Free To Wed an Heiress by Rosanne E. Lortz Page A

Haro—“This is Philippe Bayeux, an architect that my father has employed more than once.”
    Haro noted that he was a handsome young man of middling height, whose nose as well as his name bespoke his French ancestry. “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Haro, politeness keeping him from inquiring what the deuce the fellow was doing at Woldwick which was a good half hour’s ride from the village.
    Arabella trained her clear brown eyes on the unexpected guest. “I have invited him here to draw up some plans for renovations to the western wing of the house.”
    Monsieur Bayeux opened his mouth to say something then shut it again as if he had thought better of it.
    “Renovations to the west wing?” asked Haro in surprise. He swallowed uncomfortably, unsure whether to address this issue with a stranger present. “You’ve mentioned nothing to me on the subject—”
    “Oh, yes,” said Arabella quickly. “I did not wish to ask your opinion until I had some concrete plans to show you. It is so hard to speak in vague generalities regarding architecture. But I do think that the west wing will need some updating in the Palladian style. It looks positively pre-Conquest as it is. Once Monsieur Bayeux has made some drawings, we can make a decision, yes?” She smiled encouragingly at Haro, and at Bayeux as well.
    Haro almost thundered out a “No!” But he remembered, before it was too late, that if it were not for the mill owner’s money, he would soon have no control over Woldwick at all. It was best to be conciliatory, and perhaps, with a little time, he could dispel this notion of remodeling that had come upon Arabella so suddenly.
    “I suppose the housekeeper can prepare a room for our guest,” said the earl in slow, measured tones.
    “And I suppose I can get to work with the drawings right away,” said the visitor just as slowly. His dark, handsome face was clouded with some emotion which Haro could not decipher, and his eyes held a disconcerting intensity.
    “Excellent,” said Arabella with a briskness that matched the outside air. “Let’s come inside then, shall we?” And leading Haro by the arm, she entered the main door of the house as if she were already mistress there.
    ***
    William Hastings, it turned out, was just as surprised to see Philippe Bayeux as the young earl had been. As he returned from his day trip to the village, it had begun to sleet, and he found the others watching the dreary day out of the windows of the great room.
    With a quick hello to Haro, Mr. Hastings stomped over to the fire in the hearth to warm himself, rubbing his hands before the lively flames. When he turned around to warm his backside, he caught sight of the new visitor on the sofa and started visibly.
    Monsieur Bayeux’s eyes dropped, and no word of greeting passed between the two men. “Arabella,” said the mill owner, clearing his throat ominously. “Come here.” Retiring into a small alcove just off of the drawing room, the father and daughter conducted a private conversation, although Mr. Hastings’ gruff whisper was loud enough to be heard by those nearest to that side of the room.
    “What is he doing here?”
    Arabella’s soft voice gave a lengthy and inaudible explanation.
    “I will not abide it!”
    Her hand plucked at his sleeve. She seemed to be entreating him not to make a scene.
    The scene had already been made, however, and it was only the good breeding of the Emison family that made them feign ignorance to it. “And where did you receive your training in the field of architecture?” asked the Countess of Anglesford, trying to divert embarrassment from her new guest. No matter how unexpected or unwelcome he might be, a true hostess must disguise those facts.
    “In France, my lady,” said Monsieur Bayeux. The hint of Gallic accent in his voice indicated that he had probably been born there as well.
    “Such a lovely country,” said Eda, more for the sake of entering the conversation than