She pressed her lips together. The man was too intelligent for his own good.
His eyes narrowed—though not with scorn. With pity? No. Not that, either. She couldn’t decipher his expression, and it maddened her.
“Is that truly what you think, Lady Annabelle? That Gaston was refused admittance due to his common origins?” he asked softly.
“Of course. What other reason could there be?” she demanded. For no reason she could think of, her pulse had begun to race, as when waking from a particularly vivid nightmare.
“What else, indeed? I wonder—how well did you know your brother, Lady Annabelle?”
“What a silly question. I knew him very well. Of course I did. He was my brother, and I loved him.”
He nodded. “As any good sister would.”
Unable to work up any true offense at his statement, and having no notion how to respond, she opted to change the subject. “Well, sir. I have answered your question. Now, perhaps you will answer mine.”
He waved one hand in negligent assent.
“If you did not come here to hide, why did you come all this way, far from the reaches of civilization?”
He lowered his gaze to his boots, mouth curving downward. “I came to grieve my grandfather.”
The simple statement hit her with the force of a gong. She could not muster the first snarky remark. If anything, she had the oddest desire to say something…nice.
“On another note. Annabelle, I wanted to say…” He broke off as if searching for the appropriate words. “I appreciate your handling of Babette today. That is, it was good of you to reassure her this morning after the incident in your bedchamber. I do believe you have gained an admirer in her.”
Annabelle’s stomach plummeted, and her face flamed with heat as the truth became instantly, abundantly, horrifically plain. “Youheardme,” she stated. She could not remember the last time she’d been so profoundly humiliated.
He bit his full lower lip as if staunching a grin. “I beg your—”
“You heard me singing to Babette—just now,” she said, unable to look at him.
“You refer to the children’s lullaby you used to soothe Babette?” he asked gently, and there it was. Proof.
She folded her arms. So much for the decency he’d displayed. He was merely setting her up for a fall. “Go on, then. Say it.”
Her mother had. Her brother, too.
The awful truth was, though her music tutor had been tasked with teaching her to lift her voice in a pleasing lilt, her mother had finally pronounced the effort a waste of money destined to end in failure.
Both his brows shot up. He looked utterly baffled. “Saywhat?”
“I am an atrocious singer.”
He huffed out a laugh that managed to not seem directedather so much aswithher. “As to that, I wouldn’t classify your voice asbad, per se.”
Unable to sit still another moment, she bounded to her feet and strode to the bookcase, putting her back to him in self-defense. “Of course you would. It’s a known thing.Poor Annabelle can’t carry a tune in a bucket,andmake her stop. Her singing is enough to set one’s teeth on edge.”
“As if anyone would say as much.” His low voice held altogether too much sympathy and sounded altogether too near. “Besides, your skill--or lack thereof--is hardly the point.”
“No?” She shot a look over her shoulder and found him standing an arm’s reach from her. Warmth gleamed in his dark eyes, sending her pulse soaring.
Milord fancies milady.
Without making a conscious decision to do so, she shifted ‘round to search his face. Had she been right all those months before? She’d been so certain she’d felt something spark between them, only to hear his disparaging words.Can’t you see what sort of people they are, Caroline?
He’d humiliated her. Left her feeling foolish and rejected and like the awkward, ugly, one-eye patch little girl she’d been, once upon a time.
“You look very strange,” he said, tone suddenly wary.
