Not to mention, conversing would be easier on foot. Caroline had such a gift for storytelling and for bringing the past—hers, Harrison’s, Sterling’s, and that of their entire family—to life. The more Annabelle heard, the more she wanted to hear. She’d never laughed so much in her life.
In truth, she’d never had many friends. Her mother might not have discouraged her from developing them, but she made no secret of her belief that Annabelle should concentrate on making herself appealing to members of the male persuasion rather than waste time on nonessential relationships.
As they picked their way down the gravel path, bypassing small, colorful cottages, the priory ruins on the shoreline spread out below them, picturesque and austere. To the left of the ruins, the wharf, if it could be called that, was decidedly less so. More a landing place, really, than an actual harbor, the area boasted several upturned boats, cast-off ropes and nets, a donkey and cart here, a handful of men, there.
As for the boats on the water—fishing boats and cobles—she ignored those altogether.
“Are you as close with Harrison as you are with Sterling?” Annabelle asked after Caroline shared an amusing anecdote detailing a recent foible involving her younger brother, whereby he accidentally knocked out a friend—twice—while a guest at a house party.
“I adore Harrison. Sterling does, too. He’s often proclaimed that Harrison inherited more of the family brains than the two of us combined, but has no understanding of the physical world around him. He’s like a bull in a china shop, leaving damage in his wake.”
“Never say so.”
“Indeed. Enough that Sterling feels compelled to warn any who travel with him to take care lest they find themselves absent an eye or a limb by journey’s end.”
They rounded a corner and beheld Main Street, and a scattering of patrons intent on their endeavors.
At a glance, Annabelle took in the notable sparsity of shops. No bookstores or artisan vendors or mapmakers to speak of. Several smelly fish markets, a feed store, an ironmonger’s shop, and a general store comprised the lot.
“It looks as if the general store will have to suffice,” Caroline suggested with an apologetic grimace. “Shall we?”
Annabelle nodded. “One never knows.”
The doorbell jangled as they entered. Annabelle strolled up and down each aisle, hands linked behind her back as Caroline awaited her near the entrance. There really was nothing in the way of gifts. Unless…might she combine a few small items in such a way that Sterling might find her offering touching rather than paltry?
Undecided, she gathered her items, paid the shopkeeper, then rejoined Caroline.
“You found something?”
Shyness over the possibility the woman would find her idea ridiculous made her reticent to share. “Perhaps. Shall we start back?”
To Annabelle’s relief, though Caroline’s eyes gleamed with curiosity, she did not press. She seemed to understand.
Her sister-in-law seemed to understand many things. No wonder Gaston had been keen to marry her.
But why had she agreed to marry him?
The uncharitable thought should have caused her chagrin. Gaston had been her only brother—and he’d died an untimely, suspicious death. And yet, in her heart, she could not deny the implausibility of Caroline, as she now knew her, married to Gaston.
He had been, without question, extremely handsome, with charm to spare—depending upon what was in it for him. And at the start of their courtship, at least within Annabelle’s hearing, he had acted the gallant knight toward Caroline. But later, an occasional sharpness crept into his tone.
As they plodded up the cobbled walk, arm in arm by unspoken agreement, she slanted Caroline a considering look.
“Caroline, about my brother…” she began.
Caroline tensed in an instant. “What about him?”
“He was very handsome.”
Something that might have been relief crossed the other woman’s face. “He was.Veryhandsome. Your family, in particular, boasts extreme good looks.”
She bit her lower lip. She had not been seeking assurance in that regard. “That is kind of you to say. The thing is, I was wondering, was he very—”
“Lady Woodville, is that you? I say, itisyou,” came a warm masculine voice.
Annabelle looked up in time to see a man darting across the street toward them. After a moment, she recognized him as the nobleman she’d met that first day. The one who’d arrived unannounced and interrupted her meeting with Sterling. The one to whom she’d been introduced under the guise of her fake persona.
She almost groaned. She had not shared with Caroline her use of a fake name. She saw no way to do so now without also revealing her previous deception to Lord Vane.
