When she stepped into the room, it was almost impossible to tell what she looked like. She wore spectacles, and her hair was covered with a lace cap. Her figure, of course, was hidden by a loose gown, yellow in color, that only showed she was slim. He couldn’t help but notice the generous swell of her breasts, but aside from that, the fabric flowed straight down from the bodice. Overall, her appearance was that of a woman who didn’t want to draw attention to herself.
She stepped farther into the room, her gaze averted, and waited for Markham to make the introductions. John could see she had a pale oval of a face. Not one strand of hair was visible, but from the dark sweep of her brows over the spectacles she wore, he knew her hair would be dark.
Markham smiled at the woman, genuine warmth in his expression. “Miss Weston, may I present to you the Marquess of Lowenbrock?” He turned to John. “My lord, I have the great pleasure of introducing Miss Amelia Weston.”
The woman in question still hadn’t met his gaze. John bowed his head in greeting while Amelia gave him a deep curtsy. When she straightened, her eyes finally met his, and he experienced a sharp jolt of recognition. Which left him unsettled because he couldn’t place how he knew her. He wouldn’t have run into her on the continent, not if she’d been living here and helping to run the estate. So why did he feel as though they’d met before?
“It is an unexpected pleasure to meet you, Miss Weston.”
Her smile was restrained, but still it caused a strange sense of warmth to go through him. Her glasses had slipped down her nose and their eyes met again before she glanced away and pushed them back up. But in that moment he’d seen they were the same bright blue as the barmaid he’d met several nights ago. Molly.
But this woman was nothing like the barmaid. Molly had worn a dress that had accentuated her lush curves. She’d been free in her speech and had seemed comfortable in his presence. Miss Weston, however, was modest in both dress and demeanor. And the way she held herself, every muscle almost tense aside from the nervous fiddling of her fingers, which she clasped together at her waist, told him a great deal about her feelings. She was either frightened of him or nervous about her future in this household.
Well, he wasn’t about to cast her out. That fate had befallen his own family, and his sister had found it necessary to marry a stranger to save them all. It had turned out well in the end for Louisa and Catherine, but everything in him balked at the idea of behaving in such a villainous manner.
An awkward silence had settled over the room, and John found himself wondering why Markham wasn’t trying to break it. Heaven knew the man was capable of prattling on incessantly.
A streak of gray fur caught his attention, and he watched as a slim cat approached Amelia and rubbed against her legs.
“And who is this?” he asked.
Chapter 7
She’d been in a state of anxietysince she’d spotted the new marquess. But in that moment her greatest fear was for the cat who’d streaked past her when she exited her bedroom.
Her uncle hadn’t been a fan of felines, claiming they caused his eyes to water. Sometimes when they’d been near the mousers that were kept in the stables, she’d witnessed him sneezing with an alarming amount of force. On one occasion, she’d feared he wouldn’t be able to catch his breath, so it was no wonder her uncle had denied her request to bring one of the kittens into the house.
She’d only acquired a kitten after he’d passed away. What if this man was similarly afflicted? She didn’t think she’d be able to give up Mrs. Brambles, who’d been her constant companion these past three years.
Lowenbrock tilted his head when she didn’t answer him right away. Wonderful—now he’d think her a lackwit.
She took a steadying breath. “Mrs. Brambles,” she said. But she found herself unable to leave it at that. “Please don’t make me send her to the stables. I promise to do a better job keeping her in my room. You won’t even know she’s here.”
Lowenbrock’s brows drew together and she held her breath, expecting the worst.
“I don’t have an issue with cats. She might not be too happy if I decide to get a dog or two, but of course she can stay.”
She froze in place when he crouched and held out a hand, making a soft clicking sound with his teeth.
The cat looked up at her, and Amelia felt compelled to explain the cat’s reticence. “She doesn’t go to strangers unless you bribe her with… food.”
She watched, stunned, as the cat moved from her side to examine Lowenbrock’s fist. When he opened his hand, she sniffed it to see if it contained anything edible. But then, instead of stalking off when she found it empty, she allowed him to stroke her under the chin. When Mrs. Brambles tilted her head back to signal he should continue, Amelia realized her mouth was gaping. She closed it with a snap.
“She’s never done that before. She’s usually cautious around people she doesn’t know.”
He looked up at her from his crouched position, his boyish smile telegraphing his pleasure with the recent turn of events. “I’ve been told I have a way with animals.”
And with women, no doubt, she thought.
He gave her a curious look, and for one horrible moment, she thought she’d spoken aloud. But if that was the case, he said nothing as he rose. Mrs. Brambles returned to Amelia’s side as if to tell her she hadn’t abandoned her owner. She rubbed against Amelia’s legs and then sat, her curiosity about this stranger evident in the way she kept her gaze focused on him.
“Is there a story behind her name?” Lowenbrock asked.
Amelia nodded. “She was fearless as a kitten. Unlike her littermates, who were content to remain in the stables near their mother, she liked to explore. She wandered as far as the house one day, her fur matted with tiny brambles from her travels through the gardens. When I tried to return her, the kitten followed me out of the stables again. She was old enough to be separated from her mother, and so I brought her home with me.” She reached down to give the cat an affectionate scratch beneath one ear. “She’s not to be trusted around fish.”
Lowenbrock laughed, the sound a low rumble. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Amelia looked away, uncomfortable with the weight of this man’s attention. Her gaze settled on the tea tray and refreshments.