She had hoped Caroline would stay with them. Perhaps, her new sister had decided against doing so. She mustn’t pressure Caroline, who had every right to live where she felt most comfortable.
Taking a bracing breath, she returned her attention to Babette. “You will live with Lord Randall and myself, and remain in my household for as long as you wish.”
Smiling with unabashed affection, the girl bobbed another curtsy and dashed from the room.
***
Almost immediately following Babette’s exit, a subdued Caroline excused herself, stating the need to begin readying herself for their journey.
Their last conversation before Babette had entered the chamber had certainly left plenty for Annabelle to consider.
She had been so consumed with discovering how Sterling felt about her. Desperate for his love and any sign of affection, she’d missed something important.
She waited several minutes, ensuring Caroline had time to return to her chambers. Then she rose, and started for the door. In the corridor, she glanced left and right, and seeing no servants, turned toward Sterling’s office.
Maybe Sterling loved her. Maybe he didn’t. Only one thing was sure. She loved him and had refrained from telling him. Why? To save herself the humiliation?
How small that risk now seemed. How selfish. Especially considering the way everything her husband did was aimed at making others’ lives better.
It was time for Annabelle to be bold. To give something back. Something costly, like her heart, and ask nothing in return.
She entered his office, shut the door behind her, and breathed in the masculine scents of leather, old wood, and the faint hint of his cologne. Then, squaring her shoulders, she padded across the carpets to seat herself behind his desk.
She withdrew a blank piece of parchment from the neat stack atop his desk, then sat in his big chair and availed herself of his writing implements.
Holding the quill aloft, she hesitated briefly as she decided on what precisely to say. In the end, simple honesty struck her as the best approach.
She dipped the sharpened quill into the ink and scratched out the words.
My dear Sterling,
By the time you get this, I will undoubtedly be gone.
After due consideration, I have decided to permit you to collect Caroline and me en route to London if that is still your desire, once you learn that I have committed a grave social faux pas.
It seems that, despite my best efforts, I have fallen in love with my generous, kind, and sometimes bullheaded husband and I fear the condition is permanent.
Your loving wife,
Annabelle
She blotted the ink, assuring herself it was dry before folding the parchment and sliding open the slender top drawer of her husband’s desk.
Beholding the drawer’s contents, she blinked, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. The folded parchment in the center of the drawer looked to be written in an all too familiar hand.
Fingers trembling, she withdrew the foolscap and gazed at the bold, black script, clearly addressed to Sterling. Her father’s penmanship. There could be no doubt.
She swallowed. Told herself this could be an old letter which Sterling may have received during Caroline and Gaston’s courtship.
It could be anything at all.
In any case, she had no right to read it. It was not addressed to her.
She replaced it, closed the drawer, rose on unsteady legs and started for the door. Midway across the chamber, she stopped, turned, and headed back to the desk. After all, she told herself, everyone knew she was curious to a fault.
***
By the time Sterling traversed Fenwick, and the home of the late Jack Blackwell came into view, the afternoon sun slanted high across the narrow lane, illuminating the row of low, tile-roofed cottages and their connecting work yards. He’d arrived a good hour later than he’d hoped, but what had delayed him had been entirely worth it.
