Ria poured the tea in silence, unsure what to say to Luc. The small ember of hope banked within her that with his arrival had begun to flicker into life was now almost extinguished. She wasn’t at all sure why he was here, but it didn’t appear to be because he was sorry or because he loved her. So why?
Clutching a warm cup between her cold hands, she gave in and asked him a third time. “Why are you here?”
At her words, he looked up. When Ria asked him that before, he hadn’t known what to say. Because I missed you. Because I need to say I am sorry. Not knowing what to say, he had said nothing.
Knowing he had to answer sooner or later, he instead said, “I was concerned about you.”
Judging by the expression on her face, she was unimpressed with his answer. His view was borne out by her frosty response. “Well, as you can see I am fine, so you can go on your way.”
Did she really think that after traveling all this way he was just going to leave?
Looking out the window, he saw it had begun to snow heavily. Thankfully the weather, at least, was on his side. “When I passed through the village, I was warned a snowstorm was coming. It looks like they were right.”
Her tone was coolly unsympathetic as she said, “Then best you leave before it becomes too thick.”
“I think that point has already been reached.” He gestured to the window.
He watched as Ria looked out and realized there was no possibility of his leaving. She uttered an oath he hadn’t thought she even knew. Then a concerned look flitted across her face. “I hope Mary is all right.”
“She is fine. I saw your servants at the village inn. The innkeeper said a carriage wouldn’t make it to Underwood with the amount of snow coming down, so I made arrangements for them to stay there, left my carriage, and came on horseback.”
He gestured at the room. “You’ve made it very comfortable in here.”
She glanced around and then responded to his comment. “I don’t use the sitting room. The fire is kept going in here all the time, and it’s lovely and warm. Plus there’s something about this room that I like.”
She’d certainly made the room cozy. Even with the snow outside, it was warm and very quiet. The pleasant aroma of a ri
ch ragout filled the kitchen. He had watched her make the ragout, amazed at how competent she was.
He looked carefully at her. The gown she was wearing was quite old and very plain. But she still looked gorgeous. And despite the tension his presence had obviously created, she looked relaxed. More relaxed than he’d ever seen.
He hadn’t realized how difficult the past few months must have been. And he’d made it worse with his pursuit, then rejection, of her. He regretted the additional pain he must have caused.
As he thought back to the masquerade and why she had been there, he was in awe at what she had done for the people she loved. What would it feel like to have someone love you so much she would do anything for you? Had she loved him like that? Did she still? It was time to find out. “I read the papers.”
She looked at him in enquiry.
“When I picked up the ring, I read the papers you sent me.”
“Oh.”
He searched her face, not sure what her expression meant. “You were right. What you did was legally suspect, but if it was what Montague St. James wanted and intended, then the manor should remain yours.”
“Thank you.”
Frustrated with her minimal answers, he asked, “Is that all you’re going to say?”
“What else can I say? You know everything now.”
Not quite sure what to make of her words or her attitude, he decided to concentrate on something else. For the moment.
Hardly believing he was actually saying this, he asked, “Is there a ghost at St. James Manor?”
For the first time since his arrival, a small smile tilted up the corner of her lips. “You met him?”
Luc blinked. He had expected her to laugh at him, not confirm there was one. “Not exactly, but if there is one, I believe he ensured I read the papers. Who is he?”
“Monty.” At his blank look, she expanded on her answer. “Rupert Andrew Montague St. James.”