“That’s a fierce frown, Countess,” Luxborough remarked as he came to stand at her side. She had not been aware of the cool breeze until his large body blocked it. “Is the house not to your liking?” “It’s not even old,” she complained. “I never said it was.” “It should be old and crumbling and gloomy, with mad monks and bats and ghosts.” She shook her head. “Honestly, Luxborough. How do you manage to stay so grumpy when you live in such a beautiful place?” “An overabundance of natural talent, I suppose.”
