He grinned back at her. She did like to press her point, didn’t she?
“Gaston asked if you were in town and, if so, wondered when you might be venturing to your club. White’s, I believe?”
He nodded.
“Lady Caroline told him she understood you had plans to go that very night.”
Finally he had some inkling of where this was going, but for the life of him he could not see how it would lead her here to Holy Island.
“Gaston asked her if she wouldn’t mind suggesting that you invite him to accompany you.”
Just so. He folded his arms over his chest. “Did he? And how did my sister respond?”
“She told him she doubted you’d be amenable to the notion. Evidently, your grandfather was in town, and the two of you had plans to enjoy a private supper.”
At the mention of his grandfather, some of his joviality evaporated. Damn, but he missed the old man. “Yes, I recall the night.” He recalled it well because that had been the night the marquess revealed the extent of his illness to Sterling.
“Gaston pointed out that, as they were to be married in another few months, it stood to reason that he and your grandfather ought to become better acquainted.”
“He wanted to get to know the marquess, did he? Funny, I wouldn’t have pegged your brother as a family man.”
The unexpected and muted pounding of a horse’s hooves had him glancing over his shoulder to peer out the window behind him. Emerging through the swirls of white, a lone rider approached the castle via the short access road.
He swallowed a silent curse as he recognized the man. Lord Vane. The last he’d heard, the minor nobleman had departed the island for his estate in nearby Beadnell. Evidently, he’d returned.
Why in hell would he call on Sterling, now, in this abysmal weather? The two were not friends, and they’d concluded their business, or lack thereof, the last time they’d spoken.
“Am I boring you, Lord Randall?”
He shifted his gaze back to her. He wasn’t bored in the least. But he was vexed.
Vexed for having to pause the conversation at this juncture. Vexed that he was enjoying said conversation far too much. Vexed that his fears regarding her presence here and the likelihood of scandal were precariously close to coming to fruition.
“On the contrary, Lady Annabelle. I’d very much like to hear how your brother attempted to paint his request to join me in altruistic colors. Unfortunately, a small problem has emerged which requires my immediate attention.”
She blinked. “What’s that?”
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, contemplating what to do next.Hell’s teeth.If only he’d instructed Cogsworth not to receive any visitors. But how could he have predicted anyone would be fool enough to ride out in this weather?
He pushed to his feet and strode for the open door. Leaning into the hall, he caught the faint rumble of masculine voices from the direction of the foyer. Vane had entered the manse.
He eyed the woman who’d twisted around in the chair to keep him in her sights, like a cat, preparing to pounce on a hapless mouse.
“It seems an unexpected caller has arrived,” he informed her.
“I see.” She smoothed her skirts as if she intended to rise. As if she intended to join him in greeting the caller.
Not bloody likely. “You will remain here.”
She surged to her feet. “I beg your pardon?”
“You may beg my pardon all you like, but you are not to set foot out of this office.”
Her mouth fell open as if stunned.
“Or will you prove me right?” he demanded in silken tones that held no trace of warmth.
“Right about what?”
