the man. This was Matthias, the Marquess of Blackthorn, Lady Vivian’s younger brother. “I’m glad you are finally here.” He held out his hand to her. “Will you come walk with me?”
Anya stared down at his outstretched hand in confusion. Should she take it? What did he mean to show her? Why did he want to spend time with her? They had never met before this moment…well, not as Anya anyway. She’d seen him in her dream when she inhabited Anastasia’s body. Not to mention she was a little annoyed that she had to wait to talk to Vivian. That had been her sole reason for making the trip to Weston. Now Vivian’s brother wanted her to spend time with him instead? That was…odd.
“My apologies,” he began. “It’s not my intention to frighten you.” She jerked her head upward and narrowed her gaze. That statement sounded too familiar and made her leery—she’d heard it somewhere before... She slowly put her hand in his. It was time to end this charade and uncover what was really going on. If it meant spending some time with Lord Blackthorn, so be it.
Chapter 12
Anya didn’t understand why or how she managed to engulf herself in situations that were questionable. If she, as Anastasia, hadn’t felt the need to do her part to save the world, she may not have been shot and killed. Though she still wondered if that was a figment of her imagination or not. How could it have been real? She needed some evidence to prove to her it had been until she’d fully accept it. If it had been then she’d done the right thing. The children had been saved and hopefully lived a full life. Surely that had been worth the pain and suffering she’d endured to make that happen.
She shook those thoughts away because she had to focus on her present and where Mathias, Lord Blackthorn, was leading her. He hadn’t let go of her hand as they walked through Weston Manor, leading her into a large library with several books lining the shelves. Some of them appeared quite old… A large mirror with ornate scrollwork down the sides called to her, and she couldn’t explain why; it seemed special. As if touching it would take her places she could only imagine, but hadn’t she done enough of that inside her own head? Anya had no desire to visit anything more exotic than England and the time she currently resided in. As far as she was concerned her adventuring days were done. She forced herself to glance away from it and turn her attention to the elusive man beside her. Anya faced him and asked, “Why did you want me to come in here with you?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and lifted his lips into a devastating smile. It turned her insides to liquid, and it embarrassed her how much he affected her. She’d just met him…this older version of him. “You don’t have much patience, do you?”
“If it is warranted, I can have an endurance that far outlasts anything you could imagine.” She tilted her chin upward. “My fortitude is boundless, but that doesn’t have anything to do with the here and now. I let you lead me here, and now I expect you to answer some of my questions.”
“Only some?” He lifted a brow.
“Are we using semantics now?” She rolled her eyes. He was delaying answering her for some reason. She didn’t want to play these games with him. “I suppose I should consider there are some questions that might be to uncomfortable for you to answer, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to abstain from asking them.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Now. Let’s start with an easy one: why did you expect me to come here?”
His lips twitched. “I agree that is perhaps the simplest question, as is its answer, but I suspect you already know.”
She narrowed her gaze. “You’ve mastered answering questions without actually giving information away. That’s almost…spy worthy. Do you work with some government agency that specializes in espionage?”
“No,” he replied and shook his head lightly. “Wrong branch of the family tree, so to speak. Though my father did act as a spy during the first world war, it is usually not a Kendall trait.” He walked over to the shelf and pulled a book off. He started flipping through it. “You met Catherine, the Marchioness of Seabrook, correct?”