Apsley glared at me before returning his focus to Annette. “I’ve rid myself of one, Netty. How many more are there?”
Her brows puckered. “More of what? Honestly, Russell, what are you on about? You sound mad.”
“If I am, it is because I was given you for a sister,” he muttered.
“Well, I wish you a speedy recovery from the ailment. The lieutenant and I are for the gardens. I am giving him a tour.” She leaned toward Apsley and sucked in a deep breath. Her exaggerated grimace drew out another bout of my laughter. Annette patted her brother’s shoulder, her lips pursed with faux sympathy. “I would suggest you take a bath, Russell. And switch colognes.”
He sneered back at her. I was impressed that Annette did not allow her grin to show until she had stepped past him. She waggled her brows at me in a conspiratorial manner, and something more than amusement swelled in my chest, killing the guilt I had for betraying Apsley. I offered her my arm, and my muscles tightened when she held it securely, pressing herself against me. Her perfume chased away any residual odor of the cuckoo-pint, instead filling my lungs with the scent of lavender.
I breathed in deeply.
“Shall we?” she asked, looking up at me curiously, as if she’d noticed.
I nodded, and we headed for the door. The butler opened it for us, but we did not proceed through until Annette had thrown one last comment over her shoulder.
“Oh, Russell. In case you were wondering, my favorite number is seven.” She smiled sweetly.
Apsley scowled. “Seven?You little…”
The rest of his words were too garbled to hear as he raced up the stairs, presumably to his bedchamber. I wondered how long it would take him to locate all seven flowers. I supposed that depended on where Annette had hidden them. Had I thought she might confide the information, I would have asked. Instead, we shared a smile, and I led her outside.
The sun had warmed the air significantly, and the chill of morning had dispersed. Our pace to the back of the house and through the gardens remained leisurely, neither of us seeming too eager to reach our destination with haste. We spoke more of Kenwick’s history, and I was quite content to listen to Annette’s enthusiastic oration, save for interrupting with the occasional question, which she did not seem to mind.
We stopped in the archway between The Towers, and Annette retrieved a key from her dress pocket. Each side of the building had its own door, and she approached the left side and inserted the key. “My mother gave me the key this morning,” she said, seeming to sense my question before I could ask. “The Towers are typically kept locked unless they are in use.”
She pushed the door open, and I followed her inside. We entered a small vestibule with pale green walls and several large paintings. From there, she gave me a tour of the ground floor, which held a small drawing room, parlor, and study. The first floor, accessible only by the winding staircase near the vestibule, contained two bedrooms.
“I do not believe I have ever seen a gatehouse with rooms like this,” I said, studying the hanging tapestry in the largest room.
“According to Father, my grandfather added to the original gatehouse when he restored it. Only the western side has rooms. The east side is nothing more than a tower, though a rather large one. I’m told there is a room at the top. Nothing so grand as a bedroom. It is likely storage.”
I turned to face her. “Likely? Have you not been up there?”
She shook her head. “Not since I was a child. This key does not open the east tower.”
Curious. I crossed to the window and stared down at the extensive gardens between The Towers and Kenwick Castle. I could see the appeal of using the building to house guests. It was comfortable and cozy with splendid views. Autumn colors made the gardens beautiful, but I imagined the scene pretty no matter the season. A second window to my right allowed a view of the gardens beyond the gatehouse.
It was a shame Willowbrook Manor rested to the east. The windows from the other tower might have given me a vantage point to observe the place from afar rather than trespassing. Would Lord Paxton have the key? Perhaps he would allow me to use the other tower, or at the very least, to check whether the vantage point might prove helpful.
I tucked the idea away, determined to ask the viscount about it later, and turned to face Annette. She was still staring out the window, a look of contentment in her soft expression. My eyes traced the lines of her face, the gentle curve of her cheekbone and neck. Gads, but the woman was beautiful.
I cleared my throat, pulling my gaze to the window. “You said your parents often use this tower?”
“They do. It’s like their home away from home, I think. A place for a respite, where they can be together without interruption from children.”
I chuckled. “A romantic hideaway.”
A smile pulled at her lips. “I suppose so.”
“You believe in romance, then?”
At this, her attention swung to me. Her brows furrowed. “Of course. How could I not? My parents have always been rather open in their regard for one another.”
I had seen as much myself, but still, I had wondered if Annette was blind to it. “Forgive me. It is only that I thought perhaps you did not, and that is why you’ve no intention of marrying.”
Her expression hardened. “A strange thing to assume given that many marriages are not built on love.”
“True enough; however, most are open to the possibility of it. Even marriages of convenience can grow into love, if not mutual respect and affection. Would you not consider one?”
