Page 23 of A Second Chance for Love

“No, no, your husband is fine,” Oona hastened to assure her.

“He is out with my footman looking for your cat, ma’am. He is fine,” Juss reiterated. “I’m afraid we got caught in the blizzard and—”

The old lady opened the door wide. “Of course, of course—you must be frozen half to death. What am I thinking to keep you standing outside—come in, come in.” She squinted up at them, her expression one of awe as she looked all the way up at Juss. “My, but you’re a big fellow.”

Juss chuckled and shut the door behind him. “I am Justin Taylor and this is my wife, Mrs. Oona Taylor.”

Oona felt a frisson of excitement at the sound of her name coupled with his.

“Welcome, welcome,” Mrs. Cantrell said. “I’m afraid I don’t see as well as I used to, so I have to use this old thing,” she tapped her cane on the floor. “I wasn’t expecting visitors so the parlor is as cold as a grave. But the kitchen—”

“The kitchen sounds wonderful,” Oona assured her.

Mrs. Cantrell smiled with relief. “You can take off your coats in there and get warm by the stove.” She turned and began stumping her way toward the back of the house, leading them through a series of cold, dark rooms. “I apologize for all this gloom but the light doesn’t help me much so I don’t light candles when it’s just me and Jonathan here. Usually my daughter and her husband would be here, but they went to see his family since they won’t be with them at Christmas this year, so it’s just the two of us.”

“You’re all alone?”

“We have two young folks from town to help, but I daresay they’ll not be here tomorrow with all this snow.”

“Oh, that smells delicious,” Oona murmured as they approached a doorway with light leaking out around the edges.

“I was just getting some baking in when I noticed Winnie wasn’t laying in her favorite spot near the stove.” She opened the door and Juss sucked in a deep breath

“Mince pies?” he asked hopefully.

The old lady chuckled. “And two apple.” She set her cane into a holder by the door, her actions more confident in a room that was clearly her domain. “Go warm yourselves,” she gestured to a huge stove shimmering heat. “I’m going to put the kettle on.”

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Juss said, lifting Oona’s cloak from her shoulders and hanging it on a peg before removing his own scarf and coat. “I don’t think we could have made it to Henley tonight.”

“Oh goodness gracious!” she said, turning away from the tea pot, which she was filling with tea leaves. “You’re a good hour away on a clear day and probably four or five on a night like tonight.”

Juss pulled a chair closer to the stove and gestured to Oona. “My coachman was having difficulty finding the road. He was lucky he saw your husband’s—”

Sounds came from the small room just off the kitchen.

“Is that you, dear?” Mrs. Cantrell called.

A slight, bent figure appeared in the doorway, stomping heavy boots on the straw matt. The only part of his face Oona could see were twinkling sky-blue eyes and fluffy white eyebrows.

“It’s me, Mother.”

Mrs. Cantrell moved with remarkable speed toward him, her hands finding his scarf as if they had eyes of their own. “Jonathan, did you—”

“I didn’t,” he said, as he tugged off his thick woolen mittens. “But the young man found her.”

“Oh thank goodness.” Her slender body sagged with relief.

“You go sit down, Mother,” he urged gently as he took the ends of his long scarf from her hands and unwound it to expose a face so crisscrossed with age you could hardly see his features.

Mrs. Cantrell straightened suddenly. “I’m in the middle of making tea for our guests, Jonathan Cantrell. Plenty of time to sit and chat after.”

Jonathan Cantrell grinned at Oona and Juss, unchastened. “After sixty years you’d think I’d know not to come between Mary and her tea.”

Sixty. Years.

Just how old were these people? And why were they alone?

Oona met Juss’s gaze and knew he was thinking the same thing: this man might not have made it back home if Charles hadn’t been there to help.