Forever Waiting by DeVa Gantt Read Free Book Online Page B

portico, and two women were on the lawn, one of them conversing with Paul and Stephen Westphal. She was elegantly garbed in a pale yellow dress, cut low to reveal the swell of her ample bosom. A wide-brimmed hat was cocked to the side of her head, and she held a parasol. She had strawberry-blond hair that was swept up and pinned neatly under her hat. Her face was heart-shaped, with expressive brown eyes and a finely arched brow. Her cheeks were rosy, and she had a curvaceous body. She was quite attractive, though she did not come close to the delicate, graceful beauty of Colette Duvoisin. Anne London, Charmaine surmised. The woman’s eyes were locked on Paul, her head tilted back and a smile tugging at her lips.
    Her companion was younger, perhaps Charmaine’s age, and dressed in plain clothes. She was tall and slender, her long hair tied back with a ribbon and falling to her hips. She was busy unloading hatboxes from the second carriage, which was piled high with luggage. The top box wobbled, then fell altogether, spilling a frilled bonnet onto the lawn.
    “Really, Mercedes,” Anne London exclaimed with a click of the tongue, “do be more careful! I haven’t even worn that hat yet, and already you’ve managed to soil it!” Mercedes scrambled to pick up the expensive item, blushing in embarrassment as both Stephen and Paul turned to see. “Why don’t you follow the butler and bring the boxes up to my room?”
    “Who is it, Mademoiselle?”
    “Mrs. London,” Charmaine replied, gaining Yvette’s grimace.
    “Good thing Johnny isn’t here!”
    Charmaine chuckled.
    Again, they heard the commotion in the hallway. Travis had opened John’s dressing room door and was carrying two trunks into the chamber. Charmaine was instantly annoyed. “Mr. Thornfield,” she called when he reappeared empty-handed, “what are you doing?”
    “Delivering Mrs. London’s things to her room, Miss. Why do you ask?”
    “You have the wrong room,” she replied.
    “Master Paul told me to bring them here, Miss Ryan.”
    “Take them to another room,” she insisted. “Two doors down will be fine.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    Paul and Anne arrived. “Is something the matter?” Paul interrupted.
    “Miss Ryan seems to think I’m placing the baggage in the wrong room.”
    Paul turned quizzical eyes on Charmaine, and Anne’s gaze followed.
    Charmaine watched her nose wrinkle disdainfully and knew what she was thinking: So this is the governess, Miss Ryan, the daughter of a murderer—worse than common . Charmaine tore her eyes away and looked pointedly at Paul.
    “May I speak with you privately, Paul?” she pressed, pleased when Anne appeared aghast at hearing her use his given name. “It will only take a moment.”
    Paul seemed oblivious to the silent exchange. With a courteous smile, he excused himself and followed Charmaine into the nursery.
    “Those are John’s quarters,” she said when he had closed the door behind him. “Mrs. London can stay in another room.”
    “What difference does it make?” Paul asked, entirely befuddled.
    “Those chambers belong to John and shouldn’t be disturbed. He was pushed out when I took his room. Now it’s happening again. It’s not right.”
    “But he’s not here, Charmaine. I don’t think he would care—”
    “I care,” she replied, unmindful of his annoyance. “And what if he should come home for your celebration?”
    “That is unlikely,” Paul replied, taken aback by her disappointed expression. “Very well,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.
    He returned to Anne and directed Travis to move her bags to the next suite. “The children are early risers, Anne,” he explained urbanely. “You’ll have peace and quiet if we place a little distance between your quarters and theirs.”
    “How kind of you,” she smiled artificially, glancing Charmaine’s way.
    “Would you like to join us for lunch?” Charmaine asked from the door.
    The young woman turned from