Mariel Read Free Page A

illustrious reign.
    Her gown of deep green perfectly accented the decor of the room. Black lace hung from the high collar and draped across the front to hide the curves of her body. Matching lace at the cuffs accented the glistening sable of her hair, now demurely pulled back in a perfectly coiffed bun. The one thing that had not changed were her snapping eyes. They looked at him and away, obviously dismissing him as nothing more than a pest.
    â€œReverend Beckwith-Carter, please sit down,” she said with what he knew was mock warmth. “Tea should be here soon. I anticipated that you would like refreshments before your journey back to Foxbridge.”
    â€œAssuredly, my lady.” He hid his smile and his glance shifted to the other woman in the room. Her position as companion to the irascible Lady Mariel Wythe was proclaimed by her severe dress and the conservative style of her iron-gray hair.
    â€œThis is Amanda Phipps,” Mariel said offhandedly. “She wishes to join our conversation, for she has wanted to meet you.” She did not add that she had been disgruntled to have Phipps announce she was attending this meeting. Having her companion with her would mean she must watch her tongue. She did not want to distress Miss Phipps again by being impertinent to a man of the cloth.
    Ian shook the older woman’s hand gravely. “Miss Phipps.”
    â€œIt’s a pleasure to meet you, Reverend,” she said in her scratchy voice.
    â€œReverend Beckwith-Carter?” Mariel asked sharply. “I meant to ask you before. Are you related to the family at Beckwith Grange?”
    He returned his attention to Lady Mariel, and willingly. She was lovely, and he admitted to himself that he enjoyed looking at her. He was glad others had prepared him for facing this adversary.
    â€œDistantly. I do have cousins at the Carters’s home of Avelet Court to the north of Foxbridge. As they are related to your neighbors, I assume I must be as well.”
    â€œDo sit,” she repeated. When she saw he would not until the ladies did, she dropped to a settee. Her lips tightened as he sat next to her. To rise and choose another chair would be too impolite.
    Mariel shook her head absently as Phipps asked if she wanted to pour. Such rituals did not appeal to her today. All she wanted was to have this meeting over so she could escape to the privacy of her room and the pain burning as hotly as the fire which had destroyed the old Cloister. She glanced down at the dog lying by her side and wondered how people could not understand her anguish when the spaniel did so readily.
    She glanced up to see the minister watching her with an amused expression on his face. Tightly, she stated, “This is Muffin.”
    â€œMuffin?” Ian could not halt his laugh. The idea that the coldly correct Lady Mariel Wythe had given her dog such a charmingly sweet name was amusing.
    â€œIs there something wrong with that? I don’t believe it’s a curse unfit for the ears of a godly man.” A glare from Miss Phipps warned her to be silent, but Mariel felt rebellion bubbling within her. After all, she had not invited the minister to the Cloister. That she must suffer his mockery simply because he wore an ecclesiastical collar seemed the worst kind of foolishness. She refused to be intimidated by her companion. Passing a filled cup to her guest, she did not look at him. Crisply she asked, “What do you want with me, Reverend?”
    â€œLady Mariel,” he said quickly as he heard Miss Phipps’s sharp intake of breath. He saw a scowl aimed at her charge. It was evident his hostess was more bothered by his presence than he suspected. With a silent chuckle, he wondered what had been discussed upstairs. “I have come simply to make your acquaintance. I had understood you were at home on Thursdays.”
    â€œYou could have delayed a day or two.” She did not meet his eyes as she stirred her tea