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“I don’t know,” he sighed, his eyes pinned on the serving dishes. “This damned weather means I have to read yesterday’s news again now.”
He looked over his shoulder at them suddenly and without care. “Oh, good morning you two, I didn’t realise you were there.”
Estelle went to stand up but then hesitated. Unsure what to do, she looked nervously at Isaac, who remained in his seat.
“Good morning, uncle. Did you sleep well?” he called amiably before he shoved another helping of eggs into his mouth.
The gentleman huffed his gaze on Estelle.
“No,” he replied succinctly. He then bowed in her direction. “I am glad you decided to join us, my dear. How are you today?”
“I am very well, thank you. Much better,” she replied politely.
“My name is Barnabas. Martin-Howe,” he added succinctly, but with no pomposity.
Estelle had no doubt he had a title but he didn’t tell her what it was, and it seemed rude to ask.
“Everyone calls him Barnabas, or Uncle Barnabas, like I do,” Isaac murmured, loud enough for Barnabas to hear.
“That’ll do,” Barnabas cautioned before he pierced Estelle with a careful look. “You may call me, Barnabas, my dear. I used to be a stickler for formality but, to be honest with you, I cannot be bothered with it in my later years.”
“Thank you, Barnabas. My name is Estelle,” she replied.
“Good enough,” he mumbled with a nod. Already helping himself to a plate of breakfast, he allowed the silence to fall.
Estelle resumed her meal; a little relieved now that the first hurdle of actually meeting the house’s other occupants was under way. She had to admit that they were not as stuffy as she had thought they would be. Although the house was rather formal and austere, it was still their home. Having witnessed how at ease they were in it, it was less threatening somehow and so she began to relax in spite of herself.
That is, until Myles arrived.
CHAPTER NINE
“Morning everyone,” Myles said as he entered the breakfast room.
His gaze ran over everyone as he walked in. He slammed to a halt when it fell on Estelle, seated at the table with a rather nervous look on her face.
Good Lord, she is even more stunning, he mused as he studied her.
While her cheeks were paler than they had been last night, her eyes were sparkling and clear. Her long auburn hair was carefully piled into a cascade of riotous curls which bobbed and danced about her face gaily whenever she moved. The shadows cast her rose-tinted cheeks into hollow, which only emphasised the delicate oval of her face and the somewhat mysterious look in her eyes.
She looks terrified yet curious, he mused, offering her a gentle smile. But, oh, so at home and at ease – as though she belongs here.
Quickly closing that thought off, he realised everyone was waiting for him to speak.
“How are you feeling this morning?” he asked huskily, trying to keep his face as impassive.
Estelle tried not to stare at him, but simply couldn’t tear her gaze away from the man who had haunted her dreams last night. Myles was so handsome he simply took her breath away. She watched his lips move, but at first didn’t absorb his question. Those wonderful eyes held a wealth of mysteries and secrets that were almost hypnotising. When they levelled on her, she was rooted to the spot; hanging on every word uttered from those chiselled lips which seemed to be permanently curved into a relentless smile. He was either happy with his lot, or pleased about something. Whichever it was, the flash of straight white teeth only made him even more engaging.
Ignore the fluttering in your stomach and answer the man, a small voice chided her.
Her gaze flicked nervously around the room. She mentally winced when she realised everyone was waiting for her to answer him.
“I am much better this morning, thank you,” she murmured politely.
“And your head?” Myles asked as he eyed the wild mass of her tightly curled hair that had been tightly coiffed into a fashionable style. It was a shame to see her tresses confined so; he preferred them to be wild and tangled as they had been up until now. He studied the tight curls with a frown.
Somewhere in there is a head wound, he mused. But, from the way she was staring at him, clear eyed if a little bemused, nobody would have guessed.
“It still aches a little, but not in a way that I am incapacitated by it,” she replied honestly.
