by Delia Parr
She offered him a tenuous smile of gratitude before she drew a deep breath, read the entire document carefully, and finally signed her name.
Pleased that she offered no argument, he set the document aside. He was prepared for quite a different reaction this time and used the same low, persuasive voice that usually convinced even the most hesitant young woman to trust him. “I truly hope you’ll sign this document,” he said and opened the second one, which provided a substantial sum to be paid to her annually on the anniversary of the yet-to-be determined date their marriage legally ended. His lawyer had cleverly worded it without using the term divorce.
While she skimmed the one-page document, a band of guilt wrapped around his conscience and squeezed hard. He could not explain exactly why he did not want to tell her that an annulment would be virtually impossible to obtain because of his reputation. Harrison recalled how upset she had been when he had first uttered the word divorce, and he realized now that he had been overconfident, if not arrogant, when he had promised her an annulment.
Only slightly assuaged, his conscience demanded he face the uncomfortable truth that he actually wanted to see her able to live out the rest of her life in comfort. In spite of the fact she spoke her mind far too often and chose to defy him when it suited her, he sensed she possessed an inner goodness that made her extremely vulnerable. He dismissed the notion he could protect her from troubles and heartbreak. Experience had been a cruel taskmaster in that regard, and he refused to let a woman like Annabelle tempt him to believe otherwise.
She stopped reading before she had finished the entire document and shook her head. “As you must recall, I told you that I don’t want a settlement.”
He nodded. “I do, but if you’d trouble yourself to read just a bit further, you’ll find that you retain the right to reject the annual stipend at any given time.”
She cocked her head. “Even before the first payment?”
He pointed to the final paragraph, turned his head to be able to read it, and read it aloud. “ ‘Any and all payments can be terminated anytime by the recipient by providing written notification to Mr. Harrison Graymoor or his designated legal representative.’ ”
Her eyes lit with hope. After reading the entire document, she signed it. “Is that all you wanted to discuss?”
He smiled before he walked around the desk to open a side drawer. He removed a narrow case he had stored there before traipsing out to the cottage to find her and set it on top of the desk. “As far as anyone is concerned, which includes Irene and the rest of the staff here as well as in the city, we’re legally married and intend to stay that way, which makes it very important for you to wear a wedding ring. Mrs. Wilshire may have been the first to ask about it, but she won’t be the last,” he cautioned and opened the case.
She gaped at the contents and clapped one hand to her heart, which was precisely the reaction he had hoped she would have. “Mercy! How . . . how many rings did you buy?”
He chuckled. “A dozen, but I didn’t buy them. Once you’ve made your selection, the rest will be returned. Since you weren’t with me, I couldn’t be certain of the size, so there’s an assortment of sizes, too. If there’s a ring you like that’s too large for your finger, I can have it resized.” He felt a bit awkward about the whole process, since he had never planned to buy a wedding ring for any woman. Not ever.
He glanced down at the sparkling precious jewels embedded in most of the rings, which paled when set against the amazement that lit her features. He was curious to see which ring she would pick, but he was not surprised when she selected a delicate braided band of gold and platinum and slid it onto her finger.
“It fits perfectly,” she whispered in a voice cracked with emotion. He assumed it was due to the fact that the ring was a visible reminder of the vows they had exchanged so unwillingly.
“You can remove the ring anytime you’re all alone in your room, if you prefer. Otherwise, I’ll expect you to wear it.”
She dropped her gaze and her hand slipped to her lap to rest on top of her book. “Of course.”
“I need you to select a second one. I’m afraid the ring you selected isn’t quite appropriate for a number of important social events we’ll be attending.”
She looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. “We will? But I thought you wanted to keep me out of sight. Isn’t that why you moved me all the way out here?”
He moistened his lips. “That was before we encountered Philip and his guests.”
“If you expect me to accompany you to these affairs, wouldn’t it be easier if we lived in the city? I don’t understand why you think it’s better to live here.”
He let out a long breath. “The women of Philadelphia will be most anxious to meet you and will be sending invitations to visit. Living out here will make it easier for you to decline. Graymoor Gardens is just far enough west of the city to make traveling back and forth very inconvenient, although the snow that’s falling will be helpful in that regard.”
She wrapped her hands around the book on her lap. “Won’t those women expect to be invited here?”
He chuckled. “Proper etiquette dictates that no one would dare call on Mrs. Harrison Graymoor without being invited first, regardless of where she’s living.”
She cocked her head. “Are you that important?”
“Sadly, yes. Now, as I was saying, the social events we’ll be attending are rather formal affairs, which means you’ll need to wear a ring that is more in keeping with your status as my wife,” he cautioned gently.
She hesitated for a moment and shrugged. “Which one would you prefer I wear?” She slid off the ring she had chosen and laid it on top of the desk.
He selected the ring he favored most, a unique combination of opals and diamonds set into a slim band of gold, and slipped it onto her finger. The diamonds reflected the green tint in the center of the opals that also matched the color of her eyes, but he was disappointed to see that the ring was too large for her. “I prefer this one, but if you dislike it and want another, or you hold with the new idea that opals bring bad luck, I have no objection if you want to choose another. Otherwise, I can have this ring remade to fit you properly.”
“No, if you like it, then it’s fine. Besides, anyone foolish enough to believe that luck determines life’s fate rather than God’s grace also believes that opals are only bad luck when they’re not the wearer’s birthstone. My birthday is in October, which means the opal is my birthstone,” she said. She placed the ring back into the case before slipping the original one she had chosen back onto her finger.
Smiling, he closed the case. “Then it’s settled,” he suggested. Pleased that he had been able to charm her into doing exactly what he wanted so far, he hoped she would be just as agreeable to the rest of what he had to say. “As my wife, I also have other expectations, which will make life easier for both of us if we’re going to convince everyone that we take our vows seriously,” he began.
She rose to her feet and tucked the book back under her arm, but he was so much taller than she was, her obvious attempt to create the illusion they were equal failed miserably. “Since we don’t love each other, which will obviously be more difficult for me to feign than it will be for you, given your experience misleading women in matters of the heart, I can only reasonably conclude that you expect me to both honor and obey you.”
He smiled, although he already knew that outmaneuvering this quick-witted, intelligent woman would require his constant attention, along with a fair bit of patience to tolerate her barbs. “I’d be satisfied if you’d simply honor my requests and not challenge me in front of anyone else, since you’ve already proven you’re quite open to doing precisely that while we’re alone. If I order something for you, such as a suitable wardrobe, you can’t countermand my instructions and reduce the wardrobe by more than half.”
Her eyes flashed with surprise that he already knew how her morning had transpired, but she held her tongue.
>
Emboldened, he continued. “I also don’t expect nor can I allow you to perform chores such as washing dishes. Or to take your meals with the staff.”
“What exactly would you like me to do with myself all day?” she asked, as if the prospect of having the day to spend as she pleased was distressing.
“You can read. Or you can knit, although I’d rather not be in your presence again when you have such sharp weapons in your hands.” He focused his gaze on the knitting stick at her waist that seemed to be part of her regular wardrobe.
Blushing, she waved off his suggestions. “But surely it wouldn’t hurt to do some sort of work. Although this house is half the size of the one in the city, it takes a great deal of work to keep it in order.”
“It’s not your place, and you’ll only confuse the staff if you do any of the work that’s been assigned to them. Whether we’re in the city proper or here, you also can’t treat members of my staff or any other as if they’re your friends. You can’t share gossip with them, you can’t trust them to keep a secret, and you can’t reassure them that you have any authority over them because you don’t. There’s a strict hierarchy among the staff, with either Mrs. Faye or Irene at the top, just below me. We have the final word on any matters concerning the staff.”
Her cheeks flushed bright pink. “You’re talking about Lotte, aren’t you!”
“You shouldn’t have offered the sweets to her, and she should have known better than to take them,” he said firmly.
“She’s been reprimanded?” she whispered, clearly distressed.
“Mrs. Faye fired her.”
“That isn’t fair! She can’t do that.”
“Yes, she can, and I won’t override her decision where the staff is concerned or any decision Irene makes, either. Not without making either of them appear weak in front of the employees they oversee. Otherwise, they’ll all run to me—or you will on their behalf—every time there’s a silly squabble. And I have no desire to waste my time settling matters that are of no real consequence.”
She blinked hard, visibly struggling for control. “Well said for a man with such incredible wealth that he’s willing to squander it foolishly by giving it to a woman who doesn’t want it. I’m sorry if I broke one of the many rules you seem to live by in this city, but Lotte is just a very young woman. She shouldn’t be punished for my mistake,” she whispered.
When he tried to speak, she held up her hand. “You’ve made it very clear that I have no say in the matter, so I’ll just agree that I’ll try to remember all your rules and follow them. For appearances’ sake, I’ll also honor and obey you. I just won’t like it, and I most assuredly won’t be tempted to like you very much, either.” She walked over to put the book she had selected back onto the shelf and left the room.
Harrison stared at the door she had eased closed for a good long time. Oddly troubled that he had brought her close to tears, he was even more surprised that he actually cared what she thought of him. He raked his fingers through his hair. She was a very troublesome woman, the likes of which he had never had to handle before.
He immediately dismissed the thought when Irene charged into the room and shut the door behind her. With hands on her hips, she glared at him. “Whatever did you say to that sweet wife of yours? She was trembling so badly when I passed her in the hall that I took her right to your room and promised I’d bring her a cup of hot tea to help calm her down.”
He drew in a long, deep breath. Moving out to Graymoor Gardens had also put him back in the same house with another troublesome woman he could not control, even if he tried. For half a second he seriously considered returning to the city mansion, until he remembered that Philip was living there. “I was only trying to explain that—”
“I don’t need to know what you were explaining. Just try harder to do it better, and I know more than anyone else that you’re capable of doing that. Or have you lost every bit of common sense and decency you possess to the ills of that city you called home for the past eight years?” She used the same no-nonsense tone he had heard for years, then turned and marched back out of the room.
Harrison threw his hands up in the air. If he had any sense at all, which Irene seemed to think he did, he would go straight back to his home in the city, where not a single member of the staff would dare challenge him. Even though he would have to tolerate having Philip living there until he left for Boston, he found the idea appealing.
And he had no idea how soon he would have any interest in venturing back to Graymoor Gardens, if indeed he would ever return at all.
Chapter Ten
Keeping her promise to obey her husband had already stretched the limits of Annabelle’s endurance, in spite of the fact that he had left Graymoor Gardens last night right after supper to return to the city.
She rose just before dawn the next morning and said her morning prayers. Although she was grateful to have this sleeping room to herself until he returned, she had the sense he would not come back to live here at all if he had any choice in the matter.
In point of fact, she much preferred the homey sleeping room here over the very lavish one in the city, although she was not accustomed to having such a large room—even larger than the parlor in her family home. The painted walls suggested just a blush of pink, but the heirloom quilt on the bed was made with fabrics of shades ranging from the deepest rose to a pink so pale it appeared to be white at first glance. The furniture was sturdy enough, but there were enough scars and nicks in the wood to suggest it had been here a very long time.
She pulled back the heavy night curtain that covered the window overlooking the front of the estate, but she had to narrow her gaze to see much of anything in the dim gray light. Once she realized that the snowstorm that had started yesterday had dumped much more than a foot of snow, she dropped the curtain back into place. Undeterred, she dressed as quickly as she could in the dark, slid her cape around her shoulders, and carried her gloves with her as she slipped out of the room.
At this hour, she doubted she would see either Alan or Peggy, but she wanted to avoid Irene most of all as she tiptoed down the hallway. Annabelle knew the woman was concerned about her, in spite of her efforts to convince the woman otherwise.
As she worked her way down the staircase, she held tight to the banister. Torn between keeping her promise to treat Irene as merely a member of the staff and not the friend she suspected Irene could be, she went directly to the front door and left the house.
Outside, the air was frigid. The sun had not struggled past the gray horizon yet, leaving the world bathed in dim, hazy light, but she could hear the sound of the icy river that flowed through the city. Anxious to dispel the cabin fever, she pulled up her hood and donned her gloves.
After taking a deep breath of fresh, cold air, she started down the circular driveway that Alan had shoveled clear after supper last night. She had no intention of trudging through the snow-covered landscape but simply planned to walk back and forth, from one end of the drive to the other, until she drove out every last vestige of her pent-up energy.
She walked as briskly as she dared without losing her footing and was grateful to be living out here in the country, where life was more familiar and she had much more freedom than she would ever have had in the city. When she reached the end of the drive and turned to retrace her steps, she noticed a series of footsteps in the snow that wound from somewhere behind the house and disappeared down the gently sloping ground into the woods.
Her spirit soared. She did not know who had been walking outside last night, but she was excited that their footsteps had packed down the snow so she could follow. Looking closer, she saw that the path actually appeared to start from the side door of the cottage where smoke was rising from the kitchen chimney. Apparently Irene was already up and preparing to cook breakfast, but there were no telltale aromas that would make Annabelle’s stomach growl. Anxious to leave before Irene spotted her, she followed the footsteps that led her through a
thick stand of barren trees.
Without any foliage to block her view while she walked, she could easily see the eastern sky and the wildlife that struggled to survive the harsh winter. Close by, an owl hooted a good-bye to the night. A black cloud of crows flapped directly over her head, while two other flocks hugged the branches of adjoining trees. Overall, the landscape was a stark winter portrait, painted in nature’s unforgiving tones of black and white without a hint of color. It reminded her that Harrison’s rules left no room for exceptions.
“Don’t do this. Don’t do that,” she grumbled and kicked at a clump of snow. “What he really meant was don’t think. Not beyond the rules I must follow.”
Hopeful that she would not have to wait long to escape the strict boundaries he had imposed, she was still annoyed with herself for not being able to control her temper when he had imposed his rigid expectations of her. If she had remained calm, she might have been able to reason with him, at least to the point that he might have agreed to reconsider what had happened to poor Lotte and perhaps even rehired her.
She dropped her gaze and kicked at the footprints in the snow as she walked, imagining that she was kicking away her promise to blindly obey him—a promise that had left her afraid to say anything to the staff that might encourage conversation. “I’m not some mindless puppet he can manipulate,” she cried, surprised that she had spoken loud enough to hear her words echo through the woods.
“I should hope not.”
Startled, she stopped so abruptly she nearly lost her footing. Annabelle looked around and saw Irene sitting on a bench just a few yards away facing the horizon.
Irene smiled at her. “There’s enough room for two, if you’d care to join us. You’ll need to walk very slowly so you don’t scare my little friend here and make him run off before he finishes his breakfast.”
Curious, Annabelle took a few deliberate steps toward the bench until she was able to see a black squirrel sitting on top of the snow just a few feet in front of Irene. It was nibbling at a nut of some kind. She stopped immediately, more afraid of engaging in conversation with Irene than she was of getting close to the wild animal. “I had no idea anyone was out here. I shouldn’t intrude.”
