Page 103 of The Soldier
“He didn’t tell me it’s the Sabbath,” St. Just murmured, wondering if he was in need of more than a shave. “Come along, Winnie, and we’ll probably find a second breakfast, if you’re more interested in your victuals now.”
Winnie grabbed his hand. “Only a little.”
“We must encourage you to drink chocolate in the morning, I suppose.” St. Just gave up trying to match his steps to hers and swung her up to his hip. “You certainly don’t weigh very much, Bronwyn Farnum.”
“But I’m good at climbing trees,” Winnie said on a forlorn smile as they approached the back terraces.
“That you are, but I am able to divine your thoughts,” he went on as he stomped his boots at the back door. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“What am I thinking?” Winnie closed her eyes and squinched up her face.
“That we’re going inside this house, but Emmie isn’t here, and that makes you feel sad.”
Winnie nodded, and in an instant, all her courage seemed to desert her. She turned her cold face against St. Just’s neck and kept it there while he walked into the back hallway.
“What ho!” Val emerged from the kitchen. “It’s the snow monster from Rosecroft village, with two heads and bright red ears on both of them.” He stepped closer and put down his mug of tea. “What’s wrong, princess? Not feeling so cheerful?”
Winnie shook her head without looking at him, keeping her nose against St. Just’s neck.
“We’re sad,” St. Just said, “because Emmie isn’t here.”
“Ah.” Val nodded, his eyes conveying a world of understanding. “Win, you have to let Uncle Val teach you some of his sad-day songs.” He stepped closer, maybe intending to take the child from his brother’s arms, but as he reached out to encircle Winnie, his arms, whether by design or inadvertence, embraced his brother, as well.
“We’re all sad,” Val murmured, hugging them both, “but we’re happy, too.”
“Why are we happy?” Winnie was sufficiently affronted at that pronouncement that she glared at him.
“Because.” He did lift Winnie away from St. Just and maneuvered her onto his own back, “my Princess Winnie is home safe and sound and she brought my big brother home, as well, and—best of all—she brought Scout back, too. I was really worried about Scout,” Val went on as he flounced her into the kitchen, “but I knew he had you to protect him.”
“I’m smart and very strong for my size, and Scout is warm.”
“Warmth can be an endearing quality in a fellow otherwise lacking in impressive attributes,” Val allowed. He sat Winnie on the table and began to take off her outer garments.
“What are attributes?”
“Paws.”
“But he does have impressive paws,” Winnie argued, holding out a foot for Val to take off her boots.
“My brother is misleading you,” St. Just said as he ambled into the kitchen. “He does this frequently with young ladies. Attributes are qualities, Win, strong or weak points, like smelling good or being smart.”
“Scout smells good to other dogs, and he’s smart for a dog, too.”
“Brilliant,” Val agreed, removing the second boot. “Now go upstairs and get your slippers, then take yourself off to the music room. I’ve kept a fire going in there, and the piano is waiting for you to make up all the time you missed practicing yesterday.”
“I’m going.” Winnie hopped down off the table, hugged Val impulsively around the waist, and tore off.
“Thank you,” St. Just said. “From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”
“Not feeling so good, princess?” Val asked again, grinning sympathetically. He slung an arm around St. Just’s shoulders and squeezed hard. “Are you ready to swear off women? Move back to Surrey? Take holy orders?”
“Please do not mention the church,” St. Just said, sidling out of his brother’s grip. “Nor the exponents thereof.”
“So what was Winnie’s reason for running off?” Val asked, pouring a mug of tea, adding cream and sugar, and putting it in his brother’s hand.
“She wanted to make Emmie feel as scared and anxious and upset as Winnie will feel when Emmie runs off to Cumbria without her.”
Val gave a low whistle. “There’s a genius to her logic, and diabolical determination.”
