He slowed. “I’m in the process of renovating that area, but I’m a bit short of funds right now.”
Fantastic. Insult the host. Her past few months dressed as a kid with an attitude must have ingrained itself into her personality more than she would have liked.
“I didn’t mean…”
“It’s fine. I should have given you one of the Edwardian bedrooms next to me, but I figured you’d prefer having some space between us.”
“I appreciate it. Everything, actually.”
He continued down the hall a few steps ahead of her and then descended a secondary staircase toward the back of the house. At the bottom, they arrived in a large modern kitchen graced with a huge stone fireplace and plaster walls. An attractive, middle-aged woman in a navy skirt and a yellow knit sweater was at the stove cooking. She wore her long auburn hair in a loose bun. Several strands had fallen out around her face, and no wedding ring graced her finger.
“Morning, sir. How was your drive?” Her smile revealed a warm affection for Henry.
“Uneventful.” He strolled through the kitchen with his hands behind his back, stopping to sniff the morning meal. “Smells wonderful.”
Alex inhaled the delectable aromas. Her stomach grumbled in response.
“Martha, I’d like to introduce my colleague, Ms. Gabrielle West.”
“Nice to meet you.” She nodded toward Alex and then continued with the meal preparation.
Henry led Alex into a dining room with large oak beams in the ceiling and an medieval iron chandelier created around the year 1300 and retrofitted with electric light fixtures. Several framed landscapes by John Robert Cozens decorated the dark wood paneling. In the center of the room, someone, probably Martha, had set a beautifully preserved William IV rosewood table for two. Alex examined the four rosewood side chairs with red silk cushions. Exquisite detailing.
“Please have a seat.” He pulled out her chair, and then sat next to her.
“Thanks.” Alex glanced at the Wedgwood china. Not too rare a pattern, but rare enough to impress. The familiarity of the fine china brought her back to her life before Luc. A life working with beautiful things. She took a deep breath and enjoyed the atmosphere.
Martha followed them into the room with a coffeepot and cream. When she left, Alex filled a teacup to the rim with coffee.
“Would you like some, sir?” She lifted the pot toward him.
“Yes, please.” He leaned back in his seat, as though someone had always taken care of him. And called him sir.
The cook returned a few minutes later with their eggs and toast, then departed again.
“Is Martha a servant like Simon, a prisoner like me, or something more intimate?” The final thought depressed her for some reason.
“She helps run the house with her partner, Frank, and their two children, Irene and Penelope.”
“Oh.”
“And you’re not a prisoner, Gabe.” He paused. His eyes drifted over her now-black hair and grubby clothes. “You’re a guest.”
He added cream and some sugar to his coffee, and then stirred it several times. How could such a simple act as clinking the spoon against a cup send her straight back to the breakfast room in her parents’ house? She blinked back the tears threatening to spill. The irritating sound reminded her of her mother’s inability to stir her tea once and be done with it. She missed her.
She took a sip of her own coffee and tried to shift her focus from the past to the immediate future and her need to leave. She had her things. All she needed to do was slip out the door that night.
After a few sips, never a gulp, Henry focused his attention on her. “As much as I enjoy calling you Sunshine, Sunshine. It may be less awkward if you provided me with your real name.”
“We’ve done this before. Gabe West. Gabrielle to my mother.”
“Why don’t I believe that Gabe is your God-given name?”
“Your inability to trust is a mystery, which might be the reason you forced me into your car.”
“You came willingly and happily. In fact, I think you like me more than you care to admit.”
She did, but he was right, she wouldn’t admit it. Instead, she changed the subject away from her name and her feelings. “This place suits you. Master of the manor. You even have a moat to keep the barbarians from attacking and stealing the Wedgwood. Very practical.”
“I like it.” His eyes circled the room in satisfaction. His pride in the house showed through his mannerisms, from how he treated the staff to his careful gaze at the drawings on the walls.
“Have you owned this castle long?”
He nodded. “It’s been in my family for four generations.”
“Only four?” The family might not have been to the manor born. “Did you snatch it up from the king after he kicked out the previous owners? They must have been traitors to the Crown.”
Henry laughed. “No. My ancestors purchased it from the prior owners in what was considered a fair deal at the time.”
“Impressive. Any titles come with the property?”
“No, but my great-grandfather’s service to the king earned him a title.” Henry grinned and took a sip of coffee.
“Shut up. You’re royalty? A duke. Say you’re a duke. My mother would be tickled if she learned I hung out with a duke. Kidnapped by one even. Oh, the stories she could tell her grandchildren.”