sorry.”
When he helped me to my feet and pulled me against his chest, I didn’t hesitate.
No one had held me after Grandfather’s death, no one until Peter had come. I
relaxed against him. He was tall. He was comfortable. I cried and cried.
His breath was soft and warm against my hair. “It’s all right. It has been a
difficult time for you. That’s all right, Andrea, no, Andy. Just cry, my dear.
That’s right.”
I would have given up my port had he asked it of me, willingly. But he had
chosen to indulge me. He was offering me companionship and friendship. He was
giving me comfort. I was very lucky that he had come to see me, and had found me
acceptable.
I sobbed and hiccupped, then raised my face. “If you really don’t like it, I
will stop drinking.”
He laughed a bit and hugged me again. “No, a countess and her port shouldn’t be
separated.”
I would have killed for him at that moment. I smiled up at him through a veil of
tears. “If you have any skeletons at all in your family closet, I swear upon my
honor to keep quiet about them.”
He paused for just the smallest moment, then said easily, “I would expect no
less of you. Your grandfather raised you well. I hope you won’t be disappointed,
but my ancestors have been a fairly staid lot, one succeeding the other without
much fanfare, much scandal, much treachery. Well, perhaps a bit, but not all
that much. But I appreciate your vow.
“Now, my dear Andy, you have held up very well. I hope your new home, the new
people you will meet, will help lessen your grief. But you know, my dear, grief
is important. Eventually your memories of your grandfather will settle about you
like a comfortable old cloak. They will comfort you, make you smile, perhaps
even laugh, at the oddest moments.
“My shoulder will always be near should you desire to use it again.”
“God made you a very good man, sir,” I said, sniffed, and blew my nose on the
handkerchief he handed me. “There are skeletons in my family, some quite
scandalous ones actually, but none of them are old enough to be romantic.”
“Between us, we will contrive to come up with one excellent horrifying tale of
the past to entertain us on cold winter evenings.”
“We must hurry, since winter is nearly upon us.”
“I will check my history again to see what offensive lout I can dig up.”
He walked me to my bedchamber, smiled down at me silently for a moment, and gave
me a gentle pat on the cheek. “Pleasant dreams, my dearest Andy.”
I watched him walk down the dimly lit corridor. He gave me a small wave before
opening the door to his bedchamber. I wondered where his valet Flynt was
sleeping. I personally wouldn’t want Flynt sleeping anywhere near me.
I went inside to hear the delicate sleeping sighs of
Miss Crislock, and George’s loud snores. I remembered the steak bits I’d put
aside for George. I’d left them wrapped in my napkin on the table. The thought
of George’s delight in the morning when I presented him a bite of steak made me
finally pick up a candle and make my way back downstairs. Perhaps the bosomy
Betty hadn’t yet cleared everything away.
“She is very young.”
I stopped instantly, my hand outstretched to turn the knob on the parlor door.
It was a man’s voice, and I didn’t recognize it. It was coming from inside the
parlor where Lawrence and I had shared our dinner, where I had cried for
Grandfather and he had held me.
Who was the man speaking to?
“No woman is ever young,” said Lawrence, and that stalled me. Of course I was
young. There was a good deal of scorn in his voice that set me frowning. He had
certainly gotten back downstairs very quickly.
“We will see,” my husband continued. “Go on ahead. We will arrive at Devbridge
Manor by dinnertime the day after tomorrow, barring any nasty weather. All goes
well. Don’t worry.”
I ran back up the stairs, George’s steak forgotten. Who was he talking to? Why?