Anne smiled in return. At least she could count on one friendly face.
“Miss Hart is the girls’ governess.”
Oh, of course.Naturally Colin had employed a governess for the motherless girls. A wave of relief washed over Anne that she wouldn’t be responsible for their lessons. Lessonswere so boring! She much preferred engaging with the girls in more amusing pursuits like chasing puppies and playing hide and seek. Although on second thought, those activities had led to unexpected outcomes.
Ellie shook Anne out of her wandering thoughts. “Miss Hart, Uncle Drake has a new puppy. He’s so adorable. Papa is going to let us have one!”
Colin’s attention jerked toward his daughter. “If memory serves, I said I wouldconsiderit. I made no promises.”
Ellie’s bottom lip protruded, and Anne expected her to burst into tears any moment. She would have to do something to secure the girls a puppy.
“Now, no more talk of puppies,” Colin said, his voice softening a touch. “Miss Hart, please take the girls and fetch them something to eat.”
Miss Hart held out her hands and led the girls inside, one on each side of her.
Anne and Colin followed them, as Colin delivered more orders to the staff.
“Why don’t you go with Mrs. Campbell, my dear? Refresh yourself, and I will meet you downstairs for tea.”
“Aren’t you going to show me around?” Anne hated the pleading tone of her question.
Mrs. Campbell stepped forward. “I will do that, my lady. His lordship has more important matters to attend to. Now, if you would follow me.”
As Anne followed the dour-faced woman, she suppressed the urge to stick her tongue out behind the woman’s back. It helped that she became too busy taking in her new surroundings. The interior of the home also appeared well-maintained and not the dark, gloomy castle she had imagined when she’d first heard the name Blackthorne Manor. Lighter colors adorned the parlor walls, and fragrant flowers were artfully arranged in vases on the tables. Anne found the feminine touch surprising and found little she wished to change.
At least until they entered the library. Musty books lined the shelves made of dark wood. Heavy dark-green brocade drapes linedthe windows and cast the room in shadows. A suit of armor stood at attention in the corner. As Mrs. Campbell droned on about Colin’s ancestor, Anne remembered Colin mentioning the first Marquess of Stratford.
Mrs. Campbell leaned in and whispered, “Legend has it his wife murdered him, and they say at night you can hear him roaming the halls in search of vengeance.”
When Anne shuddered from an unexpected chill, she kept her gaze on the knight and watched for movement. Luckily, he remained stationary as Mrs. Campbell led her from the library to proceed up the staircase to the bedchambers.
Bright tapestries hanging from the walls tempered the stiff portraits of people she didn’t know. If Colin commissioned a portrait of her, she would request Victor Pratt be awarded the position. His rendering of Juliana was playful and fun and captured Juliana perfectly.
She stopped at the top of the long stairway, frozen in place by the portrait of a stunningly beautiful woman. “Who is that, Mrs. Campbell?”
“That is Lady Manning. Forgive me. Your predecessor, Margery Hawthorne Bell, the previous Lady Manning.” Mrs. Campbell didn’t appear to be the least bit sorry for failing to recognize Anne as the new mistress. The woman sighed and, to Anne’s shock, actually smiled as she gazed at the portrait. “She was a beauty, wasn’t she? And the kindest of souls. So dignified and graceful. The perfect mistress and viscountess. She would have made an exemplary marchioness.”
Anne’s stomach dropped when the woman turned back and raked an assessing gaze over her, clearly finding the new Lady Manning...lacking.
The moment Mrs. Campbellescorted Anne inside, Colin retreated to his study. He needed to think, and being confined in a carriage with Anne for over four hours had donenothing for his peace of mind. Not when a war raged inside him between the fear over his father’s health and the overwhelming desire for his wife.
How could he think of his own selfish needs when his father might be dying?
He collapsed into the chair at his desk and ran his hands down his face. The events of the last two days weighed heavily on him, and his whole body ached from exhaustion. In the silence of his sanctuary, he soaked up the comfort of home. The familiar smell of the small collection of books, the feel of the leather blotter on the desktop against his fingers, the inkpot with a silver plate engraved with his initials that Margery had given him one Christmastide, the steadytick-tick-tickof the clock on the hearth’s mantel.
After a heavy sigh, he pulled out a piece of foolscap to pen a letter and withdraw his name as an MP candidate.
Pen poised above the paper, the instrument felt heavy in his hand, as if it, too, was reluctant to give up on the dream.
His family lineage stretched back centuries. Would King William actually refuse the well-respected Marquess of Stratford’s request? Colin clung to a thin hope.
A fat drop of ink fell to the paper and marred its creamy surface.
Colin grunted a derisive chuckle. Marred like his hopes.
Yet even as Colin accepted his fate to serve in Lords as Baron Amesworth and continue to live in his father’s shadow, Anne’s question pinged in his mind.
What about the manyouwant to be?
