Chapter 14 #2
“Yes.” Her chin came up. “Sincerely, not for show. The time with you at Mirobello was… was…”
A woman could torment a man with an uncertain silence, but Bernard waited for Sorcha to decide what Sorcha wanted to say.
“I hadn’t known, Bernard. I hadn’t known such intimacies were possible. I had hoped, and my hopes looked laughable after a week of marriage to Barclay. Now I hope again, and this disconcerts me.”
The urge to take her into his arms was nigh blinding. “I am not Lord Barclay, may he rest in whatever peace he deserves, and you are not that biddable, bewildered girl.”
Sorcha took a step closer. “You are not the unfailingly considerate, correct vicar either, are you?”
“I am not.” Heaven and Cousin Camden be thanked.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him her weight, wholly, completely. A wonderful gift of woman, warmth, and trust. Bernard held her, glad beyond telling that he was no longer that vicar and never would be again.
“We’ll attend Mrs. Culver’s card party,” Sorcha said, her cheek against Bernard’s shoulder, “and Her Grace of Moreland’s musicale. If Lord Valentine plays—and he’d hardly refuse his own mama’s request—then you will think angels ought to have keyboards rather than harps.”
Bernard held her as a thousand wishes fluttered through his mind, none of them having to do with angels. He wished that they were already married. That servants all went to bed before nightfall. That the vicar in Yorkshire had known such joy awaited him in London.
Sorcha eased away, took his hand, and led him back to the table. A soft tap at the door had her dropping his hand and admitting a footman bearing a tray.
“On the table please, O’Leary,” Sorcha said. “Don’t bother returning for the tray this evening.”
“Very good, my lady. Sir.” He bowed and decamped, cutting a fine figure in his livery.
“O’Leary was with you in the park today?” Bernard asked.
“He was. My next younger sister employs his older brother. Kevin hails from the Isle of Mull, and he wanted to see Town. He’s a hard worker, and the children adore him.
” She lifted the lid from the plate on the tray and revealed a cold collation—meat and cheese—while a basket held bread wrapped in snowy linen.
Another basket held an abundance of cinnamon biscuits.
Food. Wonderful, simple food. “Lady Barclay, I am compelled to confess the highest adoration for you and your cook.”
“You skipped supper. I prefer not to deal with peckish males. Cider or tea?”
“Cider, please. You’ll join me?”
They fell to, not much discussion needed. Pass the salt. Excellent ham. Another slice of cheddar? When Bernard’s tummy was as happy as the rest of him, he topped up their glasses of cider and used his libation to salute his hostess.
“My thanks for the feast and congratulations on hiring one of your own.”
Sorcha paused while buttering a slice of bread. “Kevin?”
“He speaks the Erse, does he not?”
“He does. It’s his native tongue, in fact.”
“And he was recommended by your sibling, and he’s connected to your greater family by his own fraternal ties. He’ll be loyal to you all the rest of his days for giving him a way to leave home—he’s a younger son, making his own way—and Gilchrist will enjoy having him about.”
“They do seem friendly. I hadn’t realized that I’m such a domestic genius. Have another cinnamon biscuit.”
Bernard had two more. They put him in mind of the duchess—delicate and rich.
That thought was uncomfortably sobering. “For the Duchess’s Day,” he said, “let us agree that one of us will keep Jordy in sight at all times. If he thinks we’re exercising extra vigilance, he might be more at ease.”
Bernard would be more at ease, for reasons that would spoil the mood entirely.
Sorcha added a slice of cheese atop her buttered bread, folded the bread in half, and took a bite.
“This brings us back to Entwhistle, whom you’d like to see replaced.”
“He is barely qualified as a tutor, though he may have plenty of scholarly inclinations. He’s somewhat beholden to Coraline and Tallister for his bread, and he does watch the goings-on in your household.”
“Jordy gets along with him.”
Not a detail. “What would you think of adding Bridget to the afternoon study sessions?”
Sorcha munched another bite. “That would appeal to Bridget. Entwhistle’s job would be easier because Bridget goads Jordy to exert himself. Jordy has a gift for languages—his Gaelic is better than Bridget’s—but Bridget can recall facts and figures like a parrot.”
Sorcha knew her children. Not something every aristocratic mother could say. Then too, Jordy had come to no harm under his mother’s roof.
“Perhaps sacking Entwhistle isn’t necessary.
Include Bridget in the tutoring sessions and suggest to Miss Gelling that she monitor Bridget’s attendance.
She will bring needed experience to the pedagogy, and Bridget will inspire Jordy to apply himself.
When summer arrives, you can give Entwhistle his conge and a glowing recommendation. ”
“I still don’t want to put him out of a job, Bernard, but we needn’t cross that bridge just yet.
For now, Bridget’s schedule changes, Miss Gelling will keep an eye on Bridget’s participation in her new lessons, and we will keep an eye on Jordy at Duchess’s Day.
My guess is he will be equal parts insulted and reassured. ”
Sorcha was making reluctant concessions. Bernard could hear the hesitance in her voice, see it in her diffident air. She put down her cheese sandwich half eaten.
“I meant what I said about my supper waltz, Bernard.”
“Good. Courting you sincerely does not mean courting you exclusively behind closed doors, my lady, as delightful as those endeavors have been.”
He would have suited deeds to words, except that the door opened the moment he finished speaking.
Entwhistle stood in the corridor, looking flummoxed.
“Beg pardon. Did not know the library was occupied. I was just going to find myself a book…” His gaze fell on the decimated tray and the half-consumed glasses of cider.
Nobody had been holding hands or standing inappropriately close to anybody else, but the impression was still one of cozy informality.
“Come back in a quarter hour,” Sorcha said.
“You can have the whole library to yourself, though you should know, Entwhistle, that I’d like to try including Bridget in your afternoon sessions with Jordy.
She’s certainly his academic equal, if not his superior.
Miss Gelling will see that she gets off on a good foot with you. ”
Bernard rose and brought the basket of cinnamon biscuits to Entwhistle. “Help yourself. Wouldn’t want them to go stale in the larder.” He smiled politely, the better to make the little sneak squirm.
Entwhistle took one sweet, then another. “Thank you, sir. Sorry to interrupt, your ladyship. I’ll look forward to including Miss Bridget in our lessons. Master Jordan will enjoy showing off his Latin to her.” He nodded awkwardly and withdrew, biscuits in hand.
When Bernard brought the biscuits back to the table, Sorcha helped herself to one as well.
“Don’t say it. He spies on me. He has an office full of books, but he could see light from the library windows before we closed the drapes and came to investigate.”
“He has been with you for months. He might well be a spy and an incompetent tutor, but we have no proof that he’s a threat.” Neither did they have exculpatory evidence.
“Give me your handkerchief.”
He passed over a clean square of plain linen.
“Of course he isn’t a threat. We are making much ado about nothing where Jordy is concerned, though now I sound appallingly like Coraline.” She wrapped three biscuits in the handkerchief. “We will have a fine time at Duchess’s Day. All will be well, and we can cease jumping at shadows.”
Better to jump at shadows than be set upon by footpads. “I hope you will allow me to partner you for a few hands at Mrs. Culver’s card party. I suppose I’d best be going, lest the corridor monitor return to chaperone us.”
He rose, stashing the sweets in his pocket and collecting his much-amended calendar. “Thank you, Sorcha. I almost look forward to offending Lady Bloomton with my regrets.”
“You will survive her censure, I assure you. Many have.” Sorcha rose and walked with him to the door. “You are not to return to the office, Bernard.”
She was giving him orders. Surely he could be encouraged by that? “I could not possibly return to the office. I have dreams I must dream, and that requires a decent helping of slumber.”
He tarried long enough to enjoy kisses only verging on torrid. Before passion relieved him of all sense, Bernard parted from his beloved.
As he trotted down the front steps and resisted the urge to blow kisses at his beloved’s front door, Bernard mentally added an item to his schedule: procure a special license from the good fellows at Doctors’ Commons.
He’d start that process in the morning, very first thing.
He and Sorcha were agreeing to disagree where the children’s mishaps were concerned, but they were disagreeing civilly. Then too, what mischief could befall small children in the midst of their own family and a horde of neighbors?
“Duchess’s Day comes around again,” Coraline said, passing the invitation over to Tallister.
They had long since established separate bedrooms, but Tally often shared breakfast with her.
Annette and Eglantine had taken to enjoying trays first thing in the day, and the younger girls had eaten an hour ago and been shepherded to the schoolroom by their governess.
This private hour with her husband had become a fixture on Coraline’s schedule and, usually, a pleasant one.
“Trooping the Dolforth colors.” Tallister glanced at the invitation and set it aside. “Weren’t you and the girls just off in the country with Sorcha and Huxley?”