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Emily was twitching. “I made it, Papa. Jack and Clara helped me. It’s the filling for a cherry pie.”
“It is very good,” he said, praising their efforts.
All the children began speaking of their contribution, their voices overlapping each other in the excitement. Evie laughed, somehow managing to herd them from the kitchen and toward their rooms with a firm order to make themselves presentable for luncheon on the lawns.
Emily hesitated and glanced back. “Lady Evie?”
“Yes?”
“Will you join us in the gardens for reading? I…I would like to read my story to you. I wrote it myself,” she said proudly, though with a shy smile.
The muscles of Richard’s throat locked. He and Jack were the only persons Emily had ever shared her stories with. It had taken her a year to read and write properly, and it was as if a dam had been opened, a creative outlet to pour out her pain. Her stories were filled with terrifying monsters and children who bravely defeated them with swords. Richard always played a role in her stories, the wizard who gave her magic to defeat the monsters or the enchanted tree in the forest which turned into a wolf to help them from time to time. Equal apprehension and pleasure filled his heart that she was sharing her stories with another. He understood the leap of faith and trust she took with her request. It also told him how much she admired Evie.
“I would dearly love to read them.”
Relief filled his daughter’s eyes, and a dazzling smile erupted from her. “I’ll go get them!”
She bounded away, leaving them alone, and Evie took an inordinate amount of time removing the apron and balling it into a tight wad before facing him.
The burn of emotions tangling in his gut was hard to explain. “Evie…”
His words tapered as she moved toward the parlor, silently beckoning him to follow. He padded behind her and gently closed the door behind them. Her pink dress seemed to have been freshly laundered and pressed, but her glorious mane of hair streamed past her shoulders down to her mid back. Her eyes were guarded, and a permanent blush seemed to be affixed to her cheeks.
“The note you left on the pillow said you went for a ride, and that you left orders for a carriage to take me to Rosette Park after I broke my fast.”
“I know what it said.”
Her eyes searched his face intently. “I know you’re not going to offer marriage. You did warn me, but I do not expect to be scooted away as if nothing happened, nor do I expect an alteration to our friendship.”
Her directness rattled something inside. “That was not my intention, I assure you. I simply wanted you to have a couple more hours of rest, and I had business in the village to attend.”
“I sent a note to Adel at Rosette Park.” Evie’s throat worked on a swallow. “I…I explained to Adel that the rains had forced me to spend the night.”
“I’d already sent a note last night…while you were sleeping.”
Her cheeks flamed. “Thank you,” she said with a tentative smile that knocked the breath from his lungs.
“I will have luncheon with the children, and I’ll read Emily’s stories before departing.”
He met her unflinching regard. “I expect visitors shortly.”
She inhaled sharply. “Visitors, from town?”
“Yes, in truth, I forgot they would descend on us today.”
Evie paled. “I must depart at once. For me to be here without a chaperone will incite speculation.”
An unpleasant chill blasted through him. Evie looked ready to faint. A humorless chuckle escaped him. He could see her calculating the fallout of being caught at his home, and the worry in her eyes confirmed she was incapable of walking in his world. “Of course, I’ve already ordered the carriage for you.”
“I’ll inform the children I will call upon them tomorrow with a chaperone.”
“That won’t be necessary. My guests will still be here, and you mustn’t be seen by polite society in the company of bastards.”
“You are being dreadfully unfair, Richard.”
“I’m frank and realistic.”
She stared at him wordlessly, anger and tears glittering on her lashes. “I will speak with Emily right away,” Evie countered staunchly. “I promise I shall visit again.”
