the story of Mrs. Tremaine, he felt quite ready to meet with
her and look for the crack in her demeanor. He was sure he would be able to
distinguish the truth in both her words and actions.
Ten minutes later, Sabrina walked into the room looking as
breathtakingly beautiful and regal as Cleopatra herself. Ford stood and offered
her a glass of sherry.
"Yes, please," Sabrina said with a slight blush. "It’s
been quite a long day."
Ford poured the sweet wine and handed the tiny crystal glass
to her. They both sat, and while Sabrina arranged her skirts with her free
hand, Ford studied her. The plain, but fine clothes confused him. Certainly a
true lady would own similar garments, especially one who was recently out of
mourning. That was a flaw in his recent deductions. And her manners were
impeccable. He would need to study her more closely. Maybe a few carefully
worded questions would help him deduce her true identity.
"Were you able to locate the staff?" he began the
conversation at the simplest place. After all, it had been one of his major
concerns.
Sabrina laughed demurely and set her sherry on a piecrust
table. It was an infectious sound and sent a thrill through Ford’s body so that
he couldn’t help but laugh too.
"Yes, I found them all," she said, sitting
straight in her seat with her feet tucked very properly beneath her skirt, and
her hands elegantly folded. "And they are able and willing to return your
household to its earlier efficiency. I was even able to get a few projects
under way this afternoon. The ballroom is being opened up and by tomorrow we
shall know how many we can accommodate for a fete."
"A fete," Ford exclaimed. "So soon? I’m
afraid you are too efficient, Mrs. Tremaine. I’m not altogether ready for a
party just yet. Maybe a dinner or two would be more suited to my social
abilities at present."
"Of course," Sabrina said, and then paused to take
a sip of her drink. "I’m glad you know what you prefer. That always makes
things easier. It will make going through your correspondence simpler as well.
Your secretary will be sorting out all the business first, I presume?"
"Yes, Henry is very good at handling my business
interests. Thank goodness. I don’t know how a body can manage myriad details of
business and society and still have time for one’s real interests." Ford
raked a hand through his freshly combed hair. He looked over at Sabrina,
sitting with her head tilted in interested contemplation.
It struck him that she would make a lovely wife. She was not
only beautiful to look at, but she had a good head on her shoulders too. He
found himself opening up to her easily. Conversing and telling her what was on
his mind, and she at least seemed genuinely interested in what he said. Most
women just chatted at him and had no interest in hearing what his thoughts
were.
"What days does Henry come in?" Sabrina asked.
"I have no idea," Ford answered, with a smile. "Personally,
I haven’t talked to him in weeks. That’s what makes him such a good secretary."
"I see," Sabrina said, frowning. "Where do
you suppose I should begin then? I don’t want to rifle through your desk
unnecessarily. You wouldn’t happen to know which stack is personal and which
one is business, would you?"
"There is only one way to find out," Ford said,
standing and offering his arm to Sabrina. "We’ll need to move our meeting
into the study and search my desk."
Mrs. Tremaine obliged him and slipped her delicate hand into
the crook of his arm. It was not exactly an intimate gesture, but for some
reason it felt exceedingly comfortable. As if they had done this a hundred
times before. Ford led them to his study where all of the business of his world
was conducted. It was much smaller than the library and had more of a lived in
feel to it. Papers, journals and account books cluttered the massive mahogany
desk. Shelves on two walls held decades worth of historical records that told
the story of the Northcliffe family and
her and look for the crack in her demeanor. He was sure he would be able to
distinguish the truth in both her words and actions.
Ten minutes later, Sabrina walked into the room looking as
breathtakingly beautiful and regal as Cleopatra herself. Ford stood and offered
her a glass of sherry.
"Yes, please," Sabrina said with a slight blush. "It’s
been quite a long day."
Ford poured the sweet wine and handed the tiny crystal glass
to her. They both sat, and while Sabrina arranged her skirts with her free
hand, Ford studied her. The plain, but fine clothes confused him. Certainly a
true lady would own similar garments, especially one who was recently out of
mourning. That was a flaw in his recent deductions. And her manners were
impeccable. He would need to study her more closely. Maybe a few carefully
worded questions would help him deduce her true identity.
"Were you able to locate the staff?" he began the
conversation at the simplest place. After all, it had been one of his major
concerns.
Sabrina laughed demurely and set her sherry on a piecrust
table. It was an infectious sound and sent a thrill through Ford’s body so that
he couldn’t help but laugh too.
"Yes, I found them all," she said, sitting
straight in her seat with her feet tucked very properly beneath her skirt, and
her hands elegantly folded. "And they are able and willing to return your
household to its earlier efficiency. I was even able to get a few projects
under way this afternoon. The ballroom is being opened up and by tomorrow we
shall know how many we can accommodate for a fete."
"A fete," Ford exclaimed. "So soon? I’m
afraid you are too efficient, Mrs. Tremaine. I’m not altogether ready for a
party just yet. Maybe a dinner or two would be more suited to my social
abilities at present."
"Of course," Sabrina said, and then paused to take
a sip of her drink. "I’m glad you know what you prefer. That always makes
things easier. It will make going through your correspondence simpler as well.
Your secretary will be sorting out all the business first, I presume?"
"Yes, Henry is very good at handling my business
interests. Thank goodness. I don’t know how a body can manage myriad details of
business and society and still have time for one’s real interests." Ford
raked a hand through his freshly combed hair. He looked over at Sabrina,
sitting with her head tilted in interested contemplation.
It struck him that she would make a lovely wife. She was not
only beautiful to look at, but she had a good head on her shoulders too. He
found himself opening up to her easily. Conversing and telling her what was on
his mind, and she at least seemed genuinely interested in what he said. Most
women just chatted at him and had no interest in hearing what his thoughts
were.
"What days does Henry come in?" Sabrina asked.
"I have no idea," Ford answered, with a smile. "Personally,
I haven’t talked to him in weeks. That’s what makes him such a good secretary."
"I see," Sabrina said, frowning. "Where do
you suppose I should begin then? I don’t want to rifle through your desk
unnecessarily. You wouldn’t happen to know which stack is personal and which
one is business, would you?"
"There is only one way to find out," Ford said,
standing and offering his arm to Sabrina. "We’ll need to move our meeting
into the study and search my desk."
Mrs. Tremaine obliged him and slipped her delicate hand into
the crook of his arm. It was not exactly an intimate gesture, but for some
reason it felt exceedingly comfortable. As if they had done this a hundred
times before. Ford led them to his study where all of the business of his world
was conducted. It was much smaller than the library and had more of a lived in
feel to it. Papers, journals and account books cluttered the massive mahogany
desk. Shelves on two walls held decades worth of historical records that told
the story of the Northcliffe family and
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