She shook her head. “I’ve barely begun, so I hardly know what you mean,” she lied.
Nodding, he took another drink from the mug. “This was a good idea. I am rather hungry.”
“Would you like to join me for luncheon? I always have cook make me a cold collation and sometimes soup on days such as this,” she offered.
“I don’t wish to impose any more than—”
“Oh, but you’re not, Your Grace,” she interrupted.
He winced. “You know who I am?” The air left him all at once.
“Mr. Pruitt told me. He saw what happened, and he and my footmen helped to bring you here.”
Andrew dipped his head. “I suppose he told you of my aversion to the outdoors?”
“He did.”
“You must think me ridiculous.”
“Hardly, Your Grace. After what you endured?” she replied. “I lost my mother, too. When she gave birth to my younger brother. I miss her terribly.”
Draining the mug, Andrew regarded her with a furrowed brow. “I hardly remember my mother,” he murmured, placing the empty mug on the nightstand. He swung his legs over the opposite edge of the bed to stand, his gaze darting about in search of his shoes. He straightened his shirt sleeves. “Your father is the Marquess of Stonely, is he not?”
“He is,” she affirmed, coming to her feet. “Have you met him?
“Of course. Is he about?”
“No, Your Grace. He’s in London. My brother has recently returned from Greece, and they are to make their way here for Christmas. That is, once the weather allows for travel.”
“You’re here alone?” His expression conveyed worry as he donned his top coat and buttoned it.
She shook her head. “My younger brother is in the nursery, and there are a dozen servants about.”
He seemed to relax a bit. “Have you lived here long?”
“Half my life, probably,” she replied. “Ever since my brother was born, I have lived only here at Stonefield Manor.”
Narrowing his eyes, Andrew regarded her with a sudden realization. “You are the hostess of the district balls, are you not?”
Rather surprised he would mention the annual fête, she said, “I am.”
“I understand from my man of business that they are well planned and executed. Your father has been hosting an event that probably should have been my responsibility,” he explained. “So I thank you for seeing to the details.”
Angelika inhaled softly before she said, “You’re welcome.”
Andrew was sure she was surreptitiously studying him, perhaps his physique, when his attention was on his clothing. Even though he didn’t venture out—he hadn’t ridden a horse since he was six—he kept himself in good shape with exercises he could perform indoors.
On the days he and Pruitt didn’t engage in a fencing match, he pounded out his frustrations on a pugilist’s punching bag, ran laps around the perimeter of the ballroom, climbed a rope secured from the rafters in the attic, and ran up and down the stairs.
“I was thirteen at the time,” she said, referring to her age when her mother had died.
His brows furrowed. “I seem to remember a young girl floating a boat in the pond at Dunfey Park.”
Angelika’s gaze dropped to her slippers. “That was me. I apologize for trespassing. I—”
“Have nothing to apologize for,” he stated as he pulled on his boots. They had been placed near the fire to dry, and their warmth was welcome. “I rarely look out the windows, so it was a pleasant surprise to see someone enjoying the water. In fact, you’re welcome to enjoy any part of the property. If I’m to believe my man of business, the parterre gardens are especially beautiful in the spring. My mother called it the sunset garden.”
“Oh, that’s the perfect name for it,” she replied. “Such lovely colors. The tulips and wallflowers are all yellows and golds and oranges and reds...”
