Page 29 of Miss Devon’s Choice

“It will only take a moment; there is a groom waiting for him.” His voice trailed off as he considered her. “I will meet you in the music room shortly.”

She nodded, the curl behind her ear fully escaping to slide against her cheek. Then she left, walking the rest of the way across the grounds to the house, the breeze molding her skirts rather attractively to her figure.

Ajax barked at her retreating form, making Christian jump. How had that slip of a woman set his nerves so on edge? He tried to shake away the feeling growing in his breast, calling for Ajax to follow him back to the stable yard. He knew what the feeling was. Admiration.

Curse it all, he did admire her beauty. And that was not part of the plan.

He nearly uttered an Italian curse one of his more colorful uncles had been fond of saying.

He left Ajax in the care of the waiting groom before going back to the house, trying not to hurry yet finding himself unable to shorten his stride.

Christian’s curiosity regarding Rebecca irked him, but he didn’t deny it. He needed to understand this woman who would soon be permanently attached to him. He’d thought Rebecca Devon would be like all the other women he met in London: coldly sophisticated, wearing a mask of politeness, or else looking at him through thinly veiled disgust. The most he’d hoped for was her disinterest.

It occurred to him that perhaps she had a game to play. What if she was simply attempting to gain his approval and establish a level of intimacy that would afford herself some sort of power or position? His steps slowed outside the music room.

I must not forget that this whole marriage was arranged for business purposes. It is nothing more than a transaction of goods, an alliance of families.

Taking himself in hand, Christian pushed the door to the music room open and stepped inside.

The room was empty.

He went to the pianoforte, his steps slower. Had she already left? It hadn’t taken him more than five minutes to see to Ajax. Could she be so impatient? Or had something else captured her attention?

“I’m here,” Rebecca’s voice called. Christian whirled about, searching the corners of the room. She remained out of sight.

Is this some sort of joke? The back of his neck grew hot and his stomach dropped, a sickly feeling crawling within him. How many times had he been the brunt of jokes at school? His accent had been mocked, along with his appearance, and his familial descent. It wasn’t the sort of thing easily forgotten, even with the passage of time.

Movement along the wall directly opposite the doors to the parlor drew his attention. The wall slid aside, a pair of hands guiding it, and then Rebecca’s face appeared out of the darkness concealed behind the partition.

“Here. I thought to check the passage. It goes back about twelve feet, to open on the servants’ stair. Would you like to see?” She stepped out and gestured inside. “There wasn’t anything in the instrument, or the passage, I’m afraid.”

Christian’s feet stayed rooted to the spot, the bitterness fading slowly. “I will take your word for it.”

Rebecca guided the small section of the wall closed again. “The mechanism to open it is here,” she said, pointing to a small mirror hanging near the seam of the wallpaper. “Behind the mirror. Should you ever have need of a secret passage.” She grinned at him and came forward, her step light.

The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach hadn’t lessened much, which may have made his words harsher than he meant them to be. “Will Lord Annesbury appreciate you sharing such secrets with strangers?”

Rebecca faltered in her approach. “You aren’t a stranger, Lord Easton. You are practically family.”

His heart gave a feeble thump. He hadn’t been part of a family in a very long time. Still, he must remember the cause of such a circumstance. “Because of our betrothal.”

She smiled, hesitantly. “Yes. Lucas is fiercely loyal to family, and he’s a kind man. He wouldn’t mind me showing you the passage.” She resumed her approach, stopping again only when they were within arm’s distance of each other. “Would you care to join me for breakfast? We can resume our search afterward.”

Christian studied her expression, but he found no hint of mockery.

“I think that would be a good idea.” Maybe once he’d eaten, his thoughts would fall in order once more. They were strangely discordant in regard to the woman who now took his arm. It didn’t help that every time she touched him his head buzzed as though a hive of bees had taken up residence inside.

How had this woman managed to disconcert him with hardly more than a day’s acquaintance? It was almost frightening. And not something he liked to think on. Coming to know her better might be perilous to his ability to think. His grandfather would not approve.

She chatted lightly as they walked down the halls, pointing out interesting aspects of the decor and house as they went, quite as though they were well-acquainted. His discomfort lessened, by a small measure, and Christian stopped thinking about his grandfather’s frown. How could he not, when such a lovely smile kept turning in his direction?

Chapter Eleven

Aunt Jacqueline required assistance directly after breakfast, which meant Rebecca had to make her excuses to Christian. He accepted them without so much as the flicker of an eyelash. Though she kept a careful study of his expression, she had not yet successfully found the key to understanding it. The man wore sobriety like a mask. If Rebecca could but see where that mask ended and his true emotions began, she might make more progress in coming to know him.

She paused at her aunt’s bedroom door and ran her hands down the skirt of her gown. Hettie had neglected to tuck enough pins into Rebecca’s hair. The whole arrangement would be a terrible mess by dinner time and would need to be redone. The curls were already limp, despite Hettie using a concoction of her own invention to force Rebecca’s naturally straight hair into fashionable spirals.

She brushed again at the faint brown pawprints on her gown but couldn’t help smiling at them. If her aunt commented upon that mess, she could at least report the dress had been a necessary casualty in her attempts to better her relationship with Christian.