Annie raised her brows as they set off toward the door. “Who haven’t I met?”
A duke, a duchess, a dowager-countess, two uncles, two more aunts, and three cousins later, Annie sank gratefully onto a gold damask settee and placed her teacup on the small adjacent table. A hum of conversation continued around her, but Annie, for now at least, was happy to listen rather than engage.
“Exhausted?” Julian muttered, taking his place beside her.
She nodded. “And overwhelmed.”
“You were marvelous,” he said, keeping his voice low.
“I was terrified of putting a foot wrong.”
“Like I said, you were marvelous. You even managed to make Grandmama Hutton smile. Quite the feat.”
“I like her. She’s very regal.”
“That she is.”
“And am I right in thinking that your cousin Catherine outranks her parents?”
“She outranks all of us,” Julian replied. “When circumstances allow, I’ll tell you her story. It merits telling.”
“I shall look forward to that. Anyway, they were all very gracious.”
Julian gave her a sideways glance. “With one exception, in my opinion.”
Annie barely hesitated. “Your cousin Adam?”
“You noticed.”
“I got the impression he didn’t approve of me.”
“He can be a pompous ass at times, especially when he’s had one or two, which is most days.”
Annie nodded her understanding and barely fought off a yawn. “Oh, goodness. Excuse me.”
“It’s all that fresh air,” Julian said, getting to his feet and holding out his hand. “Come on, my dear. I’ll have someone show you to your room. Dinner isn’t till eight. Plenty of time for a nap.”
Annie opened her mouth to argue, but the thought of a nap was simply too enticing to ignore. “Are you sure? I mean, is it acceptable?” she asked, rising to her feet.
“Almost mandatory.” He winked and squeezed her hand lightly. “Don’t worry. I’ll make your excuses.”
A short while later, having promised to escort her to dinner that evening, Julian handed Annie off to Elsa, a rosy-cheeked maid whose smile never faded as they bustled their way up the stairs and along a corridor.
“Here you are, miss,” Elsa said, opening a large, paneled door and standing to the side. “Do you need help undressing?”
“Oh, no, thank you, Elsa. I can manage.”
The maid nodded. “Very good, miss. The room has been readied for a guest, but if there’s anything else you require, the bellpull is next to the bed.”
“Thank you,” Annie said again, taking only a couple of steps over the threshold before coming to a halt. Behind her, the door closed with a quiet click, but Annie still didn’t move. Frozen in place, she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. She ended up doing both, her eyes watering, and the laugh, which sounded more like a hiccup, stifled by her hand.
This couldn’t be her room. Elsa must have made a mistake. Then again, it did have a bed in it. An enormous bed, in fact, with an intricately-carved, four-poster canopy, hung with pale gold damask curtains which matched the counterpane. But there was more yet.
The occupant might, instead, choose to sit on the moss-green velvet settee, or perhaps recline on the matching chaise-longue, and admire the tapestries and gilt-framed landscapes decorating the creamy damask walls. And, though dormant at this time of year, the black marble fireplace, centered on the opposite wall, promised warmth on a winter’s night. As for the armoire, standing against the wall to Annie’s right, it was the grandest she’d ever seen.
But it was the large window, elegantly framed in the same gold fabric, that pulled Annie farther into the room, a single question arising in her mind. What might she see beyond it?
Could it be?
