Sea Wraith by Jocelyn Kelley

Author:Jocelyn Kelley
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781610260060
Publisher: ImaJinn Books, Inc
Published: 2009-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Sian was almost grateful for her twisted ankle. Not only did it give countenance to her half-true story when she apologized to Mrs. Jenkin for upsetting the household, her aching leg meant she had an excuse to remain inside Bannatyne Hall and paint.

Her work on the mural was limited to the distance she could reach with her paintbrush while seated with her foot propped to one side. Tibbet or another footman waited nearby as she worked, ready to help shift her and her chair when she completed one section. It was frustrating, but not as much as being cut off from the rest of the world.

For the first fortnight, her only contact beyond Bannatyne Hall was a letter from her sister Jade. They were delayed leaving London because their older sister China and her husband had not yet arrived back from the Continent. As soon as possible, they would travel together to Cornwall. As Sian folded the letter closed, she wondered how much longer it would be safe for Jade to travel. The baby’s arrival was only a few months away, and Sian hoped that she was not alone at Bannatyne Hall while the baby was born in Town. She missed her sisters as well as their husbands, and she wanted to cuddle that new baby.

For two weeks, and then another, Sian sat by her window at night and watched the moon grow round and then wax again. The weather had become tranquil in the wake of the thunderstorm that had sent her scurrying for shelter at the brothel. Every night she looked for activity along the shore, but saw none. Occasionally she saw a ship’s lights, always far from the dangerous rocks in the bay.

And every night, she looked forward to sunset and the chance to see Wraith striding through the twilight in the gardens. She had thought he would return to make sure she was all right, but there had been no sign of him, just as there had been no callers from the village. Other than a short note from Lord Pitchford expressing his and Constantine’s dismay at news of her injury, she had heard and spoken with nobody but the household.

As she sat alone day after day while she dabbed at the wall, not feeling inspired, she wondered if she had been forgotten by everyone beyond Bannatyne Hall. Out of sight meant out of mind.

She should be accustomed to that with Constantine. He had pushed her out of his mind after their brief encounters in London. His explanation of why he never wrote had been plausible, but that did nothing to ease her bruised pride at being so easily forgotten.

Mr. Trembeth had promised to call so he could explore Gideon’s library, but he had not. She could not be distressed with him, because Mrs. Jenkin spoke of measles spreading through the village. Comforting his parishioners would keep the curate too busy to think of anything but their welfare. Yet she missed his conversation and the aura of mystery he projected, even as he tried to act as a curate should.

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