When Marlene stood in the middle of the study, she first noticed the fire burning in the grate, and then the candle that flickered on a large, mahogany desk. But it was the man seated behind the desk who drew her attention and made her breath catch.
Casually attired in a white shirt with ruffled cuffs and a black waistcoat with silver threading, he had dark hair pulled back in a queue. He was writing something in a ledger with a white feathered quill. The scratching of the quill was the only sound in the room other than the ormolu clock on the marble mantel and an occasional pop of a log in the grate.
She waited patiently for him to acknowledge her, but as the minutes ticked by, she started to wonder how long he intended to keep her waiting. She hadn’t been announced by the housekeeper, so perhaps he was so involved in his task that he didn’t even know she was standing there.
“Your rooms are on the second floor, next to those of my aunt. I will ensure that you receive a proper introduction in the morning. She is already abed at this late hour.”
He still didn’t look up, and something about his severe tone almost made her apologize for running late, but it wasn’t as though she had any control over the Royal mail. Thus, she remained silent and waited for him to say something else or dismiss her.
The scratching abruptly ceased, and his gaze lifted, piercing her with eyes so blue that they didn’t seem to be real. He regarded her steadily, and then he set down his pen and folded his hands before him. For a long time, he didn’t speak, but then he noted, “You’re quite young to be a companion. What is your age?”
“Two and twenty.” She decided it would be best not to remark on the other statement. She did, however, wonder how old he was. He didn’t look to be over thirty years of age, if even that, but since it wasn’t her place to pry, she held her tongue.
Those blue eyes continued to access her, and then he picked up the quill and dipped it in the inkwell next to the ledger. Before he started to write again, he said, “Mrs. Bates will show you to your quarters.”
As the scratching began again, Marlene wondered if she ought to curtsy as a respectful farewell, but since he wouldn’t be able to see her anyway, she turned on her heel and saw Mrs. Bates waiting for her in the doorway. Marlene had thought she’d left, but perhaps it was her own wishful thinking that she had done so.
She withheld a sigh. It wasn’t fair of her to judge so quickly. Without doubt, a bright new day would shed some light on her new surroundings, and she would likely find that she was unnerved because she was weary from her travels and nothing more.
Convinced that she had the right of it, she walked up a broad set of carpeted stairs with ornate newel posts in the shape of menacing dragons. Walking down a long hallway on the second floor, it wasn’t until they’d reached the last door on the right that the housekeeper stopped. She reached for the keyring about her waist and unlocked the door. Marlene thought it was odd that it should have been locked in the first place, but since she was already starting to feel that this was a peculiar house, she wasn’t all that surprised.
At first glance, with just the light of the fire to guide her way, it appeared finely furnished. A large four poster stood in the midst of the room and boasted blue velvet curtains and a satin counterpane. The drapes along the floor-to-ceiling French doors that led to a private balcony were the same. Marlene walked farther into the room and set her valise on the floor. Her trunks were already there, although she had no idea how the coachman had managed such a feat so quickly—and with the door locked.
She decided to push that curiosity out of her mind and just be thankful that she had a pleasant place to sleep, rather than a crowded inn. She turned back to the housekeeper who was still standing in the doorway. Marlene didn’t know if she was waiting to be dismissed or to hear her approval, so she did both. “It’s lovely. Thank you. I daresay I’m looking forward to a good night’s rest.”
Mrs. Bates inclined her head, and then she took her leave, but not before Marlene heard the decided click of a key in the lock, before footsteps headed back down the hallway. She frowned, wondering why she would be locked inside her room, but again, she decided perhaps it was for their own safety. They didn’t know her, and until she had earned their trust, they would likely be wary of her.
Marlene was grateful that a washstand and pitcher were in the room and the water was still warm. She sighed and started to disrobe, carefully laying her things on a nearby chair. She wasn’t certain if there was a chambermaid about who gathered the laundry, or if she was expected to do her own. She glanced around for a candle, or even a lantern, but there was nothing. She decided that she would make a list of things to discuss with Sir Gothry, including the door being locked, and hopefully, find time to approach him about her concerns. The quicker they were of the same understanding, the better it would be for everyone.
She wiped the dust and grime from her face, washing the rest of her body the best that she could, and then she slipped on her nightdress and brushed out her waist length hair. A slight breeze drifted about the chamber, but nothing too uncomfortable as yet. But by this winter, she would definitely have to ensure the fire was kept burning through the night. She had never been able to take the cold ever since she had been a child and caught a chill that had nearly ended her life. She’d been sick for over a month, the doctors using everything from leeches to bloodletting, until finally, she’d recovered. But she had been too close to death’s door for comfort.
Marlene climbed beneath the covers and pulled them up to her chin. Closing her eyes, she made herself concentrate on her breathing, while telling herself that everything would be well. There was nothing to fear. This was her new home, and it would take some time to adjust to her surroundings—and the people who lived within these walls.
She just had to take things slowly.
One day at a time.
Marlene awoke with a start. She sat up in bed, her heart lodged in her throat. She wasn’t sure what had disturbed her slumber, but she was quite sure something had. She looked about her room, searching every corner for something out of place. When she was confident that the room was empty, she looked at the grate. The fire had died down to a dull smolder. She wondered if perhaps the shifting logs had startled her awake.
She threw back the covers and padded over to the fireplace. Grabbing the poker that stood on a stand nearby, she poked at the remnants there, hoping that they would spark back to life. She managed to get them glowing again, but there wouldn’t be enough coal to last until the morning. That she knew for certain.
Standing, she rubbed her arms and looked about her once more. She couldn’t seem to shake the strange feeling that someone was there—that she was being watched.
When the floor outside her room creaked, she immediately glanced toward her door, expecting to see the shadow of someone’s shoes along the crack below. But there was nothing.
With a shiver, Marlene crossed over to the French doors. She tried one of the handles and found that it was unlocked. She opened it on a slight gust of wind that helped to fuel the fire in the grate even more. She walked out onto the balcony and breathed in the strong scent of heather from the valley below them. The stars twinkled overhead as a slight blanket of fog began to roll in across the fields.
The combination was intoxicating.
She stared out across the darkness for a time, and then one shadow seemed to separate itself from the rest. It didn’t take long for her to place that white shirt, nor the queue holding back Sir Gothry’s dark hair. He had intrigued her from the first moment she’d laid her eyes on him in his study, sitting behind that massive desk and appearing dangerous and virile.
As she watched him walk around the grounds now, as if his mind was weighted heavily with something, she wondered if he had gone to bed yet. She had no idea what hour it was, as there wasn’t a clock in her room, but it had surely been longer than a few minutes since she’d been asleep.
While she stood there pondering the time, Sir Gothry stopped mid-stride and slowly turned his head. Marlene gasped lightly as that blue gaze lit directly on her, as if it was a crystal clear, sunny day and he could actually see her standing there. Otherwise, it would surely be impossible to notice—unless, of course, he could see the fluttering drapes.
Melting back into the shadows, she carefully shut the terrace doors and backed into her room. She returned to her bed where she shivered beneath the covers—the sensation having nothing to do with the temperature in the room.
Closing her eyes with purpose, she found herself drifting off once more.
