Except, she could not remember why.
“Join me,” Lucian insisted as he poured another glass, not waiting for her to accept.
“Thank you,” Eliza murmured as she crossed to accept the glass.
What was wrong with her? Where did this timidity come from? Had the storm shaken her so much that she was no longer herself or was it simply seeing Lucian in shirtsleeves and trousers, and bare feet? Or, perhaps it was both, but she needed to gain control of her emotions, whatever they happened to be.
There really was no reason for the awkwardness between them. Further, this setting was no more intimate than when they were in the parlor below, or when he had visited her at Greenhaven Cottage. Just because bedchambers were near should not matter.
Lucian cradled the glass of brandy and wandered to the window and looked out and Eliza joined him. Rain pelted the windowpanes and tree limbs bent in the wind as twigs and leaves danced in the air. Her chest became tight with anxiety and she hastily took a sip of brandy and became irritated with herself because her hands shook.
Below, a chair toppled over on the terrace and a moment later footmen were rushing about gathering up the furniture and pulling it closer to the house.
Lightning streaked across the sky just before thunder cracked and Eliza nearly jumped.
“How often does it storm like this?” If it was frequent, she might need to leave Wyndhill Park and find a cottage in the center of England. Storms were always worst along the coast. Or so she believed since the only bad storms that she had ever experienced had been when she was near beaches.
“A couple of times a year,” he answered. “We get rain often enough as does the whole of England,” he chuckled. “It is not unusual to have storms like this living where we do. Some are short-lived. Others can continue for a few days.”
Eliza gulped at the idea that this could last for more than an afternoon. “I used to enjoy storms,” she said quietly.
“Does that mean you no longer take pleasure in them?”
“As a girl I would enjoy going out and dancing in the rain and feel the wind rush around me. Now that I’m more mature, I understand the danger that comes with being in such elements, especially when there’s lightning about.”
“So now you admire them from the safety of a window.”
“I suppose I do.” Though she wouldn’t consider it admire, more abhor.
At another crack of thunder, Eliza jerked and clenched her jaw. It was only a storm and she was safe within the manor, except she should not be standing near a window when the glass could be struck by debris and they could be injured. Not that she had seen any fly this high.
She finished the brandy then placed the glass back on the sideboard. “I think I will rest before dinner.” Eliza quickly exited the sitting room, her heart pounding and hands shaking.
Once she closed the door, Eliza looked around the sleeping chamber and found a chair nestled in a far corner. There she retreated and watched the storm through the window from the other side of the room.
Chapter16
Lucian escortedEliza into the dining room still puzzled by her behavior this afternoon. She had not behaved at all like herself. A woman who he thought feared nothing had been scared enough that her hands shook and he wanted to know why. Children were frightened by storms, not grown women.
However, he waited until the footman had placed the meal before them and retreated, leaving them privacy before he asked.
“Why do storms frighten you?”
Eliza glanced up, the spoon partially to her lips. “They make me uncomfortable,” she answered and then looked away and finished eating.
“You jumped,” he reminded her.
“I was startled by the sharp and sudden clap of thunder when I had been used to the mild rumblings.”
“Your hands shook,” Lucian pointed out.
Eliza blew out a sigh and set her spoon aside. “You will think me silly.”
She truly was frightened of something, Lucian thought with amazement. In truth, she had been alarmed after she learned that the person sending the letters had been in her home and shaken the first time she received a missive from him in the post, but her reaction to the storm was worse, or so it seemed.
“I promise that I will not,” he assured her.
“I could have been killed by a tempest,” she answered. “Others in the village claim that it was a tornado. I did not see it myself.”
