Page 4 of Legacy of Thorns
“Not dead?” Daphne asked. Lorne’s son lived in Klympton, in western Oakden, so Daphne had never met him, but he was only the age of her own parents.
The woman shook her head. “Lorne feared the worst, but Master Gordon has so far pulled through. So Lorne has sent for me to help with the nursing. And I’ve a coach to catch, so you’ll have to excuse me, miss.”
“You’re leaving, too.” It wasn’t really a question. Daphne had suspected it since first seeing the bag on the housekeeper’s arm.
“Yes, dearie, and I really must run. But I’ll tell Lorne you stopped by. Daphne, was it?” She didn’t wait for Daphne to answer before continuing. “You must visit again sometime when he’s back. He’s always happy when his godchildren visit.”
“Actually, I’m…” Daphne’s words faded to a murmur as the housekeeper bustled off down the street. “I’m supposed to be staying with him.”
Despite everything, Daphne’s mouth twitched into a smile. What ridiculous and terrible timing. The momentary amusement faded, and she considered her situation. She had barely set foot in Oakden, and already nothing was going to plan.
She had some coin with her, so she didn’t need to worry about the immediate specter of sleeping on the streets. But her funds wouldn’t be enough to secure long-term lodgings. She had always intended to find a job once she arrived, but she hadbeen relying on Lorne to not only house her in the short term but also provide a reference and some direction on securing a decent position. Now she was a stranger, alone in a town that no longer remembered her. Who would want to hire her on the spot without any credentials?
She slowly turned to look back at the house behind her. The large, empty house. What a waste that she needed somewhere to stay and it was just sitting there empty.
One side of her mouth tugged up, and she picked up her pack. She would have to break in, but if someone challenged her, she had a letter in her pack from the owner of the house claiming her as his goddaughter and saying she was welcome anytime and could stay as long as she liked. He hadn’t said a word about her only being welcome if he was there himself.
She circled the house, relieved to find the gate to the rear yard had only a simple latch. She closed it carefully behind her, preferring to avoid notice if possible. Hopefully once she was inside, she would be able to find a spare key that would enable her to make further exits and entrances through the front door.
In the meantime, she would likely have to make do with a window. Her eyes narrowed as she examined the windows she passed at the back of the house, distaste filling her at the thought of squeezing through one. Daphne always preferred to avoid excessive effort if possible.
Pausing by the back door, she shrugged and tried the handle. To her astonishment, it turned.
“Well, that was easier than I was expecting,” she muttered, wondering why she didn’t feel more pleased.
She stepped inside and put her pack down in the back hallway. She would explore the house first, and once she found a guest room, she’d come back for it. With any luck, she’d find a key along the way.
She walked down the hall, examining the rooms that lined it. Guest rooms would be upstairs, but she was on the lookout for anywhere likely to contain a spare key, and her eyes caught on a door standing half ajar, giving a glimpse of bookshelves beyond. The sight brought back the sound of a crackling fire, the smell of books, and the voices of her parents, talking and laughing with Lorne and his wife. Lorne’s study.
She quickened her pace, picturing Lorne’s large, sturdy desk. He might keep a spare key in one of the drawers.
She thrust the door the rest of the way open and stepped inside. Unlike the front door, nothing in the study had changed in the years of her absence, and a wave of nostalgia washed over her, making her falter.
Then her eyes reached Lorne’s desk, and she froze. A man was bent over one of the drawers. He had paused at her entrance, raising his head to look directly at her.
That, Daphne thought to herself,is what comes of making assumptions.
Lorne might be gone, but one of his sons remained in his house. But, no. Lorne only had one son, and he was in Mirandar recovering from some unknown illness or injury. Daphne stepped further into the room and got a better look at the man behind the desk. He was too young to be Lorne’s son anyway. He had to be a grandson—one of Lorne’s daughter’s many children. They had probably played together when they were young, although she didn’t recognize his adult face.
“My apologies,” she said with her friendliest smile. “I hope I didn’t startle you.”
The young man straightened but said nothing, continuing to stare at her. She really should have tried knocking at the front door again.
“I’m sorry to appear unannounced,” she continued with a confidence she didn’t entirely feel. “I’m one of Lorne’sgoddaughters, and he invited me to stay. But it seems I have poor timing. The housekeeper didn’t even have time to introduce me before she had to rush off.”
The man’s eyebrows shot up at her speech, but she kept her face calm and added, “I’m Daphne.”
She wracked her brain to remember the names of Lorne’s grandchildren, but the only one she could remember was Mary—the girl who had been closest to her in age.
“Your sister Mary might remember playing with me when we were children, though I haven’t been in Ethelson since I was seven.”
“Ah, Mary.” The young man finally spoke, his voice deep and smooth. He was still looking at her with bemusement, but at least he wasn’t denouncing her as an intruder.
“I realize it’s not the most convenient time for me to stay,” Daphne said with her most winning smile, “but I don’t have anywhere else in Ethelson to go. Your mother might also remember me,” she said with a flash of inspiration. “She knew my parents when we lived here.”
A flicker passed through his eyes, but it was gone before she could identify it.
“You’ve come to stay with…Grandfather?” the man asked slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly.
