Page 2 of An Honorable Arrangement
She looked at him as if he'd given her a death sentence, but then she plastered a weak smile on her face. "I'll just get our outerwear, my lord."
Feeling dismissed, Monty wasn't sure how to react. He couldn't explain how this slip of a girl managed to make him feel so out of sorts. He bowed. "I shall await you ladies at the carriage."
It was almost an hour before an older gnarled man and a teenage boy from the stables loaded the trunks.
The boy pushed dirty strands from his eyes. "Sorry for the wait, sir. We had manure to dump and the like."
"How long have these ladies been here without house staff?" Monty asked.
"Been a week past since the old man let out with his household in tow. Let the rest of the servants go with letters, and me and Dirk here been promised pay from the renter if we keep the barn in order." The boy propped his hands on his slim hips and shook his head as if he'd doubted the promise would be kept.
"Is there a cook? How have they been managing?" It was incredible that anyone would leave their ward under such conditions. Anger boiled low in Monty's belly.
The boy shrugged. "Not sure, but the cook went with the family."
Before he could ask more questions, the ladies exited the house bundled in cloaks and each carrying a small satchel.
Mrs. Pratt sighed. "I'll be sorry to say goodbye to this manor. It was an unusual stay."
A scoffing sound that was none too ladylike pushed from Sarah's full lips. "That is one way of putting it."
Once they were settled in the carriage, Monty climbed in and called up to the driver. "Oxford for the night, Ian."
The ladies faced forward. Mrs. Pratt pulled a sewing ring from her bag and began jabbing a needle through the fabric while Sarah stared expressionless out the window.
They'd barely left the property when Monty could no longer stand the silence. Too many questions rolled around inside him. "I hate to be rude or pry, but how have the two of you managed without any house staff for a week?"
A high-pitched squeak sounded from Mrs. Pratt, but she didn't look up from her sewing.
Slowly, Sarah turned. "We are not helpless. There was food left in the larder, enough for ten days, should you be delayed. It was not the most sumptuous of meals from day to day, but I've had to cook for myself before, my lord."
"Sarah did a fine job feeding us. I surely would have perished if not for her skills." Another squeak completed Mrs. Pratt's declaration though she still kept her attention on her sewing.
"How were you related to the owner of Milton Manor, Miss Sommers?" The rumble of anger on her behalf grew inside Monty.
"My father's cousin Sir Henry Ashton took me in when my last caretaker died." She returned her gaze to the window.
"I see." What more could he say? He didn't know her and had no right to question her about her family and why, with so little regard, her cousin left her behind. It made little difference, as he would deliver her to Lord and Lady Stapleton and see her twice a year until his aunt found her a suitable husband. Her ladyship would have Sarah married off in one season to some sod who would keep her in riches. At least, she'd never have to don a cook's hat again.
For the following hour, no one spoke. Monty could keep his peace as well as anyone, but it was odd that the ladies didn't speak to each other.
Too soon to have reached Oxford, the carriage slowed. Monty poked his head out the window. "Ian, what's happened?"
"A cart's been turned over in the road, my lord. I'll go and help them, and we'll be moving in a few minutes." The carriage bounced slightly as Ian climbed down.
Monty opened the door. "Would you ladies care to stretch your legs? It seems we are stuck here for the time being."
Wordlessly, Sarah accepted his hand down. She'd removed her gloves, and her hands weren’t as soft as he'd expected. But the warmth of her skin struck deep inside him and filled him with a sense of dread. As soon as she was safely on the ground, he pulled his hand away.
She gaped at him. "Thank you."
Had she felt the same strange sensation?
"I shall just wait here," Mrs. Pratt said. "Sarah, here are your gloves, my dear."
Sarah snatched the kid gloves and quickly pulled them on.
A few yards ahead, Ian was helping a farmer right his cart. Hay bales had tumbled down the small hill. Monty reached inside the carriage and grasped his gloves. "If you think you will be all right here, Miss Sommers, I will go and give my assistance."
