Page 27

Mr. Vernon appeared from a room just off the hall. “Miss Taylor. I received your note. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

He wasn’t smiling, but Athena detected no rancor in his tone, which came as a relief.

She would have to be careful, though, to avoid the topic that had so displeased him the last time they had spoken.

“Sir, I would be grateful for a moment of your time. I have a problem at the manor house. Mrs. Lloyd insists that you’re the only one who can help me. ”

He nodded politely. “Well, then, I had best try if I can.”

The servant took Athena’s cloak, hung it on a clothes tree by the door, and vanished to the back of the house. Mr. Vernon gestured for Athena to precede him to the room he had just vacated.

Athena paused to take in the chamber. A fire blazed in the stone hearth, adding warmth and light to the cozy room, which apparently served as both the dining room and library.

Built-in bookshelves lined almost every wall and they were absolutely crammed with books, some of which looked to be two or three books deep.

Piles of books covered the end tables, and numerous boxes marked BOOKS were stacked in the corners.

“Oh!” Athena cried, delighted. “You kept them.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I presumed you’d sold all the books from the library at Thorndale Manor. But… correct me if I’m wrong… I’m guessing these are some of them?”

“Yes. The rest are in boxes in my attic.”

“It does my heart good to know that you kept them.”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t bear to part with them.”

This evidence of Mr. Vernon’s love of books raised him several more notches in Athena’s estimation. For how could you dislike a man who appreciated a good library?

The furniture in the room, in contrast to the rustic exterior of the house, was elegant and looked expensive.

Athena guessed, with a pang, that these were the few pieces Mr. Vernon had been able to keep for himself.

On a small, mahogany dining table, she noticed unrolled architectural drawings and she stopped to study them.

They included a floor plan, an elevation, and a sketch of a house and surrounding vegetation.

All were skillfully done, labeled DARKMOOR PARK DOWER HOUSE , and signed Ian Vernon .

“What beautiful work.”

“Thank you.”

“Where is the dower house at Darkmoor Park? I didn’t notice it on either of my visits.”

“It’s about a half mile from the main house. The man who built it centuries ago apparently wanted to put as much space as possible between himself and his widowed mother.”

Athena smiled. “I hope he built her a pleasant house?”

“It was fine in its day. It will be even finer, I hope, when I’m finished improving it.”

A watercolor portrait that hung above the mantel now caught Athena’s attention—and drew her like a beacon.

It was, unmistakably, Caroline Vernon, perhaps painted a year or two before the one in Mrs. Hillman’s drawing room.

In this bust view, Miss Vernon was smiling radiantly with a teasing look in her blue eyes.

To Athena’s surprise, the painting had the same signature as the architectural drawings.

“That’s your sister, isn’t it?” The question was out before Athena could stop it. Fool! Why did you mention her? Will it upset Mr. Vernon?

But he only nodded, and said, “Yes.”

“It’s lovely.” Athena was filled once more with a longing to meet the young woman in the portrait. If only that were possible. How tragic that it is not. “You’re a talented artist.”

“Thank you,” he said again. “It’s not a perfect likeness—I’m not a portraitist, and I don’t often work in oils.

But it pleased me to paint it, and it comforts me to see her there.

” He fell briefly silent, as if shaking off a memory, and then he gestured to two wingback chairs upholstered in blue satin that faced each other before the fireplace. “Please, take a seat.”

As Athena sat down in the chair across from him, Mr. Vernon leaned forward with clasped hands and went on. “Now about Thorndale Manor. What seems to be the trouble?”

Without preamble, Athena replied, “The roof is leaking.”

“Where?”

Athena described the location. “I discovered a wet patch on the floor the night before last, during that rainstorm. Water was dripping down from the ceiling.”

“I see.” His eyes narrowed. “What were you doing in the attic at night during a storm?”

Athena smiled. “Looking for my missing students. They were holding a secret meeting.”

“Were they telling ghost stories?”

“How did you guess?”

“My friends and I loved to tell ghost stories when we were at school. Our dormitory had a fantastic attic.”

“Were you never caught?”

“Of course we were. Many times.” He fixed his gaze on her and lowered his voice to a dramatic pitch. “And we were summarily punished. Bed without supper, rapped knuckles, the occasional beating with a cane.”

A shudder swept through Athena’s body. “Oh, no!”

He shrugged and gave his first hint of a smile. “We didn’t care. It was the danger of discovery that made it such a thrill and worth the risk.” He paused. “How did you punish your girls?”

“I didn’t. Unless you call asking their leader to write a novel a punishment.”

“‘Write a novel’? Some people might find that very difficult, indeed. How old is this girl?”

“Eight.”

“Eight years old!” His eyes widened and he gave a short gasp. “Do you expect her to make good on the assignment?”

“I do. She has a prodigious mind—and too much time on her hands. I promise you, something wonderful will come of this.”

“I hope you’re right.” His former reserve was gone now, replaced by a warm grin. “I think I like your teaching methods. Meanwhile, back to the matter at hand—your roof?”

“Yes. I wonder if the leak has anything to do with a branch that fell the other night, during an earlier storm?” She told him about the incident.

“It could be. You said Mrs. Lloyd recommended me? Did she try anyone else?”

“No,” Athena admitted. “I was reluctant to come. I know you’re an architect and you’re busy with a job for Mrs. Hillman, and who knows how many others. But Mrs. Lloyd said that you also do building work.”

“I do, now and then.”

“She insisted that you know the house better than anyone and that you’re the best man for this job.”

“That’s kind of her. I will always find time for Thorndale Manor.” He stood. “Would you like me to take a look at it now?”

Surprised, Athena rose from her chair. “Now would be wonderful. Thank you.”

He grabbed his overcoat, hat, and an umbrella and helped Athena into her cloak. A few minutes later, they were on the Thorndale Manor grounds and strolling back towards the house.

“I don’t trust that sky,” said he, gazing up at the grey heavens, which were again full of threatening clouds.

“It wasn’t nearly so gloomy when I set out.”

“If we’re lucky, we’ll make it back to Thorndale Manor before the rain begins.” They weren’t that lucky. Two minutes later, the skies opened up. Mr. Vernon held his big, black umbrella over them both. “Take my arm.”

Athena complied. Rain poured down as they strode across the field, through the rear gardens, and down the path through the hedgerows.

Athena couldn’t remember the last time she had been this close to a man.

The scent of the damp wool of Mr. Vernon’s coat filled her senses, punctuated by the fragrance of his cologne, which seemed to have notes of orange blossom and sage.

The feel of his body against hers made her pulse beat double time, as if in cadence with the drumbeat of the rain.

They walked arm in arm and didn’t exchange another word.

Athena told herself that it was the roar of the downpour that made it difficult to talk, but in truth, it was because her breath had caught in her throat, making speech impossible.

She heard a hitch in Mr. Vernon’s own throat and wondered if he felt the same sensations that coursed through her body.

She hadn’t bargained on this . It had been so much easier when she’d thought Mr. Vernon hated her and she had found him irritating in return.

Could it really be just over a week ago that they had exchanged a handshake and had agreed to be friends?

And now her heart was racing at his nearness and the fragrance of his cologne.

She swallowed hard and sternly willed the sensations to go away.

As they approached the rear of the house, the deluge intensified.

They began to run. By the time the pair had reached the glassed-in conservatory and hastened inside to catch their collective breath, the bottom half of Athena’s cloak was sopping wet and streaked with mud.

They hung their wet, outer garments on a coat rack.

Athena struggled to quiet the thumping of her heart and dared a glance at Mr. Vernon.

She caught him looking at her with a strange heat in his eyes.

He quickly averted his gaze and the bloom in his cheeks seemed to deepen.

Clearing his throat, Mr. Vernon closed his wet umbrella and propped it against a potted tree fern. “Nice day for a stroll,” he quipped.

She laughed, and he joined in. She felt the tension between them easing. “Forgive me for bringing you here in such dreadful weather.”

“It was my idea to come today. And what better time to investigate a roof leak?”

Athena patted her hair, glad to see that it had not escaped its pins. “Mrs. Lloyd told me that you designed and helped to build this conservatory?”

He nodded. “A youthful project. I’m fortunate that my father approved it.”

“It’s my favorite room in the house. My sister and I often come out here to read or do paperwork, and we sometimes hold drawing and sketching classes here—the light is very good.”

A relaxed smile crossed his face. “Thank you for telling me that. I’m glad the conservatory is being used and enjoyed. This was the first thing I designed that was actually built and I was proud of the way it turned out.”

“You should be,” she said.

The pleased look on his face made Athena feel all lit up inside. To her relief, her pulse had begun to resume its natural pace.

“Shall we check out that roof?” he asked.

Athena grabbed two lanterns, and they lit the candles inside.

When they reached the attic, a dim light filtered in through the small, rain-battered windows, but it did little to illuminate the space.

Mr. Vernon paused just inside the doorway and Athena nearly bumped into him.

Her heart skittered again as she ground to a halt.

His expression changed, almost as if he were reluctant to enter. “This attic is old and not particularly safe.” His voice seemed to have an odd note to it. “The floor is not sound in places.”

“I didn’t encounter any problems when I was up here,” Athena noted.

“You were fortunate. So were your pupils. I wouldn’t advise coming up here again on your own. Allow me to lead the way.”

Mr. Vernon cautiously advanced through the long, cluttered space until Athena pointed out the problem area. He spent a few minutes studying it, paying close attention to the section of sloping roof where water was intermittently seeping in.

She couldn’t decipher his mood. His former warmth and jolly attitude were gone, replaced by taut features and a distracted air.

Was he was preoccupied by the same thoughts that still resounded in her own brain—the recollection of the interval they had shared beneath the umbrella?

She hoped not. Their friendship was brand new.

She didn’t want to complicate it with anything messy and romantic that could never lead anywhere.

“Did you see water anywhere else?” Mr. Vernon asked.

Ah , Athena realized, embarrassed by her mental ramblings. He’s distracted because he’s concentrating on the problem at hand, and nothing more. “I didn’t look beyond this spot.”

“Stay where you are. I’ll check farther on.” He disappeared for a few minutes and then returned. “As far as I can see, this is the only place that’s leaking.”

“Thank goodness.”

“I think you’re right about the tree branch. This roof is made of Westmoreland green slate. I suspect that when that branch fell, it broke a slate. It could be cracked or might have even fallen off, causing water to seep in through the gap.”

“Can you fix it?”

“I can. You’re lucky that you caught this so early.

There hasn’t been a chance for wood rot to set in, so none of the timbers need to be replaced.

I’ll have to wait for a dry day to climb up on the roof and check for certain, but if I’m right, I know a merchant who has the slate we need.

I’ll find another man or two to assist with the repair.

I should be able to get to this in about a week. ”

“Thank you so much. What do you think it will cost?”

He quoted a number that sounded very modest. “That should cover the materials and any men I hire. I won’t charge for my time.”

“Oh! Sir.” She gasped and shook her head, unable to stop herself from smiling at this show of generosity. “I won’t hear of that. I must pay you for your time.”

“Miss Taylor, I am aware that you’re on a tight budget. I don’t want to add to that burden. Besides, I would prefer to do the work myself than to allow someone else to get it wrong.”

“Well.” Athena gave in with a shrug. “This is very kind of you, Mr. Vernon. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

They headed downstairs and when they reached the rear entry hall, he asked, “Do you mind if I take a look around? I haven’t been back home since… that is, back in the house since April.”

It touched her that he wanted to see the house again. It felt like a giant leap forward from his prickly position when they’d first met.

“Please, feel free, Mr. Vernon. Would you care to go on your own? Or shall I accompany you?”

“I’d be pleased to have your company.”

His smile was truly beguiling and once again, despite herself, it caused a fluttering in Athena’s stomach. No fluttering , she reminded herself.