She wore her cat-who-drank-the-cream look, her lips curling, her eyes glowing beneath lazy lids.
Annis said, “Four days of this, Frances? Is that really what you want?”
“Oh yes,” Frances said. She had reached her room, next door to Annis’s. Her cat’s smile broadened as she put her hand on the latch. “Yes, this is exactly what I want.” She pulled the door open and spoke over her shoulder as she went in. “Do wear those pearls of yours, Annis. See to it you look your best.”
In the cavernous dining room of Rosefield Hall, candelabras glowed on a long table laden with silver and crystal. Their yellow light glimmered on half a dozen sideboards but left the corners of the room in shadow. An enormous fireplace dominated one end of the room, with what looked like a small tree burning in it. The ceiling was decorated with creatures Annis couldn’t identify in the gloom.
Lady Eleanor saw her gazing upward and came to join her. “It’s Tudor,” she said. “They’re lions and griffins, heraldic figures, the same as the stone figures on the roof. The plaster paneling is even earlier, sixteenth and seventeenth century. It’s all a bit dim in the candlelight, I’m afraid. One of these days we’ll have electric lights so you can see them properly. A bit of a barn, this room, isn’t it?”
“I love barns.”
“Do you indeed, Miss Allington?”
Even in her bemused state, Annis recognized the humor in Lady Eleanor’s voice, and her cheeks warmed. It had been an inappropriate response, born out of the odd feelings she had been having since yesterday. “I’m sorry, Lady Eleanor. That sounded silly. The mention of barns made me think of the beautiful horses in your pasture, the ones I saw when we arrived. I love horses.”
Lady Eleanor smiled. “How fortunate. Horses are one of Rosefield’s passions, too.”
Annis wasn’t certain who Rosefield was. She was afraid she was supposed to know, so she didn’t ask.
Her hostess gestured to a chair at one end of the glittering table. “Here, Miss Allington. You’ll sit here, on the marquess’s right.”
A uniformed servant hurried forward to pull the chair out, and Annis sat down. A heartbeat later, she realized no one else had taken their seats. They were all standing in front of their chairs, and several were watching the door. Her cheeks burned again. The servant behind her, who could hardly be much older than she, whispered, barely moving his lips, “They’re waiting for His Lordship, miss.”
“Oh,” Annis whispered. “Thank you.” She came to her feet, resisting the urge to cover her red cheeks with her gloved hands. She glanced at the other guests and caught the eye of Mrs. Derbyshire, just across from her. The lady wore an evening dress of rather rusty black silk and an enormous diamond brooch. Both looked as if they belonged to a different age, just as Mrs. Derbyshire did. Annis was startled when the old lady lowered one eyelid in a wink and her wrinkled lips twitched.
Annis grinned, then ducked her head to hide it. It was a small gesture on the part of Mrs. Derbyshire, but a kind one. It seemed the old lady understood Annis’s discomfort. Perhaps she even sympathized. The heat in Annis’s cheeks subsided, and she was glad she had been patient during the interminable afternoon.
Annis’s dress seemed embarrassingly bright compared with Lady Eleanor’s mourning black. Her gown was cream silk, with pink embroidery on the sleeves and on the neckline. Pink beads crusted the bodice and the hem of the skirt. She wore her mother’s pearls, and they felt cool and smooth against the bare skin of her throat.
There had been no more occurrences like the one in her bedroom in New York, no sudden flashes of understanding, but the pearls felt protective. She touched the center stone as she waited to see who this lordship was and why everyone had to stand waiting for him. She could see the first course already cooling on the sideboard. The butler, a stiff man of middle years, stood at attention beside it, his expression remote, as if the meal’s growing cold didn’t matter in the least.
The door to the dining room opened, and one of the servants hurried to hold it as a tall, slender man came through. He wore a black tailcoat and a high-collared white shirt with a black bow tie. His waistcoat was black, too, buttoned around his lean middle. As he crossed the room to the table, the ladies dropped tiny