“Is there something that you do not like about the story?” she asked.
“Not just this one, Eliza.” He closed the book and set it aside. “Am I a recurring character in each of your books?”
When the hue of her cheeks deepened to a red, Lucian had his answer. Now he just needed to decide if he was going to be angry about her portrayal or change Eliza’s mind as to how she viewed him.
Eliza glanced awayand dipped her quill in the inkpot. “Why would you think such?”
“The grumpy auburn-haired earl, living alone who doesn’t allow visitors and becomes angry when the heroine trespasses. That character.”
Her face grew even hotter. It wasn’t until her fifth story that Eliza realized that she had made Lucian a character. She could have stopped adding him to stories, whether hero or villain, but he always found a way onto the pages, a recurring character with a different name and purpose, but there, nonetheless. Oddly, nobody had ever commented until now. But did she admit to Lucian that the character was based on him?
Did it do any good to deny that fact?
“Is that how you see me? Grumpy?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted while she tried not to smile. “Disagreeable, autocratic, and difficult would be other descriptions,” Eliza admitted.
“I am surprised that I am not made the villain more often,” he grumbled.
“I do apologize,” she finally said. “I honestly had not realized that you were an inspiration, but apparently, my previous visit to Wyndhill Park certainly motivated a certain character.” This time she didn’t attempt to hide her grin.
“Yes, well, did it ever occur to you that the person you used for your muse might be insulted?”
He set his cup in the saucer then stood before he stomped from the parlor.
Goodness! Eliza had not meant to upset him. She truly hadn’t and now Lucian was angry.
With a deep sigh, she set her quill aside and rose to go after him, except Lucian had not gone to his library, nor was he located anywhere else in the manor.
“Where is Lord Garretson?” she finally asked the butler.
“He has gone to the stables. I believe he wished to ride.”
“In the rain?” How angry was he?
“He has done so before,” the butler answered calmly. “It is not a storm, but a light rain.”
She supposed he was correct, but Eliza would not be able to relax until Lucian returned and she apologized even though she was not sorry for including him in every story.
Though she attempted to return to her manuscript, concentration was impossible, so she set her work aside and wandered the manor for something to occupy her mind and found nothing.
Not even Stella was available to keep her company and Eliza found herself at a loss for what to do and her anxiety only grew with each hour that passed.
Where had he gone? Why hadn’t Lucian returned? Had he fallen from his horse and was injured?
Two hours was far too long, or so she assumed.
Worse, the rain had not let up and remained steady, which only added to her dark mood.
With a sigh, she climbed the stairs, not certain what she would do up there, but hoped that she would find something to distract her since she could not walk outside.
Once she reached the sitting room, Eliza entered and walked to the window and stared out over the landscape. Where was he and why hadn’t he returned? Worse, why wasn’t anyone else concerned?
Chapter27
Lucian had intendedto only ride a short distance, and on the road because he didn’t want to ride the land in this rain and risk his horse losing his footing on slick grass. Instead, he rode into the village and dismounted at theCrooked Swan, the ale house that he often frequented. He had always wondered how it got such a name and maybe one day he would ask. Except, he also didn’t really care.
After Lucian left his horse in the mews so that it was not standing in the rain waiting, he went inside to find a table at the back and ordered an ale.
