Now, more than ever, she had to be on her guard. Just because romantic feelings had existed between them at one point was no reason why there should be any question of it now. She had a reputation to protect and a child to raise, not to mention she was reinventing her entire existence. And as lovely as her memories of her time with Anthony were, recent events compelled her never to enter back into a romantic attachment of any sort. That chapter of her life was closed—it was a prison to which she refused to return.
The door to the porch scraped open, and then heavy boots fell on the stone floor. The door creaked closed once again, and Anthony appeared in one of the arches separating the screens passage from the great hall.
She’d anticipated the sight that would meet her as he entered the hall, but even so, her breath caught. Deep-blue eyes met hers, as she’d expected, but it was the start of a beard on his chin and jaw that altered his appearance the most. It covered the boyishruddiness and garnered a more mysterious, if not roguish, appearance. Gone was the gentleness in his expression and the easy smile she remembered so well.
His scar ran from his ear down his jaw and disappeared into his neckcloth. The sight tightened her stomach. Shehadcared about him. Very deeply. The thought of him wounded—and having endured the injury that put such a scar there—ached.
He did not speak for several seconds, as if he was accustomed to the fact that people would notice the scar, and gave her a moment to digest it.
“Mrs.Prior,” he greeted casually, swiping his hat from his head and stepping farther into the great hall. “Where is the boy?”
“Henry’s with my maid, sleeping, while she settles things upstairs. Is there something you need?”
He looked over his shoulder before refocusing on her. “I think you and I should talk.”
Nerves burned through her, each breath firing memories of this man. Of their affection for each other and the sadness of separating from him.
But she had to push that aside. Because, of course, he was right.
If this arrangement was to be successful, they could not carry on as if nothing had transpired between them. Under any other circumstance, she’d refuse to let her guard down or engage any genuine emotion. It was a strategy she’d perfected when married. Such tactics would be insufficient now, for she’d had no respect for her husband. But Anthony was different—he’d once held the key to her heart.
She nodded. “Very well.”
His voice was as steady and cool as it had been when they were discussing the grounds the previous day. “I hope my presence here is not an intrusion, given our past acquaintance. I was unaware thatyouwere Mrs.Prior until the day of the assignment. If you would rather I not be here, I will request a reassignment.”
Silence—along with its crushing expectation for her response—once again reclaimed the room.
How like him the question was. Blunt and succinct. He’d always been a direct person—and certain about his plans. His opinions. His intentions.
She shook her head. “What I think or want in this particular situation does not matter, Mr.Welbourne. This arrangement is my brother-in-law’s doing. Not mine.”
***
Anthony allowed his gaze to linger on Charlotte longer than he should have. Her thick chestnut hair was gathered in a plait down her back, and she wore a white linen apron over a high-necked, long-sleeved gown. Shadows balanced beneath her red-rimmed topaz eyes, but alertness brightened her expression.
She’d failed to answer his question.
What was more, he did not recall her being so difficult to read.
He refused to let the topic drop. “Itdoesmatter what you want. This is your home.”
“The agreement has been made, Mr.Welbourne. We can only hope that this ordeal will be behind us very soon and each of us can go on about our lives.”
Her words were austere, her tone inscrutable.
He suddenly felt foolish for inquiring.
Perhaps the memory of what they had shared weighed heavier on him than on her. Perhaps his recollections of their relationship were far more intense than hers.
In this moment the morning light lingered on the soft angles of her narrow face. How explicitly he recalled each one. There had been a time when the caress of his hand would have been welcome there, when he’d kissed that smooth cheek. Her soft golden eyes, as sharp and vibrant as ever, were fixed on him, but her tightened expression lacked the warmth he remembered. He might still regard her with fondness and even affection, but she clearly did not return the sentiment. Could he blame her? She’d married another, and any nostalgic attitude would not be welcome. What was more, it would be inappropriate.
Her sharp words returned them to conversation. “Perhaps I should pose the option to you. If you’re uncomfortable here, given the unique relationship between our families, then I will think nothing of it if you ask to be reassigned.”
“This is my profession, Mrs.Prior. Personal circumstances will never affect my judgment.”
An awkward quietude hovered in the tall room, as if it were an active participant, daring someone to speak next.
Then Charlotte pressed her lips together. It was a sign he recognized—an expression she used to make when she was uncertain or uncomfortable.
