Chapter 1
Annalise Davenport had on her birth been born during a storm and thus began her hatred for the wretched grey clouds and the ease it could take things from her. ‘I suffer each time one gathers in the horizon’ she once said at the tender age of six. Now, at twenty years old a different sense of darkness was growing. And it was heraldedby a carriage fast approaching the Davenport estate. Anna as her sisters affectionately called her, had no sooner slid the glove onto one hand, the blue satin hiding the scar mottling her skin then she spotted the dark shape barrelling toward the main house.
None of her sisters were in residence; Virginia was in the city coquettishly eating cakes whilst whispering of a different kind of bun to her betrothed whose stoic expression was breaking while Mirren was at finishing school learning how to brandish a needle as easily as she did a sword. Poppy, the sweet cherub of mere eight years old was with her father and had once again stolen her best slippers. Poppy’s father was not Anna nor the older girls’ though she wished it was true. However it was a thought Anna was quick to quell for her own sire she feared could read minds. Whenever he did appear as if summoned by her brain it invoked the hot sparks of anger within her belly which these days she tried to soothe- hand pressing to her stomach.
The beast may lay still but her top lip curled back as she glanced towards the window- it overlooked the main grounds. A carriage sleek and black in wood drew close to the doors, her hands fisting her skirts. Her skin already pale in nature saw the scar on her throat become stark white, the second tucked into her armpit from the shoulder buzzed an angry red. If it was one of Father’s friends, he could entertain them alone or with the branches of the Davenport tree she’d rather cut down.
Anna looked away from the window and in that moment, froze. A horrible thought filling her mind. No, he would not think to start up his machinations again with her. Could he? She had thought he forgotten with the betrothal of Virginia. Then again Lord Davenport did not stop until he got what he wanted. With such machinations in play again and with the gravel crunching beneath slowing wheels, compelled Anna to race downstairs. Perhaps if she caught him before Lord Davenport, she could dissuade him, it would be easy and she could do it. Prickly mare, a lord called her at the debut and she’d happily kick this lord as she did he. The door opening and boots thudding on the tiles made Annalise move faster, nearly spilling open a drawer and splitting her own hip on its edge.
She galloped down the stairs, empty until they were not. At the bottom step was the plump and weathered figure of Linnie. In her hands was a tray of silverware- the remains of Lord Davenport’s breakfast. Always served on a silver tray whilst his daughter scraped eggs from worn skillets and said nothing of the staff’s affairs. Nearing the tray, Anna felt a familiar stinging pain prick her fingertips and she pulled back. Outwardly it appeared as if she just flinched, but inside her body was screaming. It was not always like this and yet this was Anna’s new reality.
The maid’s gaze flickered from top to Anna’s toes, a brow arched. The young woman before her rocked back as if hanging onto her words fiercely. Then it burst forth for the lady did have bundles of curiosity.
“Who is the visitor, Linnie? Oh please.”
Linnie shifted her tray, hiding her smile.
“A lady should not seek excitement but rather wait for it to find her.”
“Virginia did not teach me the lesson,” Anna mumbled.
Another maid passing by, paused at Anna’s words and burst out laughing. She nudged her fellow maid, getting the tray and the older maid’s scowl thrust upon her.
“Go on, Linnie.”
“Alright then. Your father has a gentleman caller. Not that kind, you sap,” Linnie snapped when her fellow maid wiggled her brows at Anna.
“I did not get his name but he is a lord of sorts. All the way from Ireland your father is proclaiming, imagine that.”
“He must have ruffled Lord Davenport’s hair to get such a lustrous invitation,” the other maid said, lowering her voice.
Anna’s curiosity deflated at their words. If he had gotten on Lord Davenport’s bad side as some lords were to do, then he was probably here for a trouncing not done in company.
“Linnie, how old would you say?”
The two women looked at each other and then to Anna.
“If I was a few years younger, he would not be leaving this house without a spoonful of cream.”
Damn it, he was marrying her off but this lord, further fiancé or not was going to have a fight on his hands. Waiting until the maids disappeared, Anna kicked off her slippers not wanting to announce her arrival nor his impending departure. Lord Davenport’s study was near the main hall, so Anna did not have to go far to hear the shuffling of chairs. The few times she had been in his study mostly to be chastised, her father sat by the window. It should be the same today as she pressed a hand to the wooden frame, fingers slotting into the grooves and looked in.
Things as it turned out were not in her favour. Lord Davenport sat closest to the door and not the visitor meaning unless Anna stuck her entire self in announcing she was spying, she could not see the lord. Well, his face for that matter because a part of him could be seen. Black boots hugged long legs sheathed in slate grey fabric. The arches they decorated widened at the knee and expanded even more so at his thighs. It was not the chair cradling him but this lord was hugging the chair. He could be a hideous fellow but at least my gaze can drop to his legs, Anna pondered with a tilt of her head.
