Page 39 of The Ones Left Behind
“Enough for now. I still cannot manage the stairs,” he said with a sheepish grin which made her heart melt. She had not seen that grin for five years. She caught herself staring at his lean, handsome face and looked away.
Hayes brought in the coffee and a tea tray and Kitty immediately served Matthias. She did not take one for herself.
“You love tea. Why do you not have some?” he asked.
She sighed. He was going to make this impossible. “Have you ever had tea with your housekeeper before?”
“I cannot recall,” he said playfully, “but I have taken tea with you before.”
She shook her head. “Do be serious. We must do something about this situation.”
“I was most deliberately trying not to be serious. I was trying a new approach to my recovery.”
“A good attitude is definitely beneficial,” Kitty agreed, “but this cannot fadge if you will not accept me as your servant.”
“I am trying to, Kitty, but it goes against every part of my being. I do not want you to be my servant, but neither do I want you to leave.”
The words warmed Kitty’s heart more than they ought. She quickly brought him back to the matter in hand. “It was very wrong of Sir Nigel to say those things.”
“He is responsible for the rumours in the village?” Matthias asked with a haughty elevation of one eyebrow.
“Yes. It seems he was telling everyone at church. I found out from Mrs. Henderson when I was in the village last week.”
Matthias leaned forward and picked up the pot of tea and poured Kitty a cup. He poured in milk but no sugar. He remembered. A tiny thrill made her breath catch. As he handed it to her, his expression said, ‘Don’t you dare refuse.’
Giving him a look of exasperation in return, she accepted it but almost dropped the cup when their hands touched. She met his gaze, which was watching her intently. He had felt it too... but what did it mean?
Feelings assailed her like the ones she’d had that summer when she had felt young and invincible; feelings which were not real and could only lead to heartache. She drew back and sat rigidly in the chair.
“Kitty…”
“I beg your pardon, my lord, I almost forgot. There is a messenger here, come urgently to see you. He says he has come from Oxford.”
“Henry,” Matthias groaned. “What has he done now?”
“Now? Has Henry been in trouble? I know he was full of mischief when he was younger, but surely he has grown out of that?” Kitty asked.
“Hardly. If only Father had not indulged him so much. The boy has not an ounce of conscience for aught unless it is for his own pleasure.”
Kitty frowned. She had spent quite a lot of time with Henry when he was small, after Peter and Matthias had gone off to school. “Hopefully it is only a silly prank such as young men are wont to indulge in,” she suggested reasonably.
“I never did,” he retorted.
“No, but you were brought up to know your duty and what you would inherit, unlike a second son, whose main purpose is to be available. It does not excuse poor behaviour, of course, but perhaps explains why he has been prone to getting into scrapes.”
Matthias shook his head, as though it explained nothing. She was sure it must be difficult to comprehend for someone who had always had their future set out for them.
Hayes showed the messenger into the room. He was dressed in buckskin breeches and top-boots, which were liberally covered in dust.
“My lord, my lady.” The man bowed deeply.
Kitty realized the man had mistaken her for the countess since she was taking tea with the Earl. Heat flooded her cheeks and she looked at her lap, willing it to fade.
“What has my brother done now?” Matthias did not hide the exasperation from his tone.
The man moved forward and handed him a letter. Matthias read silently before looking up to explain.
“He fought a duel and has fled to the Continent!”
