A Dangerous Man by Janmarie Anello

by cowering in her rooms.
    She flung back her blankets, donned her wrapper, rang for
her maid. As she waited, she made a slow sweep of her rooms.
    What had seemed hideous in the firelight was even more
so with the morning sun blazing on the yellow walls. The odd
assortment of tables and chairs brought to mind a Chinese
pagoda, Turkish temple and Egyptian tomb all at the same
time.
    A young girl about the same age as Leah arrived, a bundle
of freshly ironed gowns draped over her arms. She bobbed a
curtsy. "Good morning, Your Grace. I'm Marielle. I've unpacked most of your trunks and had water brought up"
    Your Grace. Leah shivered. She would never get used to it.
"Thank you, Marielle. A bath sounds heavenly."
    She washed and dressed with excruciating care in a sprigged
muslin frock, the swirling gold woven within the fabric a perfect match to her hair. It was a foolish vanity, but she wanted
Richard to see her as an elegant lady and not the raggedly
dressed hoyden he'd seen on more than one occasion.
    Thank goodness he hadn't listened to her gibberish about
a divorce. It was an ill-conceived plan, she realized that now,
but she had been so frightened, nearly desperate, until he had
shown her without words that she belonged to him.
    A burning flush spread through her cheeks. She had to stop
thinking about him or she would never get anything done.
    She scribbled a note to her aunt, and another to Mrs. Bristoll with her new direction, then handed the missives to the
maid.
    "Marielle, please see that these are delivered."
    A quick pat of her hair, a few deep breaths to steady her
swirling stomach, then she opened the door and proceeded
down the stairs. Once she reached the bottom, she froze.

    One look around the massive hall with its gilding and
marble reminded her that she had no idea where she was or
where she was going. Richard had said he would introduce
her to the servants and give her a tour of the house when he
returned.
    Perhaps she should have remained in her rooms after all.
    Luckily, Geoffrey came down the steps behind her. He was
dressed for riding, his brown eyes gleaming at her as he
grinned. "Good morning, sister. You look confused. Could you,
perhaps, be searching for breakfast?"
    Leah laughed. "You save me again, Geoffrey. I begin to
think you my knight-errant."
    "At your service," he said with a regal bow and a flourishing sweep of his hands.
    Chatting happily about the fine day and beautiful weather,
he linked his arm through hers and led her down the corridor.
    As they strolled past the library that looked as if it housed
ten thousand books, Leah found herself gaping like a traveler
in a foreign land. Each room they passed was more elegant
and exquisitely furnished than the one before.
    Her stomach grew queasy, her hands cold. While her childhood home was lovely enough as a tribute to her father's
wealth, it could not compare with this grand palace masquerading as a house. The frightened child inside Leah wanted
to run back to her rooms and hide, but she refused to give in
to her insecurities. She was mistress of this home now.
    "And this is the dining room," he said, then turned to leave.
    "Wait! Aren't you eating?"
    "Can't. I am engaged to meet with friends, and I am late."
    Leah squeezed her hands for a moment, her fingernails
digging into her palms. She breathed slowly and deeply, then
stepped inside the room. It was empty.
    She choked back a nervous giggle.
    Good heavens, what was wrong with her? She needed to gain control over her wayward emotions before she saw Richard again.

    Leah had thought this room, at least, would be small and
cozy, but it was huge, and paneled with the richest waxed mahogany she had ever seen. Still, it was a cheery room, lit by
mullioned windows hung with gold-fringed crimson draperies.
    Drawn by the enticing scent of roasted meats, she walked
to the sideboard.
    "Good morning," Rachel said as she breezed across the
room and sat at the