It followed.
“Fine,” she grumbled. “Follow me if you must. I suppose you’ll soon bore of me and turn to other curiosities. Mice and such.” If Jackson had meant the cat for her, what in Jove’s name were his intentions? Was it a diabolical plot for revenge?
At least the cat distracted from the disaster of her relationship with Jackson. They were like a shipwreck, a once magnificent vessel smashed to sharp bits and useless pieces. The promise of everything they could have been—entirely gone, washed away in a merciless tide of her own stubborn fears.
No one to blame but herself this time.
“For the best,” she reminded herself.
“Mew,” said the cat in an oddly skeptical tone.
She wandered in the opposite direction of Jackson Cavendish, and the cat, swallowing a sigh. “Oop!” Her feet brought her right up to a pair of double doors at the end of the hallway. From somewhere nearby, the happy cries of children echoed to her. She smiled but felt no joy. She would miss their laughter when she left. She pushed the doors open and froze when her ankles brushed up against a warm body. She looked down.
The gray cat looked up.
“You again? You should seek out other companions. You will not like me. I am not good company.” She stepped around it and through the double doors. “Oh!” A music room complete with pianoforte. She could barely play a note, but Jackson… His fingers flew with feeling across any instrument he encountered. What would a younger Jackson have looked like seated on that bench, playing a private concert for his family?
Like perfection. Of that she had no doubt.
She sat down at the pianoforte bench, a little left of its center and closed her eyes. What if he sat next to her? Teaching her. The corners of her lips turned up in a smile once more, this one stretched with less sorrow. She plonked out a note then another and another, chuckling at the tuneless melody.
“Miss Smith.”
Gwendolyn whipped open her eyes and stood, almost toppling the bench in her haste. “Lord Eaden. I apologize for disturbing you.”
“Bah. Not at all. I was playing hide-and-seek with the children and heard your playing. Thought to investigate.”
Gwendolyn folded her hands primly in her lap. “And toss the tuneless fiend out on her ear?”
Lord Eaden laughed. “You have other talents. You breathe life into your sketches. And you have a friend.”
Gwendolyn frowned, tilted her head.
Lord Eaden nodded at the floor before the pianoforte, and Gwendolyn stood slowly, peered over its top.
She gasped. “Oh! That. Cat. He won’t leave me alone.”
“He likes you.”
“I am not the type of person to take up with animals.” She sat back down slowly, eyeing the cat until she could no longer see it.
“Hm. Too restless. Yes.”
“I am restless to begin work, to find the manuscript. When shall we commence?”
“Tomorrow. Not too early, though. No reason not to think of this as a holiday. Sleep late. Play a bit. Enjoy yourself.”
Not likely to happen. She traced her finger down the length of the pianoforte and back.
“That’s what Sarah and I plan to do,” Lord Eaden said. “The children wish to explore the grounds. And the castle. We’ve promised to take them tomorrow.” He scratched his chin. “But I see you will not seek out such diversions.”
She managed a smile and shook her head. “Though you must do as you please, Lord Eaden. Jackson and I are used to doing all the work.”
Lord Eaden chuckled. “Are you saying I’ll be in the way? Are you implying I work you two to the bone?”
“Not at all.” She bolted upright, almost spilling off the bench. “It is merely that we have developed a system in the last few years as we’ve worked without you. We’ve learned to cope without your excellent guidance.”
“Humph.” Lord Eaden leaned against the doorframe.
