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“Excellent. And, Noelle,” Brigitte added with undisguised pleasure, “I’m proud of you. That was a mature and responsible decision
. Fuzzy is lucky to have you looking out for him.” With that, she turned back to Eric, nearly laughing aloud at his stunned expression. “The kitchen, my lord?”
“H-m-m? Oh, the kitchen.” He dragged a hand through his thick hair. “It’s directly beneath the pantry area—which is down the stairs to your right. Groceries are delivered once a month, as is coal, wood, and whatever other supplies I require. I presume you can cook?”
“Of course.”
“Fine. Because my own needs are meager and I see to them myself. However, I pay the delivery men well. So order whatever additional groceries you want for you and Noelle. They’ll see you get them.”
“Excellent.” Brigitte’s eyes sparkled. “You may leave us now, my lord.”
Eric’s lips twitched ever so slightly. “Clearly, I can.”
With a mystified glance from Brigitte to Noelle, he swerved and headed down the hall toward the east wing.
“He likes you,” Noelle piped up.
“Pardon me?”
“Uncle. He likes you.”
Brigitte folded her arms across her chest. “Really. How do you know that?”
A matter-of-fact shrug. “The way he looks at you. And even though you made him mad, he almost smiled after he chest-ized you.”
“Ah. I see.”
“You like him, too. Don’t you?”
Brigitte gazed wistfully after Eric’s retreating back. “Yes, Noelle, I do. Very much.”
“How come you don’t lie?”
“What?” Brigitte’s attention snapped back to her inquisitive young charge.
“Grown-ups always lie.”
“Not all grown-ups. And certainly not always.”
“You’re different,” Noelle countered. “You don’t lie. You don’t talk to me like I’m too dumb to understand. You don’t ignore Fuzzy. And you don’t even hate me.”
“Hate you?” Brigitte felt a knife twist in her heart. “Why would anyone hate you? You’re intelligent, witty, and spirited.”
Another shrug. “Papa hated me. I heard Mrs. Lawley say he never even wanted to meet me. ’Course, Mrs. Lawley hated me, too—just like all the other families who brought me back to Farrington. And Uncle? He hates me most of all. He never keeps me for more than a day. Then he finds another family for me to live with. But they always return me, and it starts again.” Noelle stared at the tip of her shoe. “My mama didn’t hate me. I could tell in the picture of her I saw. She was too beautiful to hate me. But she’s dead. That’s probably why I’m beyond re-damn-sin.” Noelle’s lashes lifted, and she inclined her head quizzically “What’s re-damn-sin?”
Brigitte wasn’t certain she could speak. “Who said you were beyond redemption?”
“Mrs. Lawley. What does it mean?”
“It means Mrs. Lawley is a terrible judge of character,” Brigitte managed, striving for control.
“Is she beyond re-damn-sin?”
“I hope not. But at this moment, I’m not at all certain.”
“Her dog is. He tried to bite Fuzzy.” Noelle considered the matter. “Whatever re-damn-sin is, it must be a very bad thing to be. It has two wicked words in it—well, really only one. ‘Sin’ is only bad when you do it; saying it doesn’t count. ‘Damn’ is bad all the time.”
Thank God for Noelle’s precociousness, Brigitte reflected as she dissolved into laughter. Without it, she might have stormed over to Mrs. Lawley’s house and slapped the woman across her thoughtless face—she and all the other supposedly fine, decent families Noelle had been subjected to these past four years.
