Ruth Langan - Blackthorne

“A problem?”

“She asked if she and the lad could take their meal with Master Bennett tonight.”

He shot her an incredulous look. “My brother?”

The housekeeper looked away. “I told her it was impossible. Master Bennett always takes his meals alone in his room with one of the servants to assist him. ”

“Why did she wish to eat with my brother?”

Mistress Thornton shrugged. “She seems to think that having company will ease some of the young lad’s fears.”

His scowl deepened. The housekeeper braced herself for his wrath. Instead he said through gritted teeth, “Very well. Invite Miss St. John and the lad to sup with me. And have one of the servants bring along my brother as well.”

“To dine with you?” The housekeeper was so startled she couldn’t help staring.

Instead of responding, he merely glowered at her.

“Aye, m’lord. I’ll see to it myself.” She hurried away and sent a servant to inform the new governess that she would be expected to dine with Lord Stamford and his brother.

An honor indeed, seeing as how the heir to Blackthorne had dined alone every night since his return.

Minutes later there was a knock on Liat’s door. “Miss St. John?”

Olivia looked up at the dour Edlyn. “Yes?”

“Mistress Thornton says you and the boy are to dine with Lord Quenton tonight.”

“But I had hoped to dine with his brother.”

“Master Bennett will join you.”

“Thank you.” Olivia stood and held out her hand to Liat. “Come. I’ll help you wash and get ready.”

He held back. “Must I go?”

“Don’t you want to?”

He shook his head and studied the floor.

“Why?”

“I’m afraid.”

“Of Lord Stamford?”

He nodded. In a very small voice he said, “He doesn’t ever speak to me. Or smile. He just looks at me. And his eyes aren’t happy.”

“I see.” She knelt, so that their faces were level.

“I only met Lord Stamford twice. Both times were on the night I arrived. He was a bit abrupt with me as well. So I suppose I should be as frightened of him as you are.”

“Are you?”

She nodded. There was no point in denying the truth. “I suppose we’re always afraid of what we don’t know. But I’ve heard he’s a very fine man. And very fair.” She hoped her little lie would be forgiven. In fact, she’d heard whispers from the servants that Lord Quenton Stamford spoke to them only when necessary, and that he was most often brusque and impatient.

There were rumors and mutterings about him being repeated in every room and hall of the great manor house. Talk that he had been a murdering, thieving pirate in the employ of King Charles. That he had led a life of debauchery in the port city of Jamaica. And that the lad, Liat, was just one of his many illegitimate children. Olivia was determined to turn a deaf ear to all. Her only concern was the well-being of Liat. But it was difficult to ignore the rumors.

She got to her feet. “Let’s get ready and go to dinner together, shall we?” She offered her hand again. This time Liat accepted, and followed her to the basin of water.

A short time later they made their way downstairs.

“Good evening, miss.” Pembroke stood guard in front of massive double doors. “His lordship is expecting you.”

He opened the doors, then stepped aside, allowing Olivia and Liat to precede him.

The little boy’s hand found its way into Olivia’s. And though she gave him a bright smile, her heart was thundering.

The room suited the man. It was a formal dining hall, hung with tapestries and furnished in a lavish manner. On either end of the hall was an enormous fireplace with logs ablaze. A long wooden table, capable of seating a score of people, dominated the center of the room. A dozen lavish pewter candleholders bathed the room in light.

“Lord Stamford.” Pembroke’s cultured voice broke the silence.

Quenton Stamford stood in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames. At the sound of Pembroke’s voice, he turned. The hound at his feet stood and issued a warning growl.

This time Olivia could see the man much more clearly than on her earlier meetings in a dimly lit hall. A dark angeL The thought jolted. He was very tall, with wide shoulders and narrow waist. The elegantly tailored jacket couldn’t hide the ripple of muscle along his arms and shoulders. Dark hair curled over the collar of his shirt, framing a clean-shaven face that might have been handsome had it not seemed so stern. His jaw was square, with a hint of a cleft in the chin. In his hand was a silver goblet. Both his hands and face, she noted, were bronzed by the sun. From his years aboard ship, no doubt.

As always, his eyes, so dark and piercing, held her when she would have looked away.

“Miss St. John and the lad are here.”

He swung his gaze to the older man. “Thank you, Pembroke. You may tell Mistress Thornton to hold off serving until my brother joins us.”

“Aye, my lord.” Pembroke stepped discreetly from the room and closed the doors.

“Will you have some ale, Miss St. John? Or some wine?”

“No, thank you.” She wasn’t aware that she was squeezing Liat’s hand until he glanced up at her. At once she relaxed her grip. Then, annoyed that their host hadn’t even acknowledged the child, she said boldly, “Perhaps Liat would like something.”

He arched a brow. “Would you, boy? What do you drink?”

“M-milk, sir.”

“Ah yes. Of course. I shall tell Mistress Thornton.”

The door opened and the housekeeper bustled in, looking more frazzled than usual. Her dustcap was askew, ready to plop in her eye any moment. Her stained apron hung at an awkward angle, attesting to the fact that she’d been forced to deal with more than her usual duties.

Behind her walked one of the groundsmen, a village youth with a strong back and bulging muscles. In his arms he carried the lord’s frail brother.

“Ye’ll set Master Bennett here by the fire,” the housekeeper ordered.

When that was accomplished, she began directing two serving wenches in her usual shrill manner.

“Not there, you mewing miscreant. Lord Stamford sits at this end of the table.”

Olivia winced, then glanced at her host. He showed absolutely no emotion as his housekeeper continued to browbeat the servants.

“The china here. The crystal there. Not that one. His lordship prefers ale with his meal. Give me that, you pribbling flax-wench.” She sent the two servants back to the kitchen while she finished preparing the table herself. When it was finished she was sweating profusely and dabbing at her forehead with the hem of her apron.

“Ye’ll let me know when ye wish to eat, m’lord?”

“Aye, Mistress Thornton. And would you tell Cook that the lad prefers milk?”

“Milk?” She glanced at the boy, then muttered under her breath, “The lad desires milk.” In a louder tone she called, “I’ll send a servant to the cowshed at once.”

“Thank you, Mistress Thornton.”

She bowed her way out.

With the housekeeper gone, an awkward silence settled over the room and its occupants.

“Miss St. John, Liat, I understand you have already met my brother, Bennett.”

Olivia smiled. “Yes. We had hoped to share a meal together tonight in Bennett’s room. But this is much nicer, don’t you think, Bennett?”

He stared at her in stunned surprise, as though he couldn’t quite believe that she was speaking directly to him.

“I hope we’ll be friends.” She offered her hand and he had no choice but to accept her handshake. The fingers touching hers were limp and pale and trembling.

In his innocence, Liat blurted, “Why doesn’t he answer you, ma’am?”