Read Secrets of a Perfect Night for Free Online

demolishing the mountain on his plate. Then he paused and reached for his coffee; he looked down the table at her while he sipped.
    Lowering the cup, he smiled. “The coffee’s good, too—I would never have imagined you could make it.”
    Abby pulled a face at him. “Millie Watkins usually does, or Agnes, but I’m not totally helpless.”
    “So how bad is it?” With his head, he indicated outside. “How many days, do you think?”
    Abby rose and walked down the kitchen to the window at the far end and peeked through a gap in the shutters. All she could see was white—the snow was piled almost to the top of the window. “Four days at least—more likely a week.” She returned to the table. “You know how it is—it’ll take a few days of warmer weather before it thaws.”

    Retaking her chair, she studied him, more relaxed now it seemed certain her assumption that earlier this morning he’d been too wrapped in the remnants of sleep to recognize her was correct. “You said you were going to Bellevere—did you mean for a short visit or…?”
    He looked up; those strange amber eyes locked on hers. “Bellevere will again be my principal residence.”
    Her newfound certainty swayed. She managed to keep her dismay from her face, from her eyes. “I see. That’s…wonderful! It’ll mean such a lot for the village.”
    He considered her for a moment, those unnerving eyes on her face, then he nodded and looked down at his plate. “I’ll be opening it up again, taking on staff—a full complement.”
    Abby’s mind whirled. He had to be thinking of marrying. Why else…? Hands clasped on the table, she asked with what she hoped was appropriate diffidence, “Do you intend spending most of your time here, or will you still be based in London?”
    “I’ve had enough of London— more than enough.” He glanced at her. “I’m home to stay.”
    She watched him clear his plate and tried to imagine it—tried to envision meeting him in the village with his wife on his arm. She wondered who the lucky lady was—wondered how she would manage to bear it and smile.
    He pushed his plate away; she looked up and found him watching her. One dark brow lifted questioningly.
    She rose. “I’ll take you to see Bolt if you like.”
    “If you would.”

    As they climbed the stairs, Abby was conscious of the sidelong glances Adrian sent her, as if she were a puzzle he was trying to solve. She gave him no help, no hint; she allowed no clue to her thoughts to show. She led him to the box room. Agnes stood as they stepped through the door.
    “Still sleeping, he is, but it’s just exhaustion now.” Agnes bobbed her head at Adrian. “He had a mite of fever early morning, but he’s past it. On the mend, is my opinion.”
    She didn’t sniff, but Adrian didn’t need that little sign to divine Agnes’s opinion of him. She was old enough to remember the youth he’d been, old enough to have heard all the stories. She couldn’t know that Abby was the one woman above all others he would never do anything to harm.
    Inclining his head, he stepped past both women and hunkered down so he could see Bolt’s face. Asleep, his old tiger looked weary, worn down. Behind him, Adrian could hear Abby and Agnes whispering. He put out one hand, wanting to ease the wrinkles from Bolt’s brow, but…he let his hand fall as he heard Abby step close.
    She reached past his shoulder and smoothed Bolt’s brow, just as he had wanted to do.
    “He’s been with you for a long time, hasn’t he?”
    She seemed to be following his train of thought. “Yes.” Adrian stood, shoving his hands into his breeches pockets. “He put me on my first pony even though Mama had all but forbidden it. I was two. He was only a junior groom then.”
    “Does he have family in the village?”

    Adrian shook his head. “His sister lives outside Ashburton.”
    Abby settled the blanket over Bolt’s shoulder, then laid her hand across his brow. “He hasn’t any fever. I