Alexander would see it as his own failings, even though that was so far from the truth.
Fine. She would meet with Kitt as she previously arranged. But she would need to be aware of her surroundings. The closer she got, the more she realized the man was completely untrustworthy.
When the carriage finally ground to a halt, Clarissa’s heart jumped. She remained glued to the bench as the coachman opened the door and set out the step.
“Miss Gordon,” he held out his hand to assist her out of the phaeton, but she remained sitting, making no move to leave the safe confines of the carriage.
All her senses told her to stay seated. Danger awaited her inside. She had never been one to believe in the mystical forces that warned of upcoming peril. But that was what she was feeling currently. A small voice telling her not to enter the estate.
“Miss Gordon,” the coachman urged, extending his hand even further. “Baron Kitt is anxiously awaiting your arrival. Ye must no’ make him wait any longer.”
Her mind raced, trying to come up with a scenario that would get her out of this situation. But none came to mind. She couldn’t rush out of the carriage, the coachman was right there and even if she managed to push him aside, he looked to be a strong man that was more than capable of chasing her down if she did escape him for the briefest of moments.
She squeezed her eyes shut. What had she done? With no choice but to go along with what had already been set in motion, she ignored the coachman’s hand and grasped the outside of the carriage for balance and exited, stepping onto the muddyground. She lifted her skirt to try to keep the dirt away, but it was no use as her shoes sunk into the wet earth.
Pausing, she looked at the estate looming before her. Unlike Castle Millwool, the Kitt estate was not welcoming in any way whatsoever. If she had not been brought here and happened upon the manor on her own, she would think the place had been abandoned. It was that unkempt.
She shivered, just imagining what the inside looked like. With a final glance over her shoulder, as if hoping that someone had followed her and would make their presence known before, she climbed the steps and walked into the foreboding building. But no one was there, and out of options, she moved forward.
The door swung open as she approached and Kitt stood in the doorway, a sneer on his lips. His brown hair was slicked off his forehead, making it look greasy, and Clarissa tried to hide her grimace.
“Miss Gordon. I am so glad you reached out.” He stepped aside, allowing her to pass and enter the house.
She paused at the doorway and glanced around the small foyer. Much like the outside, it wasn’t cared for properly. She could see how, when the former Baron Kitt lived here, the estate would have been impressive, despite its small size. Hints of grandeur were noticeable if you looked beyond the grime, dust, peeling paint, and faded wallpaper.
Remaining silent, her hands folded in front of her, she focused on not wringing them together and giving away how nervous she was.
“Please,” Kitt said as he shut the door swiftly behind her, essentially locking them in the house together. “We can settle into the parlor for now.” He waved his hand in the direction of the hall, and she moved forward towards where he pointed.
“I must say I was quite surprised at your message. It was most definitely not something I was expecting. Especially after the Duke of Argyll had so vehemently denied my request.”
Clarissa sighed. “Aye, sometimes things change.”
He narrowed his beady brown eyes and swept them up and down her body, causing a shiver to creep up her spine.
“Right. Well, glad I am of the change if I must confess.” He opened a heavy door, the wood splintered on the edges. “Here we are.”
Waiting for her to enter, he practically bounced from one foot to the other.
A sense of foreboding enveloped her. Being in his house alone with the man was bad enough. Did she really want to be confined to a small space with him? With no other choice, she moved forward. She had agreed to this meeting and now she needed to follow through with it, no matter how wrong she felt it was.
Inside the room, a small fire was lit, but yet it did naught to take the chill out of the air.
“Would you like a cup of tea? Please, sit. I will be right back with refreshments.”
Was he making the tea himself? Other than the coachman who had brought her here, she had not seen any of his staff. Did he have any? If he did, she found it hard to believe they would let the house fall into such disrepair. How long had the estate stood empty, she wondered.
She studied the seats available. Two stuffed chairs were set on each side of the small fireplace. On the wooden mantel, mottled with pockmarks, a dusty vase held a bouquet of dead flowers. Unable to identify what type of flowers they were told her they had expired quite some time ago. She frowned, surprised that Kitt wouldn’t have at least cleared those from the room before entertaining company.
A wing-backed chair sitting near a table seemed to be the best choice of the available options. There were no other chairs around it, so Kitt would need to keep his distance. Though she couldn’t get herself to sit. She much preferred to stand.
Thinking about that, thank heavens they were not home at Huntly. Word would no doubt travel quickly that she had gone out alone and visited the home of an available bachelor. She shivered. To save her integrity, many would insist that they marry so as not to sully either of their names. She could not imagine such a fate. Or was that his plan?
“Ah, here we are.” Kitt entered carrying an unpolished silver tray, the green verdigris prominent on the edges of the metal.
He picked up a white and blue china teapot. The spout was chipped and there was a crack in the belly of the pot that appeared to have been filled in. The grayish-colored spackle seemed to do the trick as no liquid escaped from damage.
“How do you take your tea, Miss Gordon?”
