Free Anne Barbour by Lord Glenravens Return

Glenraven had designs on Ravencroft, he would be in for the war of his life. One, moreover, he had no hope of winning. With a rustle of her skirts, which sounded in her ears like a clarion call to battle, she turned to leave the room, glancing once more at the portrait of Lord Glenraven. Smiling serenely into the cold, gray eyes, she gestured a small salute before closing the door firmly behind her.
    Descending to the lower regions of the house, she hurried first out to the stables. Jenny and her colt were still in the birthing barn, and Claudia watched mother and son in bemused delight.
    “A beautiful sight, aren’t they?” She whirled to face Jem and Jonah, just entering the building. Jem was dressed in work clothes and boots, and carried a pitchfork in his hand.
    “I didn’t think you needed a full-time butler,” said Jem in response to her lifted brows. “So I thought I’d spend the morning hours out here. If that’s all right with you, ma’am,” he added respectfully, fingers touching the brim of his shabby cap. There was no hint in his eyes of remembered intimacy.
    Claudia nodded coolly. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea. We rarely receive guests until the afternoon. Well,” she amended, “we rarely have guests at all. In fact, January”—with an effort, she forced her voice to a calm courtesy she did not feel— “I would prefer you to confine the major portion of your duties to the stables. I feel you will be of much more use here.”
    Was that a flash of disappointment she caught in his eyes?
    “Of course, ma’am. Do you still wish me to serve at dinner?”
    “Of course.” She most definitely did not, but the man had to come into the house sometime, she supposed. If nothing else, Aunt Gussie would insist on it. “And,” she continued, “when my sister and her husband arrive in a few days, we will need you in the house all the time.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” replied Jem, with a bow, he turned to the task at hand.
    Whew! he thought, exchanging a glance with Jonah. The widow was certainly coming over all lady of the manor this morning. Last night’s tentative rapport had apparently evaporated at some time during the dark reaches of the night. He sighed. Back to the stables, eh? Actually, if it weren’t for his desire to broaden his search for the “rural” book, he wouldn’t mind maintaining his status as a stable hand. He rather enjoyed the mindless but energy-consuming tasks he’d been set to as providing a sort of lull before the storm. It would be soon enough that his heart and mind would be set to an altogether different sort of task. It was fortunate, he concluded, that his quarters were in the main house. He would have to use the midnight hours to continue his search.
    He watched the widow in conversation with Jonah, struck again by the luminous beauty that clung to her like a casually worn cloak. She was a widow—had been a wife—yet, there was something rather touchingly virginal about her, as though her spirit had remained untouched by whatever carnal demands her husband had inflicted on her.
    She finished her talk with Jonah and, with a nod to each of the men, walked away toward the house. He watched the delicate sway of her hips as she moved, and his throat tightened. Well, perhaps not all that virginal.
    Back in the house, Claudia went about her duties somewhat absentmindedly. Mid-morning found her seated in the linen room with Aunt Augusta, carrying out an inventory, but such was her preoccupation that she came to herself with a start when Miss Melksham let out a small squeak.
    “One hundred and thirty-seven pillow slips? In need of repair?” asked the distracted lady?
    “What?” responded Claudia blankly. “Oh—no, that should be thirty-seven pillow slips, and six in need of repair.” Flushing, she placed the offending items in the to-be-mended pile, and plucked the list from her aunt’s nerveless ringers. “I’m sorry,” she said, hurriedly scratching in a