The Virtuoso Read Online Free PDF Page A

Ellen kept both the hope and the dread from her voice, but just barely.
    â€œI have acquired it, and apparently just in the nick of time. Do you often have to shoo away thieves and vandals?”
    Ellen glanced at the scythe in her hand. “It’s worse in the summer. Boys wander around in packs and have not enough to keep them busy. There’s a very pleasant pond in the first meadow beyond the wood, and it draws them on hot days.”
    â€œNo doubt they are responsible for my broken windows. Perhaps they’ll be willing to help with the repairs.”
    â€œYou’re going to restore the house?” Ellen asked, though it was none of her business.
    â€œVery likely. It will take a good deal of time.”
    â€œWhere are my manners? May I offer you a pot of tea, gentlemen, or a mug of cider, perhaps?”
    â€œCider.” His just-for-you smile broadened. “An ambrosial thought.”
    â€œI take it you live near here, Mrs. FitzEngle?” Mr. Lindsey interjected as they left the carriage house.
    Ellen gestured vaguely. “Through the wood.”
    â€œWell, darkness approaches,” Mr. Windham said. “Darius, if you’ll bring the horses along down the track, I’ll escort Mrs. FitzEngle through the wood.”
    â€œThat won’t be necessary,” Ellen replied. “I know the woods blindfolded.”
    â€œYou wound me.” His smile—and worse, his green eyes—put a hint of sincerity in the words, leaving Ellen to feel a little flip of excitement in her vitals. Oh, God help her, her tame, tired memories of his single previous visit did not do him justice. Either that, or Mr. Windham had become even more intensely attractive in the year of his absence. Dark hair slightly longer than was fashionable went with those green eyes, and if anything, in the year since she’d seen him, he’d grown leaner, taller, and better looking than was decent.
    â€œDespite the fact that periodic wounding keeps him humble,” Mr. Lindsey spoke up, “I must ask you to humor my friend’s suggestion, Mrs. FitzEngle. He will only want to inspect his wood come morning, in any case, so you are the ideal guide.” He spun on his heel and strode off toward the front of the house.
    â€œYou are looking well,” Ellen said, dusting off her long unused skills with small talk.
    â€œI’m tired. Road weary, dusty, and probably scented accordingly. You, however, look to be blooming.”
    â€œYou mustn’t flatter me, Mr. Windham,” Ellen replied, not meeting his gaze. He offered his arm, as he had once long ago, and she took it gingerly. “I did steal a nap after my supper.”
    â€œDid a handsome prince come kiss you awake?” he asked, matching his steps to hers. “Darius is convinced we’ve fallen into the land of the fairy, what with the rhododendrons, the bats in the attic, and the air of neglect.”
    â€œYou’re less than three miles from that thriving enclave of modern civilization, Little Weldon. I will disabuse your friend of his wayward notions.”
    â€œOh, please don’t. He’s having great fun at my expense, and the summer is likely to try his patience if he bides with me for any length of time.”
    â€œYou can’t think to live at the manor.” Ellen frowned as she spoke. She didn’t want him so nearby, or rather, she did, and it was a stupid, foolish idea.
    â€œWe’ll put up in the carriage house. It’s clean and serviceable. There’s a small stove upstairs for tea and warmth, and the quarters are well ventilated.”
    â€œAnd the roof is still functioning,” Ellen added. They were passing through the woods on one of the more worn bridle paths. Nobody maintained the paths, but game used them, and Ellen did.
    And nasty little boys did, as well.
    She walked more quickly, all too aware that in these woods the man beside her had kissed her, only once, but