AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Where are you going?”
A hand tugs at my arm and I look up at Mr. Bryce.
“Out for a stroll,” I reply and his eyes turn stern.
“In this weather?” His hand is starting to hurt and I squirm. “You’ve been running around a great deal ever since Mr. Rowe came here.” He shakes his head. “Where are your manners?”
I shrug miserably, murmuring, “Can we talk about this later? I could really use some exercise.”
Mr. Bryce closes the door and the chill and the smattering sound of the rain disappears.
“You’re being selfish, Zinnia. Mr. Rowe has been nothing but good to us and he has been good to your future husband too and this is how you thank him?” He scoffs, taking out his pipe from his pocket. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Looking down I murmur, “I don’t mean to be difficult.”
Lighting the pipe and taking a couple of puffs, Mr. Bryce scoots me toward the staircase. “I’m sure Mr. Rowe could use some company. He’s here all on his own and doesn’t know anyone in this town. He could be an asset to you and Morton and it is your duty to upkeep good relations.”
Good relations?
“What do you want me to do?”
Mr. Bryce waves me off, continuing down the hallway, “Talk to him, entertain him, do whatever but for goodness sake don’t make him feel any more unwelcome than you already have.”
Gulping, I glance at the door. I could still make a run for it or go up to my own room and hide, or blame my absence on a headache. Only problem is that I’ve already lied about having a headache two times before in three days. I don’t think I could get away with a third time.
The path to Mr. Rowe’s chambers feels like walking in a tunnel and I slide my hand along the wallpaper as I walk. I housed him in the part of the house that’s the farthest away from the rest of us. I thought that he would complain and ask to changes rooms but he hasn’t.
One of the maids shoots me a strange look as I walk to the third floor and I probably resemble a ghost or something. Pinching my cheeks, I try to pretend that the usual tremble in my hand isn’t there and I knock on the door.
There’s no answer and I feel a flare of relief. Maybe he’s out? Inwardly I curse when the door opens and there’s Mr. Rowe, dressed in black pants and a black sweater that looks soft and expensive.
And it makes him appear more huggable. Like he deep down is the kind of man who can stroke a girl’s back for hours and not complain.
“Ah...Miss. Zinnia,” he says, his voice mellow and warm just like his eyes but I can sense fury burning in him. He’s been longing for something for a long time and was unable to secure it.
“Am I disturbing?” I ask, hoping he’ll say yes and turn me away. “I could leave if you’re busy...”
“I always have time for you,” he replies, making some space for me. “Come in.”
My heart dashes because this feels wrong. This feels like walking into a lion’s den. I shouldn’t even be here and I wouldn’t have been if Mr. Bryce didn’t ask me and I’m shocked that the Bryce’s don’t see what I see. Don’t they understand that Mr. Rowe is here to destroy everything?
He seems both offended and amused at me hesitating on the threshold and he murmurs, “I promise I don’t bite.” Taking his word for it, I walk into the room, jerking when he closes the door and adds, “That hard.”
Tensing, I glance at him but he only smiles and chuckles low in his throat. The sound makes me fill with embarrassment. He knows the effect he has on me. And him, knowing that I’m betrothed to someone else only makes it worse.
Clasping my hands, I stroll into the room and I’m amazed at what he’s done with it. He’s only been here for a short while but he’s already managed to put his mark. The room is murkier, the curtains half drawn and he’s moved some furniture’s around and it’s spacier now.
His chambers are the biggest ones in the house, a lounge room and then an adjoining bedroom separated by black doors. I shiver when remembering that the Bryce’s told me that Morton and I could have this space after we’ve gotten married.
“I must say, I’m surprised you came knocking on my door,” Mr. Rowe says, moving a couple of books around but it’s clear that he’s tidy. Tidier than me even.
“Mr. Bryce asked me to. He thought you might want some company.”
“I see.” Mr. Rowe’s mouth thins but he doesn’t start with the usual apologies. He doesn’t say that I’m free to leave and that he doesn’t want me to feel cornered. Instead he keeps quiet as if he doesn’t care about why I came as long as I’m here.
“And how is your headache?” Mr. Rowe continues and I flush, refusing to look at him.
“It’s better now,” I lie and I know that he knows that I’m lying. He nods at the couch, asking me to sit down and I do. It’s safer if I sit down, easier to hide the trembling but I am still so out of my element. I don’t have that much experience with men.
