AllFreeNovel
Share Us
La! What a lie!The moment the man had lit the lantern in the barn, she’d been able to catch a glimpse of him. His wind-tossed, rain dampened black hair had gleamed with a blue hue in that soft light, and those ice-blue eyes of his had held an intensity that even now had the power to increase her pulse. The facial features had hinted at aristocratic bloodlines, but it was the soft, firmness of his lips she’d remembered most as they pressed against hers during that kiss where she’d thrown all decorum to the wind and returned the embrace.
Anna snorted. “I can’t wait to have a look at him later today. Do you know if he’ll take his meals with your or in the servants’ hall?”
Heat filled her cheeks, and she thrust the remembrance away, but it had been all too lovely to enjoy the thrill of a man’s arms about her in the dark. “Uh, I am not certain. We hadn’t discussed it, but I will make certain to do so this morning.” She gripped the door latch all too tightly. “If you don’t mind, I am going down to breakfast. Please press the blue watered silk gown for me. I’ll wear that to dinner.”
It wasn’t a surprising request, for even though she took her meals alone, she adored pretty clothes and dressed for the occasion. Her husband had liked it overly much when she purchased new frocks, so she placed two large orders each year. The fabrics and cuts reminded her that she wasn’t dead yet, and that she could rejoin society at any time if she so wished it.
To live again.
The thought sent a shudder of apprehension down her spine.
Do I even remember how to do the pretty?
“Of course, my lady,” Anna murmured as she went into the adjoining bedroom, presumably to tidy it.
Belle proceeded into the corridor beyond and slowly made her way along the hall by rote, for her musings had once more centered on Mr. Montague.
His clothes were too clean as well as too expensively tailored to support his claims that he was an unemployed solider who’d been working across the countryside for two years. In fact, outside of his mud-caked boots—which had been surprisingly well made—the remainder of his garments held not a speck of mud or even wear one would expect from someone who had bunked down in various barns for months.
To say nothing of the fact that he was clean-shaven. The absence of stubble was one of the first things she’d noticed when he’d kissed her. And because she’d been in such close proximity to him when he’d dragged her into the shadows and then proceeded to embrace her, she’d been able to smell him. That scent of Bay rum and lime as well as a hint of leather was not the scent of an unwashed soldier who had fallen upon hard times. Additionally, that deep black hair had been recently cut, and he no doubt wore it in a popular style. The wind and rain had obviously destroyed that, for he hadn’t worn a hat.
What sort of man on reduced circumstances would have the blunt to waste on a barber or a tailor?
Most curious, indeed, but she looked forward to puzzling out the answers.
In fact, she intended to seek him out before she did anything else, but when she reached the door to his bedchamber, a swift knock on the panel didn’t result in an answer. Daring much, and reminding herself that she was the lady of the manor, Belle pressed the brass handle. When the door swung inward, a quick visual check didn’t reveal anyone inside, but the four-poster bed had been redressed and made with crisp corners and a smoothness achieved by someone very much accustomed to doing that for themselves.
Intriguing, and yet another layer to the mystery of her house guest.
No matter. She would track him to earth more sooner than later, for she’d also spied a shaving kit and a book on the bureau top, so he hadn’t left the property altogether.
Moments later, she arrived at the breakfast room that was much more cheerful when the sun was shining. One of her favorite rooms of the manor, it looked out onto the expansive back lawn that today seemed less colorful and a bit dismal thanks to the clinging gloom. Though the buffet was ready for service and a footman nodded to her when she made an appearance, the room was devoid of all other sorts of life.
“Well, drat.” With a slight rumble in her stomach, she fixed herself a plate of all her favorite breakfast foods and then nodded as the footman poured hot tea into her waiting cup. This was her routine every day, so why would this morning be any different just because there was a house guest? “Thomas?”
“Yes, my lady?” He gave her a look of inquiry after finishing his task.
“Did Mr. Montague come into breakfast already?”
“He did, my lady. Had a hearty appetite, too. Downed his food as if there were hungry hounds behind him and washed it down with two cups of strong coffee.”
Well, that was interesting. The man enjoyed coffee and didn’t take anything in it to make the brew less bitter. She sighed. “Do you know what his intentions were following breakfast?”
“I do not, my lady. He kept to himself, but I will say Mathieu trotted along behind him.”
“And he didn’t seem to mind?” That was another curious bit of information. Usually, her cat didn’t enjoy strangers entering into what he considered his domain.
“Apparently not. Mr. Montague spent a few minutes scratching the cat and murmuring to it, and by the time he left, they seemed fast friends.” Quiet amusement wove through the footman’s voice.
“I see.” Though she really did not. The cat’s apparent defection rankled, for he had been her constant companion for the past three years, and she didn’t particularly wish to share him.
It took all her willpower to eat her breakfast with ladylike decorum. Once she’d finished, she bid Thomas good day and then set out in search of the errant solider.
An hour later, she’d determined that he was not in the manor house. Then where the devil was he? As she pondered the problem, she happened to look out the window in the portrait gallery. The wide expanse of the back lawn met her gaze, but there was also a figure clad in a gray greatcoat moving quickly over the ground in the direction of Brambleberry Cottage, which was the Dower House.
Why?
As her heartbeat accelerated, he disappeared from view. She frowned. Was that truly his destination, or was he headed to the village, which was two miles farther out? “What are you about, Mr. Montague?”
