Page 17 of Three Weeks with a Princess
A footfall on the gravel had them turning to see old Merton coming along the path, trundling a wheelbarrow full of gardening tools.
“We are not discussing this for any Tom, Dick, or Harry to overhear.” Jack took her by the elbow and started to propel her toward the terrace.
“Stop making such a fuss.” She resisted his efforts to get her moving. “Merton, you should check the rosebushes by the arbor. They’re showing signs of blight.”
The old man gave her a fond smile. “I’ll do that, miss, ye can be sure.”
“Thank you. I’ll come see you once I’m finished with Lord Lendale. I’d like to talk to you about some ideas I have for the kitchen garden, too.”
“Aye, Miss Lia, I’ll wait for ye.”
Jack cursed under his breath as she finally let him march her up onto the stone terrace.
“And now what have I done to annoy his lordship?” she asked.
“It seems to have escaped your notice that you don’t actually work here at Stonefell. There’s no need for you to be running about instructing the staff. They’re quite capable of doing their jobs without direction from you.”
She yanked her arm away, coming to a halt in the middle of the terrace. “Yes, they are. But, again, in caseyou’vefailed to notice, Stonefell is severely understaffed and the servants are quite overworked.” She glanced away and blinked several times, as if she’d gotten a speck in her eye.
“I’m only trying to help,” she added in a tight voice.
Jack breathed out an irritated sigh. He had no damn business taking his frustrations out on her, especially when she did everything she could to make his life easier. “I don’t seem to be able to keep my blasted foot out of my mouth this morning, do I? You might as well give me a kick in the backside and get it over with. I certainly deserve it.”
Her startled gaze flew back to him.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. “I didn’t mean to insult you. But you’re not a servant here at Stonefell. I don’t ever want you to feel you have to earn your keep.”
She gave him a quizzical smile. “Stonefell is my home, and your people are the closest thing Granny and I have to family. If I can help them, I’m happy to do so.” Her shoulders lifted in a practical little shrug. “And although I wouldn’t quite phrase it asearning my keep, we do owe the Lendales a great deal. Your uncle supported us for almost twenty years, and now you’ve pledged to do the same. And you, I might add, get nothing out of the deal, unlike the previous lord.”
He found her cynical assessment unnerving. “That’s a rather hard-hearted way to look at it.”
“But it’s the truth, isn’t it?”
He shoved a hand through his hair, hating the discussion. He’d always done his best to shelter Lia from the more unpleasant facts of life, but she’d grown into a woman who had a decidedly unvarnished view of the world. He realized now that he’d been a fool to think he could protect her from the realities of immutable circumstance.
When she was a little girl, they’d all pretended there was nothing out of the ordinary in her upbringing, or in his uncle’s relationship with Rebecca. Selfish and stupid was what they’d all been, and poor Lia would pay the price.
She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Jack, we can’t go on pretending nothing’s changed, or that nothing’s going to change. That’s why I came up to the house so early. I need to talk to you before Granny does.”
“What does Rebecca want?”
She nudged him toward the open French doors of his library. “Trust me, you donotwant to have this particular conversation with her.”
The morning sun cast bands of light across the library carpet and gently highlighted the faded shades of blue, cream, and rose. Lia wound her way between the scattered chairs and low tables of the comfortable room, then flopped into one of the creaky leather club chairs in front of his desk. Even when she flopped she managed to look graceful, although Rebecca would surely read her a lecture for reclining so casually, with her booted feet propped up against one of the desk legs.
Those boots looked familiar.
“Lia, are those the boots I bought for you when you were sixteen?”
She gave him a sheepish smile. “I suppose they are.”
“They’re practically falling off your feet. When was the last time you got a new pair?”
She glanced down negligently. “I just wear these when I work in the garden. Now, would you please stop worrying about such silly things and sit down? You can be such an old biddy sometimes.”
He snorted. “Well, that’s a first. Nobody’s ever called me an old biddy before.”
She grinned. “They don’t know you as I do.”
