weight settled low in his gut and he pushed the unwelcome image away.
The furniture was of exquisite taste and quality, although the few pieces that dotted the room were far from new. An ornate receiving table sat in the center of the vestibule atop a round Turkish carpet. Ross could only imagine how vibrantly beautiful the colors had been before the carpet had lost its battle to the constant abuse of the sun.
He looked from one side of the room to the other. Everything shone as if routinely polished with loving care. Even the crystal chandelier hanging high from the two-story ceiling gleamed from recent attention. If he were forced to search for a word to describe the feelings he perceived standing here it would be—comfortable.
Even though he was a stranger to this house, he felt welcome here. The walls were a pale yellow that he guessed hadn’t seen a fresh coat of paint for years, but there was an inviting homey air that even the threadbare carpet leading up the curved staircase couldn’t diminish. Ross smiled. His father would have been appalled. But strangely, to Ross it didn’t seem to matter. It only made the house more inviting.
He clasped his hands behind his back and made a complete circle of his surroundings. Several doors led off the foyer, but only one stood open. Before he could amble over to see what room it might be, the butler returned.
“Lady Clythebrook will see you. If you’ll please follow me.”
Instead of showing Ross up the stairs as was customary, the butler led the way across the vestibule to the open doorway he’d noticed before.
“Lady Clythebrook will be down momentarily,” he said, stepping aside to let Ross enter.
“Thank you.”
With a slight nod, the butler backed from the room, leaving Ross alone.
This room held the same inviting warmth he’d felt upon entering the house. A huge fireplace took up most of the opposite wall, but there was no fire burning in the grate.
Two burgundy chairs with matching ottomans flanked the fireplace, while a matching settee and small table sat off to the side. An ornate writing desk sat in front of a large multi-paned window on the opposite side of the room and another cluster of chairs was positioned close to a curtained French door that led out onto a patio.
Ross stepped to the opening and noticed there was a surprisingly well-tended garden beyond the paned door. Someone had obviously taken great care to tend this one spot near the house. Lady Clythebrook, perhaps. Or even Miss Foley. He could imagine her kneeling in the soft black earth with her hands in the loose, moist soil. He shook his head, not at all comfortable with where his thoughts were leading. With a raspy clearing of his throat, he turned his attention back to his surroundings.
A large portrait of a very distinguished-looking gentleman with silver hair and eyes that shone with a sparkle of intelligence hung above the mantel on the opposite side of the room. Ross was drawn to his infectious smile and thought the man would have been someone he would have enjoyed knowing.
“That was my husband. The Earl of Clythebrook.”
Ross spun around as the Countess of Clythebrook stepped into the room. Her butler walked close to her side in case she needed assistance, but she didn’t reach out to him. She relied instead on the ivory-handled cane in her hand.
“I gathered as much,” he said, stepping forward to offer her his arm. She took it with a smile.
Her step was hesitant as she leaned with aging grace against him, and Ross noticed the butler stayed at his post until she waved him away. Then he closed the door behind him and they were left alone, staring at the portrait.
“He was a remarkable man with a good sense for business as well as a humorous outlook on life.”
The longing in her eyes when she stared at her late husband’s portrait spoke volumes. “You were very fortunate then.”
“Yes, I was. I’m reluctant to admit, however, I haven’t done nearly so well
Zara Chase
Michael Williams
C. J. Box
Betsy Ashton
Serenity Woods
S.J. Wright
Marie Harte
Paul Levine
Aven Ellis
Jean Harrod