Annie watched from the upper window of the sitting room as the servant ran from the house to the coach in the rain. He lifted the umbrella high, shielding the drops, and opened the door as her mother stepped out.
After taking her mother inside, he returned for her father.
The scent of rosewater wafted in the air. Barrett had slipped behind her.
She bent her knee, dropped her hip, stiffened her elbow in an L shape and clasped her right arm. But instead of throwing the elbow into his midsection, she threw herself into his arms. She tumbled against his chest and he captured her.
‘You could just say good morning.’ His voice rumbled as he rested his face against her head. Her heart tightened and a flush of love warmed her from the inside out.
‘Not until you kiss me.’
He clasped her more tightly, lifted her and swung her around, rotating a full turn, taking her feet off the ground with his movement, her skirts fluttering at her slippers. As he let her feet drop to the floor and before she fully caught her balance, he quickly kissed the top of her head several times. ‘Satisfied?’
Letting out a deep sigh, she leaned against him. ‘For this morning.’
She heard footsteps on the stair and the Barrett she knew slipped back inside himself. He stepped away from her.
He gave a small bow to her parents as they rushed into the doorway. ‘Mrs Carson. Carson.’
Her mother held a letter in her gloved hand, the felted tassels from her coat sleeve almost obscuring the missive.
‘Oh, Annie.’ She looked around the house, her brows furrowed. ‘I like what you’ve done with the house. It looks so...medieval.’
‘I suspect the chainmail will be finding a home elsewhere in the house,’ Barrett said. ‘Annie’s become friends with an archaeologist and he presented it to her as a token of his appreciation for her funding his next adventure.’
‘I think he had it altered especially for me. Or pieced together. I’m not sure exactly how it was constructed.’
Her mother walked over and jabbed her index finger against the metal. ‘Interesting.’
‘Yes.’ Barrett locked his hands behind his back and looked at the floor. ‘And I am not opposed to it. I just think perhaps we have a few too many artillery pieces.’
‘None are functional.’ Annie pointed to the spears. ‘Papier mâché.’
Her mother gazed around the room. ‘I suppose a future viscountess will be allowed some leeway and archaeology is a bit of a fashion at the moment.’ She looked at a glass vase. ‘What’s that?’
‘Sand. From Egypt.’
Her mother nodded while her father absently shook his head and breathed out through his nose.
‘That is fascinating, but not as happy as my news.’ Her mother waved the letter high, the fringe on her coat sleeve falling away. ‘Laura will be here in a few months. She is returning to London.’
Her father sniffled, keeping his head low. ‘All my daughters will be together again. I can hardly believe it.’ When he raised his face and looked at Barrett, tears glistened in his eyes. ‘Thank you for seeing that Honour is back as well. You brought my whole family together.’
‘It’s nothing,’ Barrett said. ‘Much easier than sitting with my father every few days. I appreciate that, Carson. He is calmer after your visits.’
‘I rather like the Viscount.’ Carson regained his composure. ‘Sad his mind has waned so. You would not believe the tales he fabricates. He claims to have switched you at birth with another baby.’ Carson rolled his eyes. ‘Said he had another son the same age as you. Said your grandmother took one look at the new baby and made him change them back. Said you wet on him on the way home.’
‘Interesting,’ Barrett said.
‘He’s told me that story fifteen times if he’s told me it once.’ Carson shrugged, leaning towards Barrett and lowering his voice. ‘Always laughs. Said he knew from that moment on that you’d grow up to be a son he could be proud of.’
‘You do well with him,’ Barrett said.
‘He thinks you’re married to a sorceress, though,’ Carson whispered. ‘I remind him you’re married to our Annie, but he claims you married an evil witch with blazing eyes. He’s afraid to be alone.’
‘But he’s doing well,’ Annie said.
‘Yes,’ her father agreed. ‘And the man knows more about financial affairs than anyone I’ve ever listened to.’ He looked at Barrett. ‘He insists I take notes and I’ve now filled up my first notebook. And a second one with all the tall tales. He wants them written down for a grandchild. As if I would ever show such a book to a grandchild of mine.’ He touched the side of his head. ‘Poor man. He’s so delusional.’
‘It’s wonderful that you’re making him contented,’ Annie said.
She viewed her mother. ‘The maid will be bringing us...tea...in a moment. I so like your blend. And I have teacups for each day of the week, just like you do.’
Her mother raised her chin. ‘I’m so happy you are keeping the family tradition.’
Then Annie went to the tiny gong and picked up the small mallet and hit it. The ring reverberated, summoning the maid.
Barrett stared at the floor.
Her father squinted and looked at Barrett. ‘That’s not a family tradition. She’s not the girl I raised.’
Barrett didn’t lift his eyes, but Annie saw the grin. ‘But it’s the woman I married.’
In a few moments Myrtle walked into the room.
‘Tea, please,’ Annie said.
Myrtle nodded, whispering, ‘And I’ve hid the coffee so your family will not know you’re drinking the swill.’
‘Thank you.’
Myrtle bowed. ‘Yes, Miss Annie.’
In a few moments, she returned with the tea and the hour passed quickly with Barrett relaxing back in his chair and adding little to the chatter but a smile here and there.
‘Well, we must be going,’ her mother said, after finishing the tea and moving to the doorway. ‘We only stopped to tell you the news about Laura. I wanted to get a toy for Honour’s little one. I’ve heard they have cute little silver rattles and I thought it would make a lovely keepsake for Honour.’ She looked around the room again. ‘Lovely, dearest. Definitely suitable for a future viscountess.’
Then she scurried out, Carson behind her.
After they left, Annie walked to Barrett, slipping her arm through his. ‘I thought you liked the chainmail.’
‘I do. But I don’t think it’s appropriate for the sitting room.’ He touched his upper lip, tapping. ‘I’ve never seen how it fits on you, either. I have some ideas about that.’ He walked over to examine the garment, the links slipping through his fingertips.
‘There’s a little warning voice in my head right now,’ Annie said. ‘It’s telling me that your thoughts are not exactly innocent.’
He smiled and stepped to put an arm around Annie’s waist. ‘As I said, you should always listen to your inner voice.’
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