A CALLER’S CURIOUS REQUEST
An hour later, Norwick House, Mayfair
Ensconced in the parlor with an embroidery hoop and a steaming cup of tea, Danielle Fitzwilliam was about to take her first stitch in the stretched pristine white muslin in the middle of the hoop when Belvedere cleared his throat.
“You have a caller, my lady,” he announced from the doorway.
Surprised at the interruption, Danielle nearly dropped the needle. Her gaze went to the clock on the mantel.
Eleven o’clock in the morning.
Who paid calls at this time of the day?
She supposed she shouldn’t be too surprised. Lady Aimsley had left her mother’s company only a few moments ago, the two engaged in what appeared to be a serious conversation. Although she had tried to listen in from beyond the parlor door, she had been unable to make out their words. She had noticed her father—the ghost of her real father—casually leaning near the opposite window from the door. He was obviously near enough to overhear everything the two countesses were saying, but his position in the room kept him out of sight from Lady Aimsley.
Danielle hadn’t yet decided what she thought of the ghost. He wasn’t frightening in the least, but then he hadn’t attempted to speak with her directly. She had a thought to engage him in a conversation about her desire to live an independent life. Perhaps he would encourage her uncle to let her have her inheritance early.
Her short reverie was interrupted when the butler inhaled and said, “Lord Andrew Comber.”
Had Belvedere overheard her thoughts?
“He apologizes for the early call but said he knows you’re usually up and about by this time.”
Oh, does he now?Danielle almost replied. But another part of her thrilled at the thought that one of her contemporaries—one she hadn’t seen since he was home for the Christmastide—would think to pay a call on her. Especially today, given her sister was in the middle of her riding lesson with the Norwick House groom. Although Danielle could ride and did so on occasion, Dahlia enjoyed it far more and insisted she be allowed to ride a few times a week.
“I’ll be right down,” Danielle replied, setting the hoop atop her sewing basket.
She was halfway to the door when she stutter-stepped, remembering the date.
Why ever would Andrew Comber be in London in March?She wouldn’t have expected him home from Cambridge until he finished his studies. Unless he had to return to London for some sort of emergency.
Some sort of family issue.
Resuming her quick steps, Danielle descended the stairs much like she would have as a child, holding her skirts up well above her ankles. Deciding she would appear much too anxious if she didn’t slow down, she deliberately paused at the bottom of the stairs to shake out her skirts and take a slow breath.
Andrew was admiring a painting in the vestibule, his profile angled up slightly. A top hat was tucked under one arm, but he wasn’t wearing a great coat.
“Andrew?” she said quietly, not sure if she should expect sorrow or happiness. Sometimes, when they were with their group of friends—fellow heirs and daughters of peers—she would greet him as friends did in France, kissing him on both his cheeks as he did the same to her.
They were alone now, though, and she dared not attempt it if he was the bearer of bad news.
Andrew turned and regarded her a moment before he bowed. “Lady Danielle,” he murmured as he took her hand in his and brushed his lips over the back of it. “So good of you to receive me,” he added. “I know it’s early for me to be calling.” He didn’t immediately let go of her hand, but held onto it.
“Is everything all right?” Danielle asked, her gaze taking in his dark hair and sapphire eyes. He looked much like his father, and if he’d been grinning, there would have been a hint of mischief in his handsome features. Although he bore a pleasant expression, he definitely wasn’t smiling.
“As well as can be expected,” he answered, a wince crossing his features.
Alarm had Danielle furrowing a dark brow. “Would you like to come have tea with me in the parlor?” She glanced around. “I can send for my lady’s maid—”
“Will you come for a walk with me instead? In the park? We won’t go far.” He still held onto her hand, and gripped it tighter as he practically begged for her company.
Danielle blinked and then glanced down at her day gown, about to say she would need a few minutes to change into a walking gown and half boots.
“You needn’t change your clothes. We won’t go far,” he repeated on a sigh. When she glanced down at the hand that held hers, he suddenly let go as if he’d been burned. “The rain has stopped, and the sun is out. It’s quite a brilliant day.”
“All right,” she finally acquiesced, reaching for her redingote. The navy blue superfine didn’t exactly match the cobalt of her day gown, but something in Andrew’s manner had her deciding it wasn’t important. He helped her into the redingote and then placed the only hat he found on the shelf atop her head.
“You look especially fetching today,” he remarked.
