“Imagine when all the candles are lit,” Annabelle exclaimed, standing back to view it. “It will be a glorious sight.”

“Yes,” Westcliff rejoined dryly. “Not to mention the greatest fire hazard in Hampshire.”

“You were absolutely right to choose such a large tree,” Annabelle told Lillian.

“Yes, I think” Lillian paused only briefly as she saw someone come into the room. A very tall and piratical-looking someone who could only be Simon Hunt, Annabelle’s husband. Although Hunt had begun his career working in his father’s butcher shop, he had eventually become one of the wealthiest men in England, owning locomotive foundries and a large portion of the railway business. He was Lord Westcliff’s closest friend, a man’s man who appreciated good liquor and fine horses and demanding sports. But it was no secret that what Simon Hunt loved most in the world was Annabelle.

“I think,” Lillian continued as Hunt walked quietly up behind Annabelle, “the tree is perfect. And I think someone had very good timing in arriving so late that he didn’t have to decorate even one bloody branch of it.”

“Who?” Annabelle asked, and started a little as Simon Hunt put his hands lightly over her eyes. Smiling, he bent to murmur something private into her ear.

Color swept over the portion of Annabelle’s face that was still exposed. Realizing who was behind her, she reached up to pull his hands down to her lips, and she kissed each of his palms in turn. Wordlessly she turned in his arms, laying her head against his chest.

Hunt gathered her close. “I’m still covered in travel dust,” he said gruffly. “But I couldn’t wait another damned second to see you.”

Annabelle nodded, her arms clutching around his neck. The moment was so spontaneously tender and passionate that it cast a vaguely embarrassed silence through the room.

After kissing the top of his wife’s head, Hunt looked up with a smile and extended his hand to Westcliff. “It’s good to be here at last,” he said. “Too much to be done in London I left with a mountain of things unfinished.”

“Your presence has been sorely missed,” the earl said, shaking his hand firmly.

Still holding Annabelle with one arm, Hunt greeted the rest of them cordially.

“St. Vincent is still away?” Hunt asked Evie, and she nodded. “Any word on the duke’s health?”

“I’m af-fraid not.”

Hunt looked sympathetic. “I’m sure St. Vincent will be here soon.”

“And you’re among friends who love you,” Lillian added, putting her arm around Evie’s shoulders.

“And there is v-very good wine,” Evie said with a smile.

“Will you have a glass, Hunt?” Westcliff asked, indicating the tray on a nearby table.

“Thank you, but no,” Hunt said affably, pulling Annabelle’s arm through his. “If you’ll pardon us, I have a few things to discuss with my wife.” And without waiting for an answer, he dragged Annabelle from the ballroom with a haste that left no doubt as to what would happen next.

“Yes, I’m sure they’ll be chatting up a storm,” Rafe remarked, and winced as Lillian drove her elbow hard into his side.

CHAPTER 10

Every common room of the manor was busy after supper. Some guests played cards, others gathered around the piano in the music room and sang, but by far the largest group had gathered in the drawing room for a game of charades. Their shouting and laughter echoed far along the hallways.

Hannah watched the charades for a while, enjoying the antics of competing teams that acted out words or phrases, while others shouted out guesses. She noticed that Rafe Bowman and Natalie were sitting together, smiling and exchanging private quips. They were an extraordinarily well-matched pair, one so dark, one so fair, both young and attractive. Glancing at them made Hannah feel positively morose.

She was relieved when the case clock in the corner showed that it was a quarter to eight. Leaving the room unobtrusively, she went into the hallway. It was such a relief to be out of the crowded drawing room, and not to have to smile when she didn’t feel like it, that she heaved a tremendous sigh and leaned against the wall with her eyes closed.

“Miss Appleton?”

Hannah’s eyes flew open. It was Lillian, Lady Westcliff, who had followed her out of the room.

“It is a bit of a crush in there, isn’t it?” the countess asked with friendly sympathy.

Hannah nodded. “I’m not fond of large gatherings.”

“Neither am I,” Lillian confided. “My greatest pleasure is to relax in a small group with my friends, or better yet, to be alone with my husband and daughter. You’re going to the library to read to the children, aren’t you?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“That’s very nice of you. I heard they all enjoyed it tremendously last evening. May I walk with you to the library?”

“Yes, my lady, I would enjoy that.”

Lillian surprised her by linking arms with her, as if they were sisters or close friends. They went along the hallway at a slow pace. “Miss Appleton, I…oh, hang it, I hate these formalities. May we use first names?”

“I would be honored for you to call me by my given name, my lady. But I can’t do the same. It wouldn’t be proper.”

Lillian gave her a rueful glance. “All right, then. Hannah. I’ve wanted to talk with you all evening there is something highly private I want to discuss with you, but it must go no further. And I probably shouldn’t say anything, but I must. I won’t be able to get any sleep to night otherwise.”