Free To Wed an Heiress by Rosanne E. Lortz

delight, and Eda—standing on tiptoe—planted a kiss on his wrinkled old cheek. Arabella hung back a little, her posture stiff and unwelcoming. Haro had mentioned his uncle to her, and indeed, they had caught brief sight of him when first entering Woldwick’s grounds, but his odd appearance, his reputed eccentricity, and his failure to introduce himself to the Hastings upon arrival had done nothing to endear him.
    Shy as he was of strangers, Uncle Harold was still a model of politeness when they were forced upon him. “Haro, my boy,” said the old man, fixing his eye on Arabella. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to this young lady?”
    “But of course!” said Haro, taking Arabella’s hand and presenting his fiancée to the elderly gentleman.
    “Delighted to make your acquaintance,” said Uncle Harold. “You put me quite in mind of the Countess of St. Petersburg when she was young.”
    Eda and Torin both began to giggle. One of Uncle Harold’s favorite stories was how he had almost convinced the aforementioned countess to run away with him in the long ago days of youth.
    “And how do you like our winter woodlands?” asked the elderly gentleman, his skin still pink from an exhilarating walk through the landscape.
    “To be honest, I find the woods a little too close,” said Arabella. “I hope to have them cut back a few furlongs in the spring to allow more sunshine in the house and on the gardens.”
    Great-Uncle Harold stared at her as if she had just indicated a wish to chop off the Archbishop of Canterbury’s head. “Ah, I see,” he murmured after a moment. “An ambitious project, indeed, but ill-advised, most ill-advised. The trees are the soul of the place, you know, and poor old Woldwick would be quite dispirited to be shorn of her sylvan glory.”
    Arabella smiled condescendingly. “Yes, but I think the feelings of the inmates of the house are of rather more importance than the feelings of the house itself. And I find it quite dispiriting to have all the rooms so much in shadow even at high noon. It will be a vast improvement, I promise you.”
    And as the strange, old uncle continued to stare openmouthed, Arabella came closer to Haro and curled one hand possessively around his arm. Haro looked down in surprise, pleased to find her there. He was discovering how enjoyable it could be to have a handsome young woman so ready to hang upon him. He smiled at her, giving her just the assurance she needed and wanted to display to the rest.
    However aghast Uncle Harold might be at her plans for the grounds, an eccentric recluse like him could have little power to combat the wishes of the new Lady Anglesford.
    ***
    If Uncle Harold’s appearance came as a shock to Arabella, the appearance of a mysterious stranger later that afternoon proved just as disconcerting to her fiancé, the earl. The betrothed pair had just finished a chilly promenade through the gardens when an unknown rider approached on the road.
    The Emisons were expecting no guests, and so naturally, Haro squinted hard to see who the visitor could be. “That’s not a county man,” he said, judging by the great number of capes that decorated the rider’s shoulders. “Come,” he said to his fiancée. “Shall we see who it is?”
    Arabella, who had also been straining her eyes to discover the visitor’s identity, agreed—although when they came within shouting distance of the rider, she stumbled on the slick cobblestones of the driveway and almost turned to go back inside the house.
    “Miss Hastings!” said the rider, dismounting with alacrity. His face was all aglow from the brisk ride in the wintry air. “I was told that I could find you here and…that you were engaged to be married.” He cast a questioning glance at the tall, blond man beside her.
    Arabella held tightly to Haro’s arm, perhaps to forestall another fall on the frosty cobblestones. “Ah, Monsieur Bayeux,” she said formally, and then, in explanation to