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13
The Shelby Manor was much larger than she had remembered it to be. Then again, during the only evening that she had spent there, too much had happened to allow her to admire the decadent yet somehow modest building. Up close, from the window of the car that rolled up onto the round gravelled driveway, Ana could see the vast extension of land that he owned that ventured out from the stables.
From across the drive, a familiar figure walked with his hands in his pockets, head down and eyes shaded by his Peaky cap. Ana felt herself sigh. It seemed like everywhere she went, he happened to be there too. But he was a Peaky Blinder, she reminded herself. It was only natural.
Ana stepped out of the car, her feet crunching audibly against the pebbles of the ground, though not loud enough for him to hear. Walking forward slowly, she pulled her coat to her chest, wrapping her hands on the inside. A chill had erupted up her spine, despite the clammy palms that scratched against the fur lining, mixing sweat into the soft decoration.
"John Shelby," she shouted across the space between them, her voice sounding more croaky than she would have liked.
The man turned, his eyebrows raised and, like Ana, he seemed unsurprised when his gaze met hers, his blue eyes like lightning against a navy sky. Smiling, he waited for a moment, letting her join his side before beginning to walk toward the house once again.
"So you're following me now then?" He asked, as he turned back to cast her a single glance.
She felt herself blushing, though she had noticed herself doing it a number of times recently and brushed the red tint of her cheeks off as the different English wind. On her own face, she held a distinct smile, her teeth flashing cheekily as she answered him.
"Why wouldn't I? You're a very handsome man." Ana shrugged as she joked.
"Funny," John laughed, the sound coming out jokingly rather than bitterly as she had imagined. He teased, "I've always known you'd think I'm handsome."
"Oh, I joked about one think. Maybe I was joking about the other?" Ana suggested, her tone of voice sounding unfamiliar, even to her own ears. "Or perhaps I wasn't joking at all. You'll never know."
Ana had moved in front after catching him off guard. They moved swiftly up the steps, John now following her to the wide, oak doors, the dim hallway of the reception room clear in view through the dusty glass of it. She felt his presence drift past her as he hurried to gain a few steps, twisting so he walked backwards, his heels never missing a jump.
"What if it was you doing the following?" he said, his voice light as he glanced behind him, prying his eyes away from her gaze. "This is my brother's house."
