Free Secrets of Nanreath Hall by Alix Rickloff Page A

leaned against a tree, a brace of pheasants laid at his feet, a musket in his loose-limbed slender arms.
    â€œYou heard about Villiers and Crangle, I suppose.”
    Anna stopped dead, a foot paused above the floorboard, breath clogging her throat.
    â€œI did. What the hell happened, Tony? We’ve lost close to half the lads with us at St. Barnack’s. Cambridge’s hallowed colleges must echo like tombs these days.”
    Hugh was in conversation on the far side of the room where a pair of armchairs had been pulled to a window. She must have stumbled into the family’s apartments. Should she retreat as silently as she entered? Announce her presence with a cough or a clearing of her throat?
    â€œVilliers was on the Triad that sank off the Italian coast.” A deep voice with the trace of a brogue about it. “Crangle plowed his Spitfire into a field in Sussex.”
    â€œAnd here I sit playing the doddering fool for a bunch of blasted nurses.”
    â€œDo you know how many men would kill for your blasted nurses, Melcombe?”
    â€œThey can damn well have the lot.”
    Every moment Anna delayed only worsened her position, yet she couldn’t quite bring herself to back away.
    â€œI expect your mother is glad to have you safe at home.”
    Hugh stretched as he relaxed, his trouser leg riding up to reveal the unnatural shade of a wooden prosthesis. “Of course she is. She can wrap me back up in packing wool to be trotted out at dinner parties and village fetes for the neighbors to hail as the conquering war hero.”
    â€œRumor has it you’re doing your best to dispel them of that notion.”
    The laugh that followed was harsh and bitter, full of regret.Nothing like last night’s boyish amusement. “First you ask about my mother. Now you’re starting to sound like her.”
    Anna decided retreat was her best option. One step. Two steps. Slowly. Carefully. Gauging each footfall to avoid the squeaky spots.
    â€œDon’t let her hear you say that. She’d never stand to be compared to a miner’s grandson from Glasgow.”
    Anna never noticed the table until she banged into it, setting a lamp wobbling.
    Hugh sat up, his leg disappearing from view. “I hope whoever you are, you’re enjoying the conversation,” he called out.
    Conscious of the heat flooding her cheeks and the tremble in her fingers gripping the folders, Anna swallowed her panic and stepped forward boldly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was looking for Captain Matthews’s office.”
    Hugh levered himself awkwardly to his feet, a hand resting lightly upon the chair back. “Tony, this is one of those nurses you were envying me.”
    His companion turned out to be an RAF flight lieutenant whose square-jawed, broad-shouldered vitality only accentuated Hugh’s pallid lanky air of dissipation. He smiled, his dark eyes sparkling with laughter as he shook her hand. “Hello there. Tony Lambert. I’m a neighbor of yours over at St. Eval airfield. It’s very nice to meet you, Miss—”
    â€œTrenowyth,” she answered, her chin lifting in unconscious defiance. “Anna Trenowyth.” She couldn’t help the quick slide of her eyes toward Hugh, who stiffened, his face wiped clean of every emotion but astonishment. So much for lying low and easing her way through without a ruckus.
    â€œIs this a joke?” Hugh demanded.
    Lambert’s surprise had been fleeting. Now he eyed the situation with smug amusement. A reaction that was oddly reassuring. “I didn’t know you had any family living, Melcombe . . . well, except that crazy aunt of yours and her Yank daughter.”
    â€œThis is not Lucy,” Hugh argued, adding under his breath, “thank God for small favors. Who are you really, Miss whoever you are?”
    â€œI can show you my identity papers if you’d like.”
    â€œYou told me your