Hidden Affections

by Delia Parr

  When she turned around to face the men again, she met Eric’s gaze and saw a brief flash of surprise in his eyes that disappeared when she stared long and hard back at him. “What would you like for dessert, Mr. Bradley?”

  He grinned at her. “I’ve never been able to pass up apple pie, but I wouldn’t mind a dish of custard, as well. I had some exceptional sweet custard a while back when I was traveling, which, sad to say, was the only highlight of a rather miserable experience,” he said, chuckling as he looked from one end of the table to the other. “I’m certain you gentlemen have each endured journeys that were less pleasurable than you had hoped,” he added. “It’s been my experience, however, that those are the trips that often end up yielding rewards you never anticipated at the time. I can only hope this will be true of this trip to Philadelphia with my wife. She’s been quite upset that we’ve gotten stranded here.”

  Stung, Annabelle silently fumed at his audacity as Philip replied, “I would have to agree with you. In all truth, I’ve learned over the years not to judge my efforts during a journey too quickly. Inevitably, some good always comes of honest effort.”

  Harrison nodded, but caught Annabelle’s gaze and held it when he smiled at her. “I once thought my last trip might end up a total failure, but as you both know, my life was changed altogether once I met and married Annabelle.”

  Although she might have believed he meant his words as a double entendre only the two of them would understand, his gaze was too steady and his smile too dazzling to be anything but sincere. Although she accepted his compliment as yet another example of his ability to charm most everyone he met, it eased the sting of Eric’s veiled reference to her failure as a wife and his pending plans to extort even more from Harrison than the meager inheritance he had taken from her.

  Dropping her gaze, Annabelle waited until Irene had put Eric’s dessert on the table in front of him before facing Philip. Dear, sweet Philip. He was so earnest and kind, she doubted he had any notion that men like Eric Bradley even existed in the selfless world he had made for himself.

  Still, she did notice that he looked at her rather intently several times tonight when he thought she was not looking, but dismissed Harrison and Irene’s idea that he had become smitten with her. “What would you like tonight?”

  “Those almond crescent cookies, and don’t be stingy, Irene,” he teased and winked at the housekeeper.

  In return, Irene piled cookies onto his plate so high that Annabelle had to tread lightly to make sure none of the cookies slipped off the plate before she set it down in front of him. “If you’d like more, there’s plenty.”

  “I think I’d like a small sampling of everything, especially since you didn’t make anything with plums in it for a change,” Harrison teased as Irene walked past the back of his chair.

  After Irene cut a slice of pie and stacked three of each kind of cookie onto his plate, she set it in front of him before she took her leave. In the meantime, Annabelle filled a small cup with custard, placed it next to his dessert plate, and took a step back. “With your permission, I’d like to leave the three of you now, too. I know you have important business to discuss, but since I have little to offer in this regard—”

  “On the contrary,” Eric argued. “Philip and your husband have an opportunity at the Refuge that my wife and I are most interested in pursuing. They’ve both mentioned the work you’re doing at the Refuge for those pitiful women and their children. When I told my wife about it, she was curious to know more. I’m afraid I promised her that I’d ask if you’d be kind enough to show me your efforts firsthand before we make any commitment to the new addition at the Refuge.” He looked at Harrison and Philip. “Perhaps you two gentlemen would be able to join us.”

  Philip shook his head. “If you want to know anything about the Refuge as it stands now, Annabelle is the best one to show you. I’d be glad to join you afterward, though, to show you where we would like to add the workshop.”

  Harrison cleared his throat. “Since I usually escort my wife to the Refuge, I may as well stay and join you when she shows you around the facility. Is there a day next week that suits you best?” he asked Eric.

  Before he could answer, Philip held up his hand. “The only day next week I have any time free is on Thursday. If that doesn’t suit everyone else, I could try to change one of my other appointments.”

  “Any day next week suits me,” Harrison offered and looked to Eric.

  When Eric’s gaze hardened briefly, Annabelle caught her breath and held it for several long heartbeats before exhaling. She and Eric were scheduled to meet again next Thursday, but she would be ecstatic if he had to postpone their rendezvous, particularly since she had not thought of a different location where they could meet. Besides, if he had to push their meeting back, he might also extend his final deadline, too.

  “Although I have another meeting planned for next Thursday morning that’s rather important, I’m fairly certain I can reschedule it for the afternoon. Let’s plan on Thursday morning at ten o’clock for now. I’ll let you both know if I have a problem and need to reschedule our meeting until the following week.”

  Disappointed to get only a few hours’ reprieve, Annabelle also decided she would find some excuse to make it impossible for her to see him next Thursday afternoon. “If that’s settled, I should like to bid you all a good night.” She got Harrison’s nod of approval and left the dining room before Eric found another excuse to keep her there.

  She mounted the staircase and went straight to her room, only to find Irene waiting there for her. “You might be able to fool every one of those three men downstairs, but you can’t fool me any longer. Something’s been wrong for nearly a week now, and I’m going to stay right here until you tell me what it is.”

  Harrison went straight to Annabelle’s room before the coach carrying his guests back to the city had reached the end of the circular driveway in front of the house.

  Even though she had left the table a good four hours ago and there was not a sliver of light coming from beneath her door, he was troubled enough by events tonight to knock at her door anyway. When the door eased open, Irene nudged him back when she stepped out of the room into the hall and closed the door behind her. She held one finger to her lips and motioned for him to follow, and she led him into the library.

  Once she closed the door behind them, she gave him the most disappointing look he had ever seen her wear when she was about to give him a lecture.

  “What’s wrong? Is Annabelle truly ill?” he asked.

  She sighed and shook her head. “If you consider a broken heart to be a sign of illness, then I’d have to say yes. She’s ill, which is why I sat with her until she finally fell asleep about fifteen minutes ago.”

  He furrowed his brow. “A broken heart?”

  “That’s my diagnosis, although she didn’t admit to it,” Irene replied. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on between the two of you, and Annabelle is too loyal to you to tell me much of anything. My guess is that the gossip that’s apparently churning in the city about the two of you is simply too hard for her to bear on top of knowing that you aren’t happy with her.”

  “I never said I wasn’t happy—”

  “For a man supposed to be a charmer, I thought you’d know that it doesn’t matter what you say. It’s what you actually do that matters,” she argued. “I’m not the one to judge what you’ve done to make her so upset tonight, but anyone with a pair of eyes in his head should have been able to see that she hasn’t been herself for a good while. I can’t tell you what you need to do to let her know how much you love her, but you need to do it now. You might try spending the night with her instead of skulking in here to sleep every night on the pretext that you’re so restless when you sleep you’re afraid to hurt her again. That’s nonsense. You know it, and I know it. And if you have any plan to keep her out here permanently while you go back to the city mansion to enjoy the life you led when you were single, don
’t count on me to help you win her back when you finally come to your senses—because it’ll be too late. Once you’ve set a woman outside of your life, she won’t ever trust you not to do it again.” And with that she turned and walked out of the room.

  Totally confused, he stared at the door she had closed behind her for a very long time. He was more than annoyed that Annabelle had spoken so frankly to Irene about their marriage, although she had not broken the illusion that she had married him because she loved him. After the long talks they had shared together at night, he found it hard to believe he had missed how unhappy she was and simply assumed she found entertaining to be overwhelming.

  Rather than spend the entire night here in the library, which would only incur Irene’s wrath in the morning, he went back to Annabelle’s room, pulled a chair next to her bed, and sat down. The few embers still glowing in the fireplace did not provide enough light to see more than the silhouette of her face, but he could see every one of her features with his mind’s eye.

  From her pale green eyes to her oval face to her long blond hair, she was a flawless beauty. But it was her giving heart and her strong faith in God—as well as her ability to bring out the best in him—that led him to nearly the same conclusion that Irene had flung at him.

  He did not love Annabelle as Irene had claimed, but he was definitely on the verge of falling deeply in love with her.

  And, torn between loving her and the searing pain he knew would come if he ever lost her or the children they might have together, he silenced the yearning in his heart and soul for this woman and made a vow to separate himself from her before it was too late.

  To distract himself from questioning his decision or from worrying about what he would do about Irene when she learned he had actually divorced Annabelle, he kept his mind occupied by thinking about Eric Bradley . . . and tried to understand why the more time he spent with the man, the more he disliked him.

  Annabelle stirred awake just after dawn, but gave a start when she rolled over and saw Harrison sleeping in the chair next to her bed. She did not know how long he had been there, but he must have been there all night if Irene had spoken to him after Philip and Eric had left last night as she had threatened to do.

  Since she had promised Irene to sleep late today instead of meeting her at the bench or in the kitchen before breakfast for her lessons, she had no excuse to give him for slipping out of her room without speaking to him. She had no place to hide if he woke up and found her missing, either, so she glumly accepted the fact that she would have to explain herself to him as soon as he woke up.

  She lifted herself up and leaned on her elbow to take advantage of this unusual opportunity to study him unobserved, but he opened his eyes just when she got comfortable in the new position, and she froze in place.

  “I’d bid you a good morning, but I’d rather wait to hear your explanation for why you told Irene you were unhappy in our marriage before I jump to any conclusions about the day,” he said as he stood up and arched his back to stretch his cramped muscles.

  She swallowed hard. “You know how intuitive Irene can be. She senses something isn’t quite right between us, and I needed to tell her something that would satisfy her, at least for now. And to be precise, I didn’t tell her I was unhappy,” she added. “I said you were.”

  He grew still, furrowed his brow, and stared down at her. “And that makes a difference?”

  Before her arm turned numb from supporting her, she sat up and arranged the bedclothes to cover herself as best she could. “It makes all the difference, and before you start lecturing me about not revealing anything about our relationship to her, you might want to think about something else first.”

  He snorted and rotated his head in a circle, as if he was trying to ease a crick in his neck. “I spent most of the night in that awful chair wondering if there was anything you could say to me that would justify what she says you told her, but I still have no idea why you did. Enlighten me.”

  She drew in a deep breath. “It’s the middle of January. If your lawyer is correct, you should be getting word in a matter of weeks that we’re divorced. I know you’re planning to keep our divorce a secret for some time before you announce it, but did it ever occur to you that unless Irene has some sense that we’re not getting along now, she’ll try her best to keep me from leaving in less than a month?”

  He snorted again and dropped back into his seat. “I should have known better than to move out here. She’s a troublesome, meddlesome woman who—”

  “Who loves you very much,” she offered. “She only wants what’s best for you . . . or what she thinks is best for you.” She twisted the end of the covers with her hands. “I’m sorry. I know I should have spoken to you first before I told her anything, but when I got back to my room last night, she was waiting for me and demanded to know what was wrong last night. I had to say something.”

  He blew out a long breath, cradled the back of his neck with his hands, and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. “You don’t need to apologize. You’re right. I’ve been so preoccupied with convincing her we were happily married just to keep her from suspecting anything was wrong that I didn’t stop to think how I was going to explain to her why we were happy one day and you were leaving the next,” he admitted and sighed. “I know that as far as Irene is concerned, I’ll take full blame for ending our marriage, but you made matters worse by telling her I was breaking your heart. Was that really necessary?”

  She clapped her hand to her heart, but dropped it when she realized he might assume she was trying to hold the pieces of her heart together. “I never said any such thing!”

  “Maybe you didn’t actually put it into so many words, but that’s what she claims you meant,” he countered.

  She huffed. “I don’t see how it hurts if she thinks I’m heartbroken . . . or would you prefer for her to think I’ve feigned my affection for you and only married you for your fortune like everyone else in the city believes?”

  He dropped his gaze and rubbed the scars on his wrist. “I’m sorry. I had no idea that this marriage of ours would end up being so complicated or so difficult for you to endure, even temporarily.”

  “You couldn’t know. Neither could I,” she murmured. “It really won’t be that much longer until your lawyer gets word that your petition for divorce has been granted, will it?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t expect it to be, but I’ll see my lawyer tomorrow. Perhaps he can give me a better idea of how much longer it will take.” He got to his feet. “In the meantime, we’ll just have to make certain we talk things through each night like we’ve been doing. I only have one other concern I wanted to discuss with you.”

  She nodded. “Of course. What is it?”

  “Eric Bradley,” he said and paused to clench and unclench his jaw. “I may not like the way my own cousin looks at you, but I intensely dislike the way Bradley was looking at you last night. I’m a fairly good judge of character, and I simply don’t trust the man. I don’t ever want you to be alone with him for any reason,” he said firmly, then cocked his head and looked at her closely. “Now that I’ve had a chance to think about it, I suspect you weren’t yourself last night at supper because he made you feel uncomfortable. Am I wrong?”

  “No, I . . . I don’t like him, either,” she admitted. She had to figure out a way to send Eric Bradley and his malicious threats out of her life, as well as Harrison’s. Permanently.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  As the following Thursday unfolded, the unexpected became the norm before Annabelle even left Graymoor Gardens.

  Peggy, Alan, and Lotte were all sick in bed with a stomach ailment that had started during the night, and Irene was so busy running back and forth between their rooms to clean up every time they retched or to change soiled bedclothes, she had had no time to cook breakfast, let alone take her lessons.

  Annabelle actually prepared the morning meal, which she and Harrison ate in the kitchen. After fixi
ng a plate for Irene and cleaning up a bit, she hurried back to the main house to grab her cape. They had less than an hour to get to the city for their meeting with Eric, and she hoped Harrison was not annoyed with her for taking so long.

  He was pacing the length of the foyer, dressed to leave, when she arrived. She offered him an apology as she retrieved her cape.

  “You don’t need to apologize or rush into your cape. I’ll be going into the city alone this morning.”

  Stunned by his unexpected announcement, she held the cape in front of her. “I’m not going?”

  “While I was waiting for you, I received a note from my lawyer. He says it’s absolutely urgent that we meet as soon as possible, which can only mean he must have news about our divorce,” he said, obviously aware there was not a member of the staff around to overhear him. “I sent a note back to him with his messenger and assured him I’d be able to meet with him this morning at nine o’clock. I expect to be there a good while. Clearly, this is far more important than our meeting with Bradley. Since I won’t be able to be there at all, I won’t have you seeing him alone.” He started to cross his arms over his chest, but dropped them before she could offer a frown of disapproval.

  She caught her breath and held it for a moment. From the drawn expression on Harrison’s face, she could not tell if he was more anxious to learn if they were finally divorced or worried that she might not defer to his wishes. “I won’t be meeting with Mr. Bradley alone. Philip will be there, and he can bring me back home in a private coach from your city home.” She slipped into her cape without his help.

  She prayed her argument was convincing enough. If she could see Eric this morning and get him to tell her the amount of money he wanted her to give him, she would not have to see him in the afternoon. If Harrison’s divorce petition had already been granted, she would never have to see him again, since his plan would be thwarted long before the two-week deadline when he expected to receive his money.