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Chapter Six
Arthur had a written minutia of his everyday activities. For example, he needed to be at his breakfast table by a quarter to eight and his breakfast served by eight. His servants knew it well too. He found that by doing so, he was able to keep himself placated and without undue stress which was usually what triggered one of his episodes. But on a Wednesday morning, when his schedule was interrupted, he frowned into his newspaper.
Usually, breakfast was on the table by then—scrambled eggs and bread with a jug of freshly pulped juice. Even Nora was missing from her chair.
“Where is everyone?” he said. Just then Ramon came rushing towards him and deposited a plate of his food on the table.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace, but there is a rather preposterous woman at the gate of the manor demanding for your audience. She says her name is Miss Carmen Black.” Ramon wiped a bead of sweat from his brows. “Some of the servants went down to see what the commotion was all about.”
Arthur raised both of his brows. “Demanding you say?”
“Yes! She was practically about to break down the gates. It’s almost as if she is possessed.”
Arthur’s curiosity had piqued and now he just had to see who this mysterious woman was who had dared to show up and create such a ruckus so early in the morning. He stood up from his chair even though a part of his brain protested. “Where is she now?”
“Still at the gates and refusing to leave,” Ramon said. “We even offered to give her grains or some monies, but she doesn’t want that either.”
Arthur needed to see this for himself, indeed. He walked downstairs to the drawing room where several servants were gathered around the large bay windows. As soon as they saw him coming down the winding staircase, they scattered to their stations. Even Nora was standing up on her toes to get a better look at the visitor.
Arthur laid a hand on his daughter’s hair with a smile. “What’s this about?”
“Papa, it’s her! The lady from the music hall that we encountered on the street last week.”
Immediately following her words, his smile fell away and his blood ran away. His head snapped to the window, and sure enough, there she was in the street, her chin turned upward as if she was challenging the house itself. Her hair, which was without a bonnet, had almost come undone, a few stray strands swirled in front of her face, and her cheeks had pinkened. She must be really cold out there without a thick shawl to protect her, but it didn’t seem to deter her. She looked like a goddess in force.
Arthur cursed under his breath. He had bought the music hall to keep her away from his daughter, but it had brought her to his doorstep instead. Her stance was clear. She wasn’t going anywhere.
“Bring her in,” he said to one of the footmen. “And show her to my study.”
“I wonder why she’s here,” Nora said thoughtfully.
Arthur looked down at his daughter. He couldn’t let her find out about what he had done. “Nora, please go and have your breakfast while I deal with this.”
She frowned at him. “What do you mean by that?”
Arthur winced. She had quickly caught on. “Nora,” he said in a sterner voice. “Please go and have your breakfast first.”
“Yes, Papa.” She pouted at him, but allowed one of the servants to escort her back to the dining room.
Arthur looked out the window again. Two footmen were escorting the woman in. She walked with her spine straight and her head held high. If he didn’t know any better, he thought that she was a noble lady. But he knew that wasn’t true. She was a night-woman. He had nothing against their profession, and after Lydia’s death had gotten several propositions of paramours, but he had turned all of those down.
He walked to the study before she could come in and took a seat on one of the leather chairs in front of the long bookshelf. He heard her come in and then there was a slight pause as she looked around, taking in the books. “Do you like that?” he asked, pulling her attention to him.
“I love reading,” she said shortly. “You have a lot of books.”
“I’m a collector,” Arthur said.
She arched a brow. “How many of them have you actually read?”
“I read every book I buy,” Arthur said. “I like to collect things, but not mindlessly.”
She shrugged. “I never said that.”
Arthur felt a flare of irritation. Who was this woman and what exactly did she want from him? He smoothed his features so that she wouldn’t see just how much she had managed to get under his skin. “What brings you here?”
She walked further into the room. “You have the audacity to ask me that question when you know very well what you’ve done?”
Arthur cleared his throat. He had never in his life ever been talked to in this manner. “I would like to remind you that you’re talking to—”
