“Harrogate?” Her father gave her an odd look. “I couldn’t say, Annie. Doesn’t ring any bells, though, I’m afraid.”
“Oh.” Annie bit her lip again, trying, and failing, to visualize the precise position of the county on a map of England. “But you must remember the name of the place, surely.”
“No, I do not. I do not believe I was ever aware of it, in fact. I was never there, you see. Sybil came to collect you and escorted you there herself, since I could not leave your mother.” His expression hardened, as did his voice. “Nor does it matter, since both of them are long gone. I only recall that it was a sad time, one I prefer not to dwell upon.”
Annie stifled a sigh of frustration. “I understand, Papa. I just hoped you might be able to shed a litt—”
A knock on the door interrupted whatever remained of the conversation, and Bridget entered with a tea tray. “Shall I pour, Miss Annabelle?”
“No, I’ll pour,” Annie replied, rising. “Thank you, Bridget.”
Bridget set the tray on the nearby sideboard, gave Annie a sympathetic smile, and left. Silence then descended, disturbed only by the clink of a teaspoon as Annie stirred a sprinkle of sugar into her father’s tea. She turned and halted, overwhelmed by a sudden rush of compassion as she regarded him. He appeared to be examining the sleeping-cap she’d purchased for him, turning it over and over in his hands. Yet she had the distinct impression his thoughts were elsewhere. Nowhere pleasant, either, judging by the lost expression on his face.
Annie smothered another sigh and silently cursed her thoughtlessness. What did it matter, really, where her long-deceased aunt used to live? The question had only arisen because of a brief encounter with a charming stranger who, in mere minutes, had somehow managed to instill a foolish ache of attraction in her heart. Foolish, yes, and worthless besides. Under different circumstances, their meeting mighthave led to something more substantial.But my destiny lies elsewhere and I’m quite happy about it.She straightened her shoulders. Yes, quite happy.
“Forgive me, Papa.” She approached, set his teacup on the small table at his side, and bent to kiss his cheek. “I should not have upset you. It was thoughtless of me.”
“Oh, that’s all right, my dear.” He tutted and shook his head. “I must also beg your forgiveness. Some memories are simply too painful to recall.”
“I understand, of course.” She lifted an errant strand of silver hair from his brow and patted it into place. “Now, drink your tea, and then perhaps you should take a nap. In case you’ve forgotten, Leo will be joining us for dinner this evening.”
“No, I hadn’t forgotten.” A frown appeared, followed by the clearing of his throat. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to speak to you about Leo. More specifically, the marriage.”
Annie blinked. “What of it?”
“I need to be assured you are happy with the arrangement.”
An obscure little tingle shot across her scalp. “I don’t understand, Papa.”
Her father leaned forward, his gaze now intense and searching. “Do you have any misgivings about marrying the fellow, Annie? If so, you must tell me now, before it’s too late.”
Misgivings?Annie knew Hattie disapproved of the match, but now her father was questioning it as well? “I’m not sure how to respond, Papa. I haven’t really thought about it. Leo has always been a part of my future.”
“Yes, because the union was arranged years ago, when you were children. It was never, however, an agreement set in stone. Frederick, may God rest his soul, was a dear friend and colleague, and it seemed fitting at the time to foresee his son and my daughter wed to one another. But Fred has been gone twelve years now, and your mother fifteen.” Frowning, he looked away for a moment. “Muriel was alwaysa touch ambivalent about the arrangement, as I recall. I’m not sure she ever took it seriously.” His gaze snapped back to her. “I need to know what lies in your heart, child. Do you truly care for Leopold? Love him, even?”
The unexpected questions took Annie aback. “Why, yes, of course, Papa. I…” Her brain stumbled over several responses.Yes, I care for him. Indisputably.And I love him, too. I’m sure I do. I always have.
Certainly, when Leo had gone to work for his uncle in Prussia four years ago, Annie’s young heart had entertained a fairytale impression of love-lost. She had even wept for several nights afterward. But, in hindsight, her sorrow had not been overly taxing and had soon ebbed. Leo, as promised, had written to her fairly regularly. Well, at first anyway. Annie had looked forward to his epistles, which, for the most part, detailed his daily life in the city of Berlin, aiding his uncle and cousin in their tobacco import business. His descriptions of the city, along with the Prussian traditions and culture, fascinated her. While his penned voice was friendly rather than poetic, he always signed off with “affectionately yours.”
As time passed, the weekly letters from Leo dwindled to maybe two a month, and then one every few weeks. By that time, each letter included an apology for the lengthy gaps in his correspondence, attributed to his workload due to the ongoing success of his uncle’s business. Despite Leo’s lapses, however, Annie had continued to write to him faithfully once a week. The past eighteen months had seen but a dozen responses from him, the last three months ago, which had arrived soon after Annie had written to tell him of her father’s illness. It appeared Leo had responded with haste, writing to say he was, at last, returning to England.
He’d arrived not quite a fortnight after his letter.
Annie silently admitted she’d entertained afewreservations since his return. Nothing more than some little whispers of uncertainty here and there, all without any real foundation. The youthful, carefree boyshe remembered had been replaced by a man with a more serious and assertive disposition that could be a little intimidating at times. He was still as handsome as ever though, and unquestionably charming.
An image of him slid into her mind, standing before the fireplace where she now sat. Tall and slender of form, clad in his usual dark garb, sandy-blond hair impeccably groomed, thumb tucked nonchalantly into his vest pocket. Then Leo’s image faded, and was replaced by the one of Julian Northcott walking away from her not even twenty minutes before. She blinked the image away and supplied her father with an emphatic response. “Yes, of course I love Leo,” she announced, aware of a sudden warm flush upon her cheeks, “and I’m sure he loves me too.”
Yet her words sounded hollow, somehow. Lacking substance.
“It bothers me you had to think about it,” her father replied, looking unconvinced.
“With respect, Papa, it bothers me you thought it necessary to ask the question,” she countered. “It took me by surprise.”
He groaned softly. “Forgive me, my dear. I perhaps should not be asking such things. Maybe it’s because the fellow has been away these past four years, yet not once did he take the time to visit us. Germany is not the end of the world, after all. Even now, his return appears to have been prompted solely upon hearing of my illness. If not for that, he might still be abroad. And he has yet to fully explain how he means to support you.”
“I think he has explained it well enough, Papa,” Annie replied. “Even as we speak, he is visiting a couple of potential properties which might serve as the new London location for his uncle’s business, of which he will be the manager.”
“Yes, yes, but it all seems to be…” He grimaced and waved a hand, as if searching for what to say. “Convenient. Oh, I don’t know, Annie. He is not the young man I remember, though I cannot quite say what has changed.”
