She desperately needed to talk to someone about her relationship with Ian. Aunt Griselda would not do. She would likely faint if Annabelle admitted kissing Ian in Lady Markham’s garden. Either that or insist on posting the banns. Neither reaction appealed.
Ian stirred her passion, but passion was not love. He did not believe in love.
Annabelle was almost convinced that she was having her first encounter with the emotion. What a muddle!
Stopping at her aunt’s door, she peeked in.
“Don’t stand there peeping around the door like some child caught sneaking treats from the tea tray. Come in and tell me what had you woolgathering on the journey home last evening.”
Annabelle moved into the room. Lady Beauford sat up in bed, the heavy damask draperies pulled aside. A tray with chocolate and the remnants of breakfast reposed beside her on the ice blue coverlet. Beneath her attractive lace cap, the dowager’s face was wan.
“Aunt Griselda, are you feeling quite the thing? You look a bit peaked.” Taking an imperious inventory of Annabelle’s appearance, Lady Beauford harrumphed. “This from a gel who doesn’t know any better than to dress like a governess when she’s expecting gentleman callers?”
Annabelle quelled under her aunt’s scrutiny. Her choice of dress had made sense in her chilly room. Knowing that it was unlikely to be warmer anywhere else in the house because the dowager had a tiny idiosyncrasy about saving money on coal, Annabelle had opted to don a fawn-colored wool dress. Its only claim to fashion the suitably high waist and long sleeves puffed at the top. She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. This particular argument with her aunt was long standing.
“It is uncommonly cold this morning. Had you noticed?”
“It must be. You are wearing a perfect fright of a dress. You look like someone’s housekeeper.”
First a governess and now a housekeeper. It could only get worse. It would not do to give in too easily, though. “Never say so. This is a perfectly reasonable dress especially for a day like today with no fires lit.”
The argument had at least brought the color back to Lady Beauford’s cheeks. “In my day, gels were not so worried about comfort as looking their best when callers arrived.” Going forward to adjust the shawl around her aunt’s shoulders, Annabelle said,
“Undoubtedly it would be better were I made of sterner stuff.” Lady Beauford allowed the ministrations. “Humph. I’ll order a fire lit in the drawing room and you can change your dress to one of your new lawn gowns.” Annabelle smiled at the concession. “Aunt Griselda, that is very kind of you, but I like this dress. I’m sure we won’t have any callers as it is not typically our at-home day.”
“You do not expect me to take you calling in that?” Lady Beauford looked properly horrified.
“Of course not, Aunt Griselda. I had thought to take care of some correspondence today. Now, you can see that my dress is hardly significant.” Lady Beauford sighed and rested against the pillows. “Very well. Dress as you like, but if the laird comes calling today, do not pretend I did not warn you.” Poor Aunt Griselda. “I’ll change my dress after breakfast. All right?” Annabelle asked.
The other woman nodded. “Now, be off with you.” As Annabelle approached the breakfast room, she heard Ian’s deep burr and the deferential tones of the butler in the hall. Annoyed that her aunt had indeed been right and that she would be caught dressed like a governess, Annabelle moved forward to greet him.
She could have waited and Cresswell would undoubtedly have told Ian that they were not yet receiving. The irresistible pull of Ian’s presence overcame her frustration at being caught dressed so practically, however.
He stood with his back to her, still wearing his many caped great coat. A large basket of red roses dangled from his hand.
“Good morning, my lord.”
His head came around at the sound of her
Ian stirred her passion, but passion was not love. He did not believe in love.
Annabelle was almost convinced that she was having her first encounter with the emotion. What a muddle!
Stopping at her aunt’s door, she peeked in.
“Don’t stand there peeping around the door like some child caught sneaking treats from the tea tray. Come in and tell me what had you woolgathering on the journey home last evening.”
Annabelle moved into the room. Lady Beauford sat up in bed, the heavy damask draperies pulled aside. A tray with chocolate and the remnants of breakfast reposed beside her on the ice blue coverlet. Beneath her attractive lace cap, the dowager’s face was wan.
“Aunt Griselda, are you feeling quite the thing? You look a bit peaked.” Taking an imperious inventory of Annabelle’s appearance, Lady Beauford harrumphed. “This from a gel who doesn’t know any better than to dress like a governess when she’s expecting gentleman callers?”
Annabelle quelled under her aunt’s scrutiny. Her choice of dress had made sense in her chilly room. Knowing that it was unlikely to be warmer anywhere else in the house because the dowager had a tiny idiosyncrasy about saving money on coal, Annabelle had opted to don a fawn-colored wool dress. Its only claim to fashion the suitably high waist and long sleeves puffed at the top. She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. This particular argument with her aunt was long standing.
“It is uncommonly cold this morning. Had you noticed?”
“It must be. You are wearing a perfect fright of a dress. You look like someone’s housekeeper.”
First a governess and now a housekeeper. It could only get worse. It would not do to give in too easily, though. “Never say so. This is a perfectly reasonable dress especially for a day like today with no fires lit.”
The argument had at least brought the color back to Lady Beauford’s cheeks. “In my day, gels were not so worried about comfort as looking their best when callers arrived.” Going forward to adjust the shawl around her aunt’s shoulders, Annabelle said,
“Undoubtedly it would be better were I made of sterner stuff.” Lady Beauford allowed the ministrations. “Humph. I’ll order a fire lit in the drawing room and you can change your dress to one of your new lawn gowns.” Annabelle smiled at the concession. “Aunt Griselda, that is very kind of you, but I like this dress. I’m sure we won’t have any callers as it is not typically our at-home day.”
“You do not expect me to take you calling in that?” Lady Beauford looked properly horrified.
“Of course not, Aunt Griselda. I had thought to take care of some correspondence today. Now, you can see that my dress is hardly significant.” Lady Beauford sighed and rested against the pillows. “Very well. Dress as you like, but if the laird comes calling today, do not pretend I did not warn you.” Poor Aunt Griselda. “I’ll change my dress after breakfast. All right?” Annabelle asked.
The other woman nodded. “Now, be off with you.” As Annabelle approached the breakfast room, she heard Ian’s deep burr and the deferential tones of the butler in the hall. Annoyed that her aunt had indeed been right and that she would be caught dressed like a governess, Annabelle moved forward to greet him.
She could have waited and Cresswell would undoubtedly have told Ian that they were not yet receiving. The irresistible pull of Ian’s presence overcame her frustration at being caught dressed so practically, however.
He stood with his back to her, still wearing his many caped great coat. A large basket of red roses dangled from his hand.
“Good morning, my lord.”
His head came around at the sound of her
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