“And you wept the month away in agonized solitude, did you?” he said.
“I was concerned about you,” she said, “of course.”
“Of course,” he said, his eyes twinkling at her. “My injury was minor, Annabelle. Very minor.”
“And yet you still limp,” she said.
“To attract the sympathy of ladies like yourself,” he said, getting to his feet. “Justin will think I have run off with you. And he will be planning to abscond with Rosamund just to spite us both.”
“I don’t think his lordship would think any such thing,” she said, “or do any such thing.”
He smiled down at her and helped her to her feet. “One day,” he said, “I am going to make you smile, Annabelle. I have just made it the goal and ambition of my life.”
“How absurd you are,” she said.
“How absurd you are,” he mimicked, taking her by the chin and laughing down into her face. “I wouldn’t mind having a guinea for every time you have said that to me during our lifetime, Annabelle.”
They reached the top a short while later and were immediately hailed by Rosamund, who was standing on a higher rise a short distance away, her right arm loaded with daffodils.
Annabelle lost no time in hurrying toward her.
Chapter 10
Annabelle was sitting at her grandfather’s right hand at breakfast the next morning, Rosamund at his left.
“And what plans do you ladies have for today?” he asked. “All you young people made life very easy yesterday by entertaining yourselves.”
“Lord Wetherby has asked me to go riding with him,” Annabelle said.
The marquess looked toward the window. “It’s cloudy and blowing,” he said. “Not nearly as pleasant a day as yesterday. But fine for riding.”
“Will you come as chaperon, Aunt Rosa?” Annabelle asked.
Rosamund looked up at her in surprise and dismay. And she glanced involuntarily down the table at Lord Wetherby, who had also heard Annabelle’s request. She would do anything rather than have to spend another day with the two of them, Rosamund thought. She could not live through another day like the day before.
“Are you going to the abbey?” Christobel asked the earl eagerly.
“The abbey?” He looked at her inquiringly.
“Winwood Abbey,” she said. “It is just a few miles away and a very picturesque spot. I’ll come too, if I may. And Ferdie. Won’t you, Ferdie?”
Rosamund breathed a little more easily.
“I will do myself the honor of escorting Lady Hunter,” the Reverend Tobias Strangelove said. “Winwood Abbey is an admirable destination. I commend you on having thought of it, Christobel. It will be my pleasure to describe the ruins to you when we arrive, my lord.” He inclined his head across the table to the earl.
“Splendid, splendid,” the marquess said, rubbing his hands together. “I shall have a talk with the other young people when they decide to get up from their beds.”
At least there was one consolation, Rosamund thought when she left the table a few minutes later in order to return to her room to change into riding clothes, at least there would be a crowd of them. For a moment it had seemed that there might be only her, Annabelle, and Justin.
When she reached her room, she bent to smell the daffodils, arranged in a large vase on the table beside her bed. She closed her eyes briefly. But, no, she would not think of it. She would not.
She glanced guiltily to the pile of four heavy books on the window ledge. She had carried them up from the library the evening before. One of the daffodils was being pressed between them.
Lord March was standing on the steps when Rosamund went outside, on her way to the stables. He smiled at her.
“A blustery day,” he said, hunching his shoulders inside his greatcoat.
“You are not coming riding?” she asked.
