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“Er… not terribly well. I visited here one week every summer as a boy and sometimes when I was older, but not as often as I should have. I had always thought my father would take the title and that it might not come to me for many years.”
Arthur hadn’t meant to share something so personal, but it had slipped out.
“Your father is gone?” Matilda asked quietly, speaking for the first time since they sat down for dinner.
“Yes, he died when I was twenty, and my mother died last year. Uncle Bernard was my closest relative.”
Matilda’s standoffish air melted a bit at hearing that. He could see it in the way her blue eyes softened.
“I’m so sorry, Lord Castleton. I know what it means to lose one’s parents.”
She was an orphan, like him. Something about that shared history burrowed into his chest, leaving an unexpected ache. He didn’t want to feel pity or compassion for her, and he didn’t want her to feel those things for him.
Arthur changed the subject, not wishing to discuss their losses. “My steward, Mr. Fulton, informed me that you have lived your entire life at Meadow Cross.”
“Yes, my entire life.” Matilda met his gaze this time, and her defiance was charming. It was as though she wanted to remind him that he was threatening to cast two helpless women out of their home.Clever, brave creature, he thought. He decided to bait her.
“I suppose you were a quaint, well-behaved child?”
Her eyes lit with fire. “Certainly not. I am told I was quite a little terror. I never kept a single dress clean, and every pair of boots I owned suffered such a scuffing that my mother was convinced I had taken up rock scaling.”
“Mattie, dear, did you sayfrog impaling?” Aunt Florence broke in before she sneezed. “Oh dear, I’m afraid my ears are stuffed and I can’t hear a thing.”
“Rock scaling, Aunt Florence.” Matilda pushed a glass of water closer to her aunt, who sipped it gratefully.
Arthur wondered if Matilda was aware of how she was taking care of her aunt like a nursemaid. It made him wonder who the devil took care of Matilda when she was ill? He blinked at the uncharacteristically compassionate thought.
Florence coughed again. “I think perhaps I ought to retire. I’m very sorry for being poor company, my lord.”
“Please, do not apologize. Go upstairs and finish your meal. A footman shall bring it up for you.”
Aunt Florence blew her nose into her handkerchief and then quickly left the dining room.
Arthur instructed a footman to collect Miss Wells’s plates and take them upstairs for her.
“I’ve sent for the doctor, and he should be arriving soon if the weather doesn’t hold him up,” he said to Matilda.
“Thank you…” The fire in her eyes had faded. “Perhaps I should go see to her now.”
“She will be fine. Sit and finish your own food. It looks as if you’ve barely eaten.”
Matilda glanced down at her food as if surprised to see her plate full. Was she used to restraint when eating because she and her aunt were forced to economize and stretch their food supplies to last? The thought made his frown deepen.
“Please,” he said again. “There is plenty of food, and my cook would be wounded if she believed you didn’t like what she had prepared.”
“I wouldn’t want to hurt Mrs. Beasley’s feelings. She’s such a dear woman,” Matilda said, and focused on eating more.
Arthur watched Matilda, thinking. It was clear that she knew his household staff better than he did, which wasn’t that hard, he supposed, because he didn’t know most of their names aside from his butler and his housekeeper. Mr. Stodgens explained that old Bernard had invited Florence and Matilda to Castleton Hall every week to satisfy his need for companionship and conversation. Strangely, Arthur found he rather understood this. He was miles from other homes and more than a day’s ride from London. A social man would be damned lonely here if he never went to London.
The door to the dining room opened. Stodgens entered and discreetly approached him.
“My lord, Dr. Danvers is here to see Miss Wells.”
“Thank you. Please send him upstairs to her chambers. I would like to speak with him once he is done examining her.”
“Yes, my lord.” The butler slipped out of the room and when he was gone, Matilda looked at him with a silent question in her eyes.
“I suppose I really should go then—” She rose, but Arthur held up his hand.
