“It may be small, but it has a balcony.” He pointed to the narrow door that led out to it.
Then he frowned at the basin—empty save a dried spider—and the single towel beside it. “I’ll ask one of the chambermaids to bring up water and fresh towels.”
“Thank you.” She extracted a coin from her reticule and handed it to him.
“Appreciate it, miss. Enjoy your stay.”
Rebecca summoned a feeble smile in return. “I hope to.”
After he left, she removed her bonnet, laid out her dinner dress to smooth its wrinkles, and set her toiletries on the dressing table. Even though she bemoaned the cost of the room, she found herself nervously excited about being in the hotel, especially with Sir Frederick Wilford staying there as well.
Frederick went to look in on the young thoroughbred he was boarding at the abbey stables. He wanted the convenience of being able to ride—and to leave the abbey—whenever he wished. After so much solitude over the last few years he was unaccustomed to being surrounded by people, and quickly wearied of having to make polite conversation. Moreover, he was not a man made for sitting about, chatting aimlessly or playing cards—pastimes his brother seemed to relish. Give him a blood horse, clear skies, and miles of good road any day.
Reaching the stall, he saw his chestnut stallion munching contentedly from a feed bucket. The horse looked up, nickering in recognition.
The scene took Frederick back to the many hours he’d spent in the Wickworth stable over the years, often with a young Rebecca Lane for company.
He’d always had an affinity for the spirited girl with the big hazel eyes, the firstborn of his beloved tutor, Mr. Arthur Lane.
When she had shown every interest, and her parents had not objected, Frederick had taught her to ride and care for horses. Rebecca had taken to it quickly and was a natural-born rider. She also possessed a keen mind and had borne his lessons—first in riding, later in chess and other games—with patient interest, far more so than Thomas ever had.
But later, when Frederick met and fell in love with the beautiful Miss Seward, he had drifted apart from the Lane family. Compared to spending time with an alluring woman, games and rides with an adolescent girl held little appeal.
Rebecca had clearly been hurt by his dismissal and inattention, but what could he do? The time had come to take a wife,and thoughts of Rebecca Lane had faded. She was just a girl, he’d told himself. She would get over her disappointment, grow up, and someday meet a love of her own.
But now ...?
Rebecca Lane was a little girl no longer. As Thomas had said, she had grown up very well, and grown remarkably pretty. He had seen her in passing over the years since his marriage and across the church two Christmases ago. But meeting her again now, close up, and after a long absence, he could find little trace of the precocious girl he had known. Instead he saw an elegant, well-spoken, and well-traveled woman.
For the first time in years, the rusty hinges of his shuttered heart gave an experimental creak.
No.He pressed his eyes shut and his heart with it.
Rebecca was still young and innocent. She deserved better, far better, than a disillusioned widower nearly ten years her senior with bitter experience and a sullied soul.
With sunlight spilling through the window into her tidy, simple room, Rebecca’s earlier visions of the abbey—dark and dangerous—began to fade.
Pushing aside her uneasiness about what John had asked her to do, she decided that as soon as she was settled, she would explore the hotel. Having seen the beautifully renovated great hall, she wanted to see more of this place that had once seemed forbidden and frightening.
While awaiting the maid, Rebecca tried the balcony door, which opened with a cranky whine of disuse. The narrow, wrought-iron balcony overlooked the abbey gardens and held one small, ornate chair of the same material. Perhaps she mightsit out there at some point, or even explore the gardens below, but first she wanted to see more of the abbey itself.
The chambermaid arrived with a pitcher of warm water, towels, and a friendly smile.
Rebecca recognized her with surprise. “Mary?”
The young woman looked up, eyes widening. “Miss Lane! Whatever are you doing here?”
“I am...” She faltered. What was she doing there, when her brother lived in a perfectly adequate house less than two miles away?
“I amsoglad to see you, Mary,” she said in a rush, sidestepping the question. “We miss you at the lodge.”
Mary Hinton had been employed by them as a housemaid, assisting Rose, until they could no longer afford to keep two servants.
“I did not know you had a place here,” Rebecca added. “I thought you had taken one with the Griffiths?”
The girl nodded. “I had. But this one pays better, so I gave my notice and came here. Must be nearly a year ago now.”
“Are you enjoying the position?”
