Page 47 of With Love in Sight
A decided gleam entered his pewter eyes. She was suddenly, achingly reminded of their days of adventuring.
“What do you say to a bit of exploring?”
“Exploring?”
He waved his hands about expansively. “This house is nearly three hundred years old. There has been an incredible amount of history in those centuries.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Some of it quite unsavory, indeed.”
Imogen felt a smile tug at her mouth and the stirrings of excitement in her blood. There was nothing she would like more than to delve into every nook and cranny of this amazing house. “That sounds wonderful.”
The happiness that suffused his expression was blinding. Her pulse leaped, but she shook it off and turned to her father. “Papa,” she said loudly.
He looked up, obviously reluctant to leave his book. “Yes, my dear?”
“Lord Willbridge is generous enough to bring me on a tour of the house this morning and tell me some of its history. Would you like to join us?”
Beside her she could hear Caleb give a soft growl of frustration. She hid a smile. Point one for her.
“That sounds magnificent!” her father exclaimed. “Why, I do believe there’s a house of similar design not far from here. It belonged to Queen Elizabeth when she was quite young, and to King James after. I wonder, my lord, if…”
As her father expounded on historical details, comparing the two houses and questioning Caleb relentlessly, Imogen settled back in her seat and finished her food off with much more enthusiasm than before. So this was the secret to self-preservation in the coming weeks, was it? Now if she could only engage a third person on most of their outings and refrain from being in solitary company with Caleb, she just might come out of this with her sanity intact.
• • •
She could not, however, hope to keep her father’s attention forever, despite the great draw a house such as Caleb’s commanded.
As soon as they reached the last room and Caleb suggested a walk in the gardens, her father excused himself and scurried off to the library once more. It was with much more reserve than she had shown throughout the pleasant morning that she took hold of Caleb’s arm and allowed him to lead her out of doors.
The sun shone warmly on her as she stepped into the small sunken garden just off the house. A stone pool graced the center, and as they approached, a number of birds took flight, the flapping of their wings like a hush on the still air. A small, simple fountain stood at the center of the pool, water breaking over its top and trickling down with musical grace. Tall, manicured hedges surrounded three sides of the space, giving it a feel of privacy and otherworldliness. At the far end was a fanciful walkway built through the hedge itself.
Caleb silently guided her down one side of the garden, their boots crunching on the gravel path. It was a lovely moment, and though she knew it would pain her in the years to come, she memorized every bit of it, tucking it away to pore over later.
His voice broke through the magical silence, and yet only seemed to enhance it, the intimacy of his deep baritone shivering through her. “Do I dare hope that you like Willowhaven, Imogen?”
It was the first either of them had spoken aloud since they had parted from her father. She continued at his side, trying to formulate a reply to his question, something he seemed to ask with heartfelt curiosity. How could she even begin to vocalize how she felt about his home?
Because the truth was, she absolutely adored it. Every bit of decorative plasterwork, every tile, every inch of silky wood. Even the ridiculous stories he had told that morning about dissolute monarchs and noblemen, the strange histories that had taken place inside these walls; she held it all in her heart. She could see herself living here. She felt at home. And the thought of leaving this place, of leaving him forever, made her want to weep.
Finally, she could delay no longer. “It is wonderful here,” she said with a small sigh.
They reached the opening in the hedge. Caleb stopped and turned her to face him, gently taking hold of her arms. “Could you learn to love it, I wonder?”
She wanted to cry out that she already did, almost as much as she loved him. But she reined in her tongue and stepped to the side, effectively extricating herself from his loose grip.
“This avenue is lovely,” she said firmly, waving her arms toward the oak trees that lined each side of the path stretching on ahead of them. Their heavy branches reached out over the walk to protect whoever should happen to stroll in their shade.
He came up beside her, not touching her, and yet she could feel the heat of him across the small space that separated them. His voice was casual, as if to put her at ease.
“Beyond this avenue is the River Spratt. Well, it is so narrow here that it resembles more of a brook, really, unless we get a torrential downpour. There is a stone bridge there as well as some truly beautiful willow trees that I would love to show you, if you’re amenable?”
She nodded, placing her fingers on his offered arm. Just as they were about to pass through the hedge, however, a figure came around it, colliding with them and nearly toppling Imogen to the ground.
Chapter 20
Caleb steadied her. “Imogen, are you hurt?”
“No, not at all. No harm done,” she said, waving him off. He had put his arm around her, and that along with the confusion from the impact was making her feel decidedly dizzy.
She looked up to see who had caused the commotion and was surprised to find Lady Emily standing before them. Her face was pale, her scar standing out in vivid relief on her cheek. Her eyes seemed puffy and slightly red-rimmed, as if she’d been crying. She had her shawl clasped about her shoulders with a white-knuckled grip. Within the cage of her fingers Imogen thought she caught sight of a snowy handkerchief.
