Free The Wolf's Promise by CLAIRE THORNTON
Authors: CLAIRE THORNTON
Angelica alone. She looked around, her eyes drawn once more to the brilliant painting over the fireplace. She was staying for Harryâs sake, she told herself. There was a great deal about Benoît Faulkener that still needed investigation before she could finally trust her brotherâs life to him.
But was there also something here for her? She spun the globe idly, and then noticed for the first time the model of a ship standing alone on its own table. It was beautifully made, with a well-polished hull, delicate spars and intricate rigging. She went over to it, hardly daring to touch it. It was resting on a wooden plinth, but the sails billowed as if it were scudding through the waves, free and unrestrained.
For eighteen months the Earl had rarely left the familiarity of his own home. For the first time she wondered if he would be happier if they travelled; if he could feel the wind on his face even though he could no longer see it bending the trees? It had to be so.
When Harry came home they would make Lord Ellewood emerge from his self-made prison. They would take him out so that he could sense the teeming world all around him, and they would make him start living again. Because if they didnât, she could not bear to contemplate what the future would be like.
She remembered suddenly that she was supposed to be writing him a note, and hurried back to the desk, half afraid that Benoît would be back before she had finished.
Chapter Three
âW ell, my lady,â said Benoît, when a messenger had been dispatched with two letters for the Earl, âhow would you like to spend the day of repose you have won for yourself? In a comfortable chair by the fireâor perhaps youâd rather lie down for a few hours?â
âYou are very considerate, sir,â Angelica replied coolly, trying not to let him provoke her, âbut I think I could endure a little more activity than that. Perhaps you might permit me to look at some of the books in this well-stocked library.â
Benoît inclined his head politely, an ironic gleam in his eyes.
âBe my guest,â he said graciously. âAre you very fond of reading, my lady? If you tell me your taste, I may be able to select just the thing for you.â
âI have read a great deal to Papa,â said Angelica.
She wandered over to the nearest shelves, idly running her fingers along the leather spines of the books. Then shepaused, her hand resting lightly on the edge of the shelf as she looked up at the rows and rows of books.
âYou havenât read all these?â she said suspiciously.
âBy no means,â Benoît replied urbanely. âMost of them belonged to old Mr Fanshaw, the previous owner. He had very eclectic tastes, not all of which I share. But there are also my fatherâs medical books, and I have added others on subjects which interest me.â
âThe Great Discoverersâthe New World?â Angelica guessed, glancing at him for confirmation of her suggestion.
âAmong other things.â Benoît watched, smiling slightly, as Angelica looked back at the shelves.
Her dusky pink gown was more subdued than the blue she had worn the previous evening, but nothing could dim the vivid glory of her hair. Her full-breasted figure radiated energy and a barely contained zest for life. She didnât belong in front of rows of dusty books.
Then she sighed, clearly unaware that she had done so, and Benoît frowned, his eyes narrowing a trifle as he studied her.
Angelica had just realised that she was sick of books and everything they stood for. There had been too many days and nights when she had read endlessly to her father from texts that she didnât understand or that didnât interest her.
Books had become the only substitute for life the Earl was prepared to accept. He was more willing to listen to the words of long-dead philosophers than the voices of old, and once-valued, friends.
But was there also something here for her? She spun the globe idly, and then noticed for the first time the model of a ship standing alone on its own table. It was beautifully made, with a well-polished hull, delicate spars and intricate rigging. She went over to it, hardly daring to touch it. It was resting on a wooden plinth, but the sails billowed as if it were scudding through the waves, free and unrestrained.
For eighteen months the Earl had rarely left the familiarity of his own home. For the first time she wondered if he would be happier if they travelled; if he could feel the wind on his face even though he could no longer see it bending the trees? It had to be so.
When Harry came home they would make Lord Ellewood emerge from his self-made prison. They would take him out so that he could sense the teeming world all around him, and they would make him start living again. Because if they didnât, she could not bear to contemplate what the future would be like.
She remembered suddenly that she was supposed to be writing him a note, and hurried back to the desk, half afraid that Benoît would be back before she had finished.
Chapter Three
âW ell, my lady,â said Benoît, when a messenger had been dispatched with two letters for the Earl, âhow would you like to spend the day of repose you have won for yourself? In a comfortable chair by the fireâor perhaps youâd rather lie down for a few hours?â
âYou are very considerate, sir,â Angelica replied coolly, trying not to let him provoke her, âbut I think I could endure a little more activity than that. Perhaps you might permit me to look at some of the books in this well-stocked library.â
Benoît inclined his head politely, an ironic gleam in his eyes.
âBe my guest,â he said graciously. âAre you very fond of reading, my lady? If you tell me your taste, I may be able to select just the thing for you.â
âI have read a great deal to Papa,â said Angelica.
She wandered over to the nearest shelves, idly running her fingers along the leather spines of the books. Then shepaused, her hand resting lightly on the edge of the shelf as she looked up at the rows and rows of books.
âYou havenât read all these?â she said suspiciously.
âBy no means,â Benoît replied urbanely. âMost of them belonged to old Mr Fanshaw, the previous owner. He had very eclectic tastes, not all of which I share. But there are also my fatherâs medical books, and I have added others on subjects which interest me.â
âThe Great Discoverersâthe New World?â Angelica guessed, glancing at him for confirmation of her suggestion.
âAmong other things.â Benoît watched, smiling slightly, as Angelica looked back at the shelves.
Her dusky pink gown was more subdued than the blue she had worn the previous evening, but nothing could dim the vivid glory of her hair. Her full-breasted figure radiated energy and a barely contained zest for life. She didnât belong in front of rows of dusty books.
Then she sighed, clearly unaware that she had done so, and Benoît frowned, his eyes narrowing a trifle as he studied her.
Angelica had just realised that she was sick of books and everything they stood for. There had been too many days and nights when she had read endlessly to her father from texts that she didnât understand or that didnât interest her.
Books had become the only substitute for life the Earl was prepared to accept. He was more willing to listen to the words of long-dead philosophers than the voices of old, and once-valued, friends.