Liz Carlyle - [Lorimer Family & Clan Cameron 02] Read Online Free

Antoinette’s family, where he strongly suspected she would be found.
    Elliot was cold, wet, hungry, and splattered with mud. It was time, he realized with a resigned sigh, to ask for directions. But where? Should he turn back two miles to the tiny pub? Suddenly, as if conjured up by fate, a well-lit house appeared around the next bend, some fifty yards from the main road.
    Elliot stared through the mist at the tempting sight. A neatly kept drive swept up through informal gardens filled with spring flowers, then made an elegant circle in front of the wide, welcoming entrance. The house was far larger than almost any he’d seen since leaving London. But it was not grand. No, not grand. Pretty. Peaceful. Even elegant, perhaps, despite its hodgepodge exterior of sandstone and brick. The oddly pitched roof lines lay at a variety of angles, as if the original manor house had been frequently expanded down through the ages. The obviously ancient north end, primarily stone, was little more than a squat, four-story tower snaked with ivy. The main house consisted of three stories with a sweep of windows, at least six on each level. Toward the rear, Elliot could barely see a row of half-timbered cottages and a moderate carriage house. Beyond that, he saw nothing, though his sense of direction told him that he must be near the River Lea.
    The rain still drizzled, bringing with it the warning of a premature dusk. In the house before him, Elliot could see that a soft, welcoming light already shone in almost every downstairs window. The warmth tugged at him, drew him nearer, and Elliot impulsively wanted to wade through the swirling mist, peer through the windows, and see what the people inside were doing. No, no. He wanted to hurry back to Richmond, light all his windows, and rush outside to see if the effort had any warming effect on his home.
    But it would not. Elliot knew that much for certain. With a soft flick of his whip, Elliot urged the chestnut up the drive, dismounted, and bounded up the two steps to the threshold of the charming house. His fatigue lifting, Elliot no longer noticed that his boots made a moist, squishing sound when he walked, or that his coat was filthy, his gloves muddied.
    Following his brisk knock, the door swung wide open into a warm, lavishly carpeted hallway filled with good smells and cheerful sounds. No less than three arrangements of fresh flowers sat stationed about the hall. Laughter and music rang through the corridors. A house party, perhaps? Elliot turned his attention to the plump, pleasant-looking woman whose black bombazine and starched linen made plain her status as housekeeper. A shiny ring of keys hung from her waist, jingling delightfully as she stood smiling on the threshold, anxiously beckoning him inside.
    “Oh, bless me, sir! Here ye be at last, and what with Bolton already givin’ up on your ever coming!” Elliot merely stared at the cheerful woman, who immediately seized his hat and whip. “Now, give me your gloves, sir. Ah, bad luck in the mud, I see.” She dangled the thumb of his glove between two pudgy fingers. “Indeed, what a foul, foul day! I do declare, you’ve had a nasty trip up from London, have ye not? Let’s fetch you a nice dish o’ tea. Miss will insist upon it, to be sure.”
    From the far reaches of the hall, the smell of cooked apples and warm cinnamon wafted out. In the back of the house, a maid scurried across the corridor with a well-laden tray, two fat tabbies trotting expectantly behind. This house, tucked into the middle of nowhere, looked, felt, and even smelled like a home should. Someone else’s home, of course, since Elliot had never known such a place in his life. But this house was nonetheless tempting, for it seemed at once vaguely familiar and oddly foreign.
    “Coat!” demanded the plump woman with brisk cheer, and Elliot snapped to attention, looking at the housekeeper in mute amazement as he obediently handed her his greatcoat. Surely he was