him with utter amusement.
The look made him stand a little taller.
The woman really was beautiful, a fact he’d noticed but not dwelt on upon first seeing her.
With hair that shone a lustrous red as the sun danced upon its strands, full lips, and wide eyes. That hair. It reminded him of . . .
He was staring.
He cleared his throat, looking away. He was here to uncover a piracy plot and matchmake his sister, not moon over their hostess.
Gads, could she be involved in the piracy?
Certainly not. Women of such standing as hers would never stoop so low.
Could her husband have been, though? He was a naval man, which was one of the few fairly concrete pieces of information they had about the Gentleman Pirate.
Henry planned to learn of anyone with naval ties first thing.
Would he be looking askance at every member of the party? It was exactly what he was meant to be doing, come to think of it.
She did not seem to notice his discomfort as she retied her bonnet strings then pointed in front of them, through two sets of a dozen or so trees that lined the road. “Windvale is just through here. Come, let us see that your sister has settled in satisfactorily.”
He nodded his agreement, then lengthened his stride to close the distance between them and the house a bit more quickly.
But it faltered when they passed beneath the trees.
The road ended at a circular drive situated in front of the home.
Castle was a better descriptor, though. The edifice sat atop a rise, flowering gardens on one side sloping down to what must have been a beautiful vantage point of the ocean.
Made of gray stone, it boasted small windows, a battlement, and a partial wall encircling the entire structure.
Either it housed a great deal of history, or else it was an impressive approximation of a castle.
From the uppermost floor, the view across the Channel would be impressive.
“Do you like it?”
He startled, turning to Mrs. Seymour, who stood beside him. “Yes. Yes, it is striking. Grand.”
“Thank you, I am quite partial to it myself.” She gazed upon the home for a moment longer, a smile teasing her lips before she motioned him forward. A maid, two footmen, and the housekeeper came through the front doors as they approached.
“Mrs. Trumble, did you see to it that Miss Ainsley was shown her room?” Mrs. Seymour asked the housekeeper.
Mrs. Trumble nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Wonderful. Will you show Sir Henry to his?”
“Of course.”
Mrs. Seymour turned to Henry, the picture of a perfect hostess, rather than the wild damsel he’d encountered.
“Thank you for the enjoyable walk, Sir Henry. I hope you find the accommodations to your liking. We will meet for dinner at half past five. The drawing room is just to the left of the entrance hall.”
They started up the stairs to the grand front doors. “I look forward to continuing our acquaintance,” he said. And he should probably temper the amount of looking forward he was feeling. Again, the beautiful hostess was not his reason for being here.