Sybill by Jo Ann Ferguson Page A

gown. Mrs. Stoddard has outdone herself.”
    Sybill could not miss the stiff tone. Her smile faded, for she knew what was bothering him. He could not miss the eager expression on Owen’s face. It frightened her. Just when things seemed to be going so perfectly, she did not want to deal with a guardian who planned to make her his wife. Although he had arranged his household so she and Trevor worked together, Sybill was sure Owen would think it disgraceful how often she sought the company of his handsome aide simply to talk. Owen considered Trevor a valuable tool. He would be shocked to learn his ward’s true feelings.
    Knowing her face would betray her disquiet, she spoke of another matter bothering her. “You don’t think it’s too early to stop wearing mourning for my father, do you, Owen? It has been only a few months. I would not want anyone to think I did not honor my father’s memory.”
    â€œNo one would think that of you, my dear.” He took her fingers and drew her closer. When he noticed the shuffling of her feet, he hid his displeasure. Sybill had changed. Her innocence was not as pure. There would be few bold enough to try to woo the lord’s ward. Her father had been indiscriminate in choosing whom he bedded. Sybill would not be the same. He knew, with a secret flush of pleasure, that she would seek a man she could love simply for love’s sake.
    Sybill stared up at the man who held her hand. A shiver raced along her spine. Owen’s smile had turned inward as if amused by his thoughts. That she could not guess what was in his mind reminded her how little she knew this man. “This has been a wondrous day,” she chattered to fill the chasm of quiet. “Did Trevor tell you what he brought to the Cloister for me?”
    Owen was shaken from his satisfied fantasies as she spoke brightly. He looked from her happy face to his estate manager. “Trevor gave you a gift?”
    â€œWait here!”
    Pleased with any excuse to avoid Owen’s too eager caresses, she opened the door. From a wooden box, she pulled the squirming, golden mass. Cooing loving words, she walked over to the two men. “See? A puppy.” She was more delighted with her pet than the fine gown, despite the fact that the cost of her dress would equal the price of a hundred puppies. “This is Goldenrod. Isn’t he wonderful?”
    As if in explanation, Trevor added, “It’s one from Mac Beckwith’s litter. Sybill saw it when we rode out that way a while back.”
    â€œSo you bought it for her?”
    Sybill looked up in astonishment at the rancor in the lord’s voice. She was soothed by Trevor’s calming reply. “Not exactly, m’lord. Mac stopped me and told me this puppy was for her. It shocked me when he refused to take a copper for the pup.”
    â€œBeckwith wanted no money?” Owen picked up his goblet and drained it as his forehead puckered in thought. “That is indeed amazing.”
    â€œAll he would repeat was that she needed this dog.”
    â€œAnd I do,” she said firmly. With a laugh, she raised the puppy so its black nose was against hers. “I love you, Goldenrod!”
    Owen smiled stiffly as he placed his wine glass on the desk. “It would seem we are to have a dog in the Cloister. Why don’t you take it outside, Sybill, and introduce it to the gardens?” With a diffident wave of his hand, he ordered, “Go along, Trevor, and help her keep track of the creature.”
    â€œYes, m’lord.” He kept his confusion hidden as he motioned for Sybill to lead the way. When she looked back, he could see the same bafflement scoring her forehead. He could not understand why Lord Foxbridge spoke moments ago of making this young woman his bride, but was sending her outside with his assistant. If he wished to court Sybill, Lord Foxbridge should be the one by her side.
    When she started to speak, he shook