Portrait Of A Lover Read Online Free PDF Page A

she should even bother with such a formality. Even if this man’s intentions were honorable, her aunt would never encourage such a match. She was very ambitious. Aunt Millicent knew Annabelle would have a substantial dowry, thanks to her generous brother, Whitby, and she was searching among the aristocracy for a husband for Annabelle. Even though Annabelle was not truly one of them.
    “Where?” Mr. Edwards asked, staring intently at her. “A shop perhaps. But no, what would be the point? We’d only say hello and good-bye again.”
    Annabelle experienced a sudden flash of fear. Indeed, what would be the point in seeing him again, unless she intended to defy her family and run away with him and live the modest life of a bank clerk’s wife?
    Oh, good gracious. She was getting ahead of herself. She’d met a handsome man on a train. She’d known him only a few hours, and already she was plotting an elopement, despite the fact that she was slightly wary and had just wondered if he wanted to steal her reticule. She had best regain control of her senses.
    “Perhaps it’s not a good idea,” she said. “I couldn’t deceive my aunt that way.”
    His gaze fell upon Millicent for a long moment before he nodded, almost in defeat. He leaned back. “Of course. You’re right. I shouldn’t have suggested it.”
    She recognized the disappointment in his eyes. He was surrendering to the reality of their situation—that he was not a suitable acquaintance for her—and all Annabelle’s suspicions about his integrity fell away, because she felt positively beastly over the direction this was heading. She had enjoyed their conversation so very much. He was the kind of man she would wish to know. He was intelligent, polite and interesting, not to forget handsome and exciting—so much more so than all the young lords she’d been dancing with of late. She did not wish him to think she considered him beneath her. She did not. But her family would certainly not support any—
    Just then the steam whistle blew and Aunt Millicent sat straight up, eyes wide. Annabelle sucked in a breath, while Mr. Edwards calmly turned his head toward the window.
    “What time is it?” Millicent asked, looking around, confused.
    “It’s just past three,” Annabelle replied.
    “I think I fell asleep for a few minutes.”
    “Did you?”
    Annabelle struggled to smile casually at her aunt. She and Mr. Edwards glanced briefly at one another.
    “We should be arriving soon,” Millicent said, running a hand over her hair, patting down some untucked strands. “Thank goodness. It was a rather tedious trip, don’t you think?”
    “Yes, Auntie,” Annabelle lied.
    In a matter of minutes the train was slowing down, but Annabelle’s heart was racing faster and faster, for she was about to disembark and never see Mr. Edwards again. She had just rejected him, and surely he was under the impression that she did not wish to see him again, that she did not trust him, nor find him interesting or appealing.
    Though she did not know him well enough to trust him, she certainly did find him appealing, in every possible way.
    With the slow lumbering of the locomotive and the noisy screech of the brakes, Annabelle felt more and more as if the walls of the train were closing in on her. She was running out of time, and soon she would have to say good-bye to Mr. Edwards for good.
    If that happened, she knew she would always wonder what would have become of them if they’d had more time to get to know each other…
    Aunt Millicent leaned forward and shouted to the older lady, “We’re pulling into the station!”
    The woman jumped and awakened. “Oh, we’re here, are we? Thank you, dear.” She reached shakily for her cane.
    Annabelle was breathing hard now. This was it. They would be getting off in a few short minutes.
    She glanced across at Mr. Edwards. He returned her steady gaze.
    “Don’t forget your book,” Aunt Millicent said, picking it up off the seat and