Shades of the Past Read Online Free PDF Page B

lateness to the service?  Surely, she could answer his questions before she departed Sherringham. 
    Laying her hand atop his arm, Vanessa allowed the Viscount to escort her from the room. 
    If startled looks followed their withdrawal, she remained wholly unaware of them, for Adrian Marrable had trapped her in his midnight gaze once more, and she found she could look upon no other.
     
    As Lord Marrable conducted Vanessa through the great double doors of the banqueting hall, she pulled her gaze from his and transferred it to the immense, medieval-style chamber, wholly dissimilar to the saloon.
    The ceiling arced two stories high over a space seventy, perhaps eighty, feet in length.  Enormous triple windows filled one wall, glowing with stained glass, as did a row of smaller trefoil windows above them.  Oak paneling warmed the remaining walls while elaborate, carved woodwork crowned the doors.  Pennants, antlers, and huge bronze chandeliers further enhanced the decor, lending it a masculine air.
    As the viscount guided Vanessa left of the banqueting table, she felt a muscle tense in his arm, beneath her fingers.
    "The hall dates to Elizabeth's reign," he offered abruptly, unexpectedly, as they proceeded toward the chamber's far end.
    Warmth spread through Vanessa as she realized he'd been watching her. 
    "It served as an entrance for many years but fell into disuse over time.  My great-grandfather remodeled it, preserving many period elements while still satisfying his personal tastes.  Does it meet with your approval?"
    Surprised he would ask her opinion, Vanessa kept her gaze studiously fixed on the opposite end of the room.  There a massive crenellated chimneypiece scaled the wall.  "Very much so.  I find all at Sherringham enthralling, though I confess to know little of architectural styles." 
    She moistened her lips, pleased she'd been able to complete two coherent sentences without faltering.  Emboldened, she pressed on. 
    "In my travels with Lady Gwendolyn, I encountered nothing to compare to Royal Sherringham, though I understand some say it rivals its neighbor, Eastnor Castle."
    "And some say it surpasses it." 
    His clipped words took her aback.  Naturally, he would be proud and defensive of his own estate.  But, had he mistaken her meaning?  Or was it the reminder of his aunt's long absence that sharpened his voice?  Yet, somehow, she'd detected no censure in his tone.
    Vanessa stole a sideways glance of him, mindful of his own architectural accomplishment—the lyrical pavilion in the glade.  It struck her as incongruous that this forbidding man should create something infused with such passion, light, and grace.  And certainly with love. 
    If he'd built the Orangery for his last viscountess, as Geoffrey claimed, then surely he'd loved her to excess.  Perhaps that explained the barrier she sensed surrounded him, shielding a heart still cleaved with pain.
    "I've not had occasion to visit Eastnor and own no opinion of it," she said at last, attempting to repair any misunderstanding she'd wrought.
    As he brought her to the chair, right of his own at the table's head, she mastered her nerves enough to look directly at him and hold his gaze with her own. 
    "In truth, I cannot imagine a place lovelier than Sherringham.  I would explore every nook had I the time or opportunity.  And your permission, of course, Lord Marrable."
    As the words left her lips, a frigid draft of air swept over her.  Vanessa tried to suppress the shiver that ran through her, hoping it went unnoticed as she withdrew her hand from the viscount's arm.
    Seeing his brows deepen, she assumed her seat and gave her attention to the table, gleaming with a plentitude of silver, crystal, and china.  Along its extensive length, arrangements of white lilies, Lady Gwen's favorite, alternated with fruit laden epergnes and porcelain baskets, all beribboned with black.  Meanwhile, as etiquette decreed, Lord Marrable remained standing as