by Martha Keyes
Tobias smiled ruefully. "Peals being rung over you day and night?"
Anne laughed lightly and nodded.
"At the risk of giving offense," Tobias said, "I think I should prefer my own father's barking—devilish unpleasant while it's happening, but otherwise he's friendly enough. Your father has a very stern face—the kind that makes a man shake in his boots with naught but a glance."
Anne sighed. "He has a temper to match his face, I'm afraid."
"Well," Tobias said, his tone light, "you needn't worry yourself that you shall meet with barking or peal-ringing here. I shan't allow it—or subject you to it myself."
"I know," she said. She couldn't imagine Tobias in anything but a pleasant humor. He had been nothing but civil to her so far, always with the same ready smile he wore now. The sun behind him created a little halo of light, shining through the sandy curls under his hat, and Anne found herself admiring him for a moment.
Silence reigned until Tobias inclined his head and said with a wink, "Don't spend too much time out here—you must leave some of the fun for me."
And with that, he walked off, leaving her full of thoughts and questions. How could she make Hazelhurst a place Tobias was relieved rather than reluctant to come home to?
6
Tobias handed his gloves and hat to the butler, his stomach growling uncomfortably. His boots were splashed with mud, but he hoped Anne wouldn't mind. Would she be glad he had decided to come home for dinner rather than dining at Birford's like he said he would do?
He had fully intended to, of course, but all day, amidst the hunt, he hadn't been able to forget the way Anne had looked when she'd commented on him rarely dining at Hazelhurst. She was adept at hiding her feelings—there was no doubt about that. But Tobias could have sworn he'd seen a bit of hurt in her eyes when he'd mentioned his intention to be gone again for dinner.
He strode down the corridor toward the dining room, but he couldn't smell anything besides the faint smell of soap which wafted toward him each time he passed the curtains. Anne had been working hard to set the house in order.
Ducking his head into the dining room, he frowned. There was no one there, and the table was unset.
Had she left for the evening? Why did that possibility bring on a twinge of disappointment? He had become accustomed to meeting her in the corridors, the breakfast room, or the dining room whenever he happened to be home, but of course she was at liberty to leave whenever she pleased. It was silly that he had expected her to be home when he had decided willy-nilly to return.
"Spears, do you know where Lady Anne is?" he asked the butler.
"I believe she is in the breakfast room, sir."
Tobias raised his brows and nodded before walking further down the candlelit corridor. As he neared the breakfast room, he sniffed a few times, trying to decide what he was smelling. Whatever it was, it was definitely getting stronger as he neared the breakfast room.
The door was slightly ajar, giving him the sliver of a view inside where his wife—would he ever get used to using that label?—faced the wall with the fireplace, holding a candle in one hand and a book in the other. A few small containers stood on the mantle of the fireplace.
The corner of his mouth tugged up into a smile. She was so focused on what she was doing, her lips and forehead puckered, her head tilting from side to side as she looked from the book to the wall and back again. A strand of hair had come loose from her coiffure and hung down her back.
His brows pulled together. He had never seen her hair down, even after a month of being married. In fact, what did he know of her now that he hadn't already known before their wedding?
He pushed the door open, and she turned quickly, her eyebrows flying up in surprise. "Tobias," she said, setting the book down on the hearth. "Is everything well?" She scanned him, as if looking for some sign of injury.
"Yes, of course," he said, looking curiously at the spot on the wall she had been staring at. There was nothing there. What had she been doing? "I thought I would come home for dinner."
"Oh," Anne said blankly. "Well, I am terribly sorry. I told Cook that she might take the night off."
Tobias stooped to pick up the book from the hearth. "What is this?" He opened it, flipping through the pages. They were loosely bound, full of paper hanging patterns.
He looked up at Anne, who was regarding him with clenched teeth and a worried brow. "I thought that you might feel more at home here if the rooms looked different, so I sent one of the maids to town today to pick up some samples of paper hangings and paint."
He looked to the containers on the mantle. Paint. Of course. That's what he had been smelling. He peered over at them—all various shades of blue, from a pale shade reminiscent of a robin's egg to the rich blue of a Hussar uniform. This was how she had chosen to spend her evening? Doing something for him?
"Are you upset?" Anne asked, watching him with a small swallow.
He dipped a finger in the first paint container of pale blue, pulling out his index finger and inspecting it in the candlelight, then looking past it to Anne's anxious face.
"Livid," he said, smiling then reaching toward her, where he proceeded to wipe his paint-dipped finger down the bridge of her nose.
Her mouth dropped open as she pulled away from him, grabbing at his wrist. Her eyes were wide as she looked from his blue finger to his face, speechless.
He bit the inside of his lip to control his smile and then cocked his head to the side. "Yes, I do like that color." It was strange to feel the bare skin of her hand on his. She was his wife, and yet, before now, they hadn't shared more intimacy than would a couple dancing their first set together. He found that he liked the contact—her hand was warm and soft, even as it grasped his firmly.
She stared at him for a moment and then dipped two of her fingers in the middle container of paint.
His smile fell away, and he pulled his body back, looking at her warily.
Delight and daring twinkled in her eyes, and she reached her hand to his face, wiping her fingers down his cheek in a slow, precise movement. He stood absolutely still, but he hoped she wouldn't miss the message in his eyes: this means war.
She stepped back to admire her work, dropping his wrist. "Ah, but I find this color to be very complimentary. Though"—she pursed her lips, but the corners trembled adorably as she tried to control them—"it wouldn't do to leave the last color untried."
One of his eyebrows quirked up, and they held one another's gaze for a moment before both reaching their hands into the final, deep blue and dodging apart to avoid one other's reach.
She made a dash toward him with her arm extended threateningly, another one of her curls escaping her coiffure and dropping into her eyes, and he hopped backward, turning and running to the other side of the table as something very much like a girlish shriek escaped from him.
Anne stopped and her hand flew to cover her mouth, as if the noise had come from her, but Tobias could see her shoulders shaking.
Tobias cleared his throat and grasped his hands behind his back, making sure not to transfer any paint to his coattails. He bowed formally. "I beg you will keep what just happened to yourself, my lady."
She took a moment to compose her face and then inclined her head. "You may rely upon my discretion, sir."
"I thank you most humbly."
There was a pause.
And then he ran toward her, letting his hand run along the chairs that surrounded the table to ensure he didn't misjudge their location and trip. He could hardly ask her to overlook two humiliations.
She picked up her skirts with her clean hand and ran, circling the table just as he was. But he was closing the distance between them, grinning with exhilaration as he got closer and closer.
He was almost within reach when she darted away from the table and toward the fireplace, taking the container of Hussar blue in her hands and turning toward him, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
Not anticipating her inten
tion quickly enough, Tobias tried to stop to avoid a collision, but it was too late.
Paint flew in the air, landing on the wall, the carpet, the table—but mostly on Tobias and Anne, who tumbled onto the floor in a mess of blue.
Tobias opened his eyes and raised himself on his arms, looking down at Anne beneath him, her dress dripping, and her face speckled in blue, and the stripe of pale blue on her nose dappled with darker, fresh paint. Her eyes were clenched shut, her arms crossed in front of her chest defensively.
Tobias gripped his lips together to keep from laughing, but a burst escaped him all the same.
Anne opened her eyes timidly at first, lowering her arms as her eyes met Tobias's laughing ones. He tried to look an apology at her, fairly certain that the attempt met with no success at all.
Her face screwed up for a moment, her brows drawing together, her lips pursing. But the quivering at the corners of her mouth won out, and she burst into laughter, covering her mouth with a hand.
He rested his weight on one arm, pulling her hand away from her mouth and trapping it on the ground by her head.
He looked down at her, his grin widening as he admired her.
Anne was prone to smile—she was kind, after all. But there was something so different about seeing her laugh freely, rather than the composed expression he so often saw.
"What are you doing?" she said on a laugh, her brow knitting slightly at his strange behavior.
"You always cover your mouth when you laugh." He shrugged one shoulder. "I wanted to see what you were hiding."
Her smile flickered, and they locked eyes for a moment.
Tobias was suddenly keenly aware of how near their faces were, of how his hand still held hers to the floor, of how much of their bodies were touching.
He rolled away, swallowing and then forcing a laugh as he looked down at his paint-stained clothing. "I was going to claim victory for myself, but I think the paint is the clear victor."
He pushed himself to standing and reached a hand to Anne. She took it without meeting his eyes, instead lowering her head to survey the damage on her dress and then scanning the room. "Oh dear," she said. "This wasn't quite what I had in mind for redecorating."
Tobias laughed, watching a drop of paint drip from the mantle down to the hearth. "No, I imagine not. And yet it is very original."
She sighed. "I think it will be easiest to clean right away."
Tobias walked to the door and reached for the bell.
Anne rushed over and stopped his hand, frowning. "I feel ashamed asking the servants to clean this up, particularly at this hour of night."
Tobias allowed his hand to drop under the weight of hers and looked around. "Yes, it does seem somewhat cruel, doesn't it?"
Anne looked at him, a little smile on her lips and teasing censure in her eyes. "You are the master and originator of this all, you know. Perhaps you should clean it."
Tobias removed his coat gingerly, trying not to spread the paint. He reached and tugged on the bell. "Well, if I am to be up all night cleaning this mayhem, I require some cold meat and cheese at the very least, for the stomach worm has been gnawing for nigh on four hours now. Have you eaten anything? I couldn't see that anything had been prepared."
Anne narrowed her eyes at him. "Is this genuine concern for my well-being or rather a veiled attempt to garner my help in cleaning up?"
Tobias chuckled as footsteps sounded in the corridor. "Can it not be both?"
A footman appeared in the doorway, his impassive countenance morphing to one of wide-eyed surprise as his eyes fell upon Tobias, then Anne, then the paint-splattered room.
"Just so, Colton," Tobias said, amused. "Lady Anne and I require some sustenance and"—he glanced to Anne, his mouth twisting to the side thoughtfully—"whatever cleaning supplies you think might best sort through this mess."
The footman, who had by now recomposed his expression to one of polite interest, bowed and excused himself.
Tobias's shoulders shook as he thought of the inevitable conversations which would happen below stairs as Colton conveyed his orders and the scene he had been called to.
He realized that Anne was looking at him critically. "You seem to take it for granted that I will remain to assist you," she said.
Tobias smiled and rolled up his shirtsleeves. "That is correct, for none of this should have occurred if you hadn't brought the paint here in the first place, you know. So the blame lies very much at your door, I'm afraid." He clucked his tongue.
She feigned interest in his words, her brows up and her head nodding slowly. "And what of the fact that it was with you in mind that I requested it? Does not that transfer at least some of the blame to your shoulders?"
Tobias shook his head decidedly. "Hardly relevant."
Anne nodded. "I see. Then it seems I have little choice."
"None at all, I'm afraid," Tobias said with a helpless shrug. He winked at her, and the door opened, revealing a maid with a tray of meat, cheese, and bread.
Her eyes widened briefly at the sight of the room, and Tobias exchanged an amused glance with Anne. The maid set the tray down on the breakfast table, far away from the paint which covered the half of the room nearest the fireplace in splotches and speckles.
"Anything else, sir?" she asked.
Tobias thanked her and dismissed her, moving to the tray, which he picked up and brought over to the mantle.
Anne looked a question at him as he reached for the paper hangings book and sat down on the floor.
He patted the floor next to him invitingly. "You may as well show me the paper hangings you favor while we wait for the cleaning supplies, since I am tolerably certain that neither of us will wish to see paint ever again after tonight."
"I think you may be right," she said, sighing as she looked at her soiled dress.
Tobias smiled appreciatively as she walked over and sat down by him, her graceful movements only somewhat contradicted by the paint which covered her face, neck, hands, and dress.
He thought of his friends, likely sitting around the table, enjoying their port—untouched by Hussar blue paint.
And yet Tobias felt content with his decision to dine at home.
It was with a hint of disappointment that Anne parted with Tobias that evening to their separate bedrooms. The evening they had spent together had been as enjoyable as it had been unexpected.
She rubbed one of her cheeks as she closed the door to her bedroom, pulling the bell beside it for her maid. She hadn't laughed or smiled that much since Anthony had disappeared. She had wondered if she could, in fact. Since he had left, and particularly ever since William's discoveries about Anthony's past, everyone had looked on her with some measure of pity or, in her father's case, disdain. Even her mother, angel that she was, couldn't keep from treating Anne as though she were a fragile creature. And that made Anne feel fragile, despite never having thought of herself that way.
But Tobias.
She sighed, rubbing the dried paint on her dress as she walked to the mirror. A small, nostalgic smile reflected back at her, as she saw for the first time just how far the paint had flown when they had collided. Small dots sprinkled her face, with a few larger drops covering her cheeks and forehead.
Tobias had treated her like a normal person; like someone who could laugh and enjoy herself. He had come home rather than remain with his friends.
And though Anne had known it was dangerous to follow his lead, to let herself be caught up in the playful scene he had created, she hadn't been able to help it. She had needed a respite from the heaviness of life.
But she could feel the threads of connection spinning between her husband and herself, and it terrified her, now that she had a moment to herself. She couldn't afford it. Her fingers trembled at the thought of what might happen if she continued on as she had tonight, and she balled them into tight fists.
Whatever flickers of emotion or connection she had felt this evening, they would not be reciprocated by Tobias
. It was simply his nature to laugh and tease—it hadn't meant anything. And more likely than not, the things she had felt had been due not to any brewing romantic attachment but rather to a mistaking of her own emotions. Had it been so long since she had felt joy that she must immediately assume it meant more?
She lifted her chin up and stared at herself sternly in the mirror.
Under no circumstances could she fall in love with her husband. They had agreed upon that together, quite clearly. Of course, they had never said those words precisely, but they had been implied. Unmistakably implied. This was a marriage of convenience.
The door opened, and her maid stepped in, drawing in a sharp breath at the sight of Anne.
"I know, Agatha," Anne said apologetically. "I know. And I am very sorry for the work you have cut out for you."
Anne had her own work cut out for herself as well. There was no harm in creating a place Tobias felt comfortable calling home—indeed, she felt it was her duty to make it so—but she would keep her emotions in check, treating her husband with amiable civility, just as they had planned.
7
Anne found it more difficult than anticipated to arrange for a meeting with the steward. It wasn't until she met him on the grounds one day in late September that she sensed that he might be avoiding her on purpose. She had accepted his prior excuses with enough patience, for he had framed them as urgent estate matters that surely took priority over a meeting which could be had any day.
But somehow "any day" was turning out to be "no day."
Sometimes the direct approach was the best approach. "Wallace," she said on the third putting-off of the meeting. "Is there a particular reason you wish to delay a meeting with me? I know that it is an irregular request, of course, as you would normally meet with Mr. Cosgrove, but I think a meeting not only necessary but will be mutually beneficial. I hope you will allow me to be frank—and that you will return the favor whenever you speak with me."
He nodded, his hands clasped behind his back.
