efforts to save your deceitful hide. Now leave me and my aunt alone. We have no use for your kind.”
“Yes, you have your mask for protection, don’t you?” Garett mocked.
“Just leave us be!” Mina repeated before wheeling around and sweeping from the room. Tamara cast both men a contemptuous look, then followed her niece out, slamming the door behind her.
Garett watched them go, eyes narrowing. Mina’s answers hadn’t satisfied him one whit. What were she and her fierce aunt doing in Lydgate? Was the mask really meant just to protect her from unwanted advances, or did she have a more sinister reason?
She speaks of flowers and gardens and chides you for killing. That’s hardly the mark of someone with a sinister character.
True, but something was going on with her and her aunt. The townspeople turned mysteriously silent whenever he asked about her, and in a town like Lydgate, people never kept their opinions to themselves.
“Two fine-looking wenches,” Will muttered as he stared at the closed door. “But their tongues are a mite too sharp for a man’s enjoyment, eh, m’lord?”
“Indeed,” Garett replied absently.
“That Tamara has a strong arm when she’s wielding a vase, but I’ll wager she’s soft as silk when a man’s got her ’neath him.”
Tamara didn’t interest Garett. But Mina . . . Mina had a soft mouth too tempting for words. He’d wager it was softer than silk.
Will threw his master a sly glance. “Do you mean to leave them be like they asked?”
Garett thought of Mina’s evasions, her strange tale of a noble father, and her obvious familiarity with the people of Lydgate, who mysteriously pretended not to know a thing about her.
“Not a chance.”
Chapter Five
To the glass your lips incline;
And I shall see by that one kiss
The water turned to wine.
—Robert Herrick,
“To the Water Nymphs Drinking at the Fountain”
D awn’s light washed the Falkham House garden with sudden fire, making every dew-drenched leaf and twig twinkle magically, but Marianne spared only a moment to note its beauty. Drawing her heavy cloak more tightly about her, she slipped between the shrubs and onto the weed-choked path, her breath forming misty clouds in the cool fall air.
When she found the overgrown stretch of rows, she cast a furtive glance about her, but no one stirred in this secluded part of the estate near the apple trees. This had been Mother’s special medicinal garden. Here Marianne hoped to find what she needed.
She crept forward until she came upon the scarlet berries and deep purple flowers signifying black nightshade. Thank heavens they’d survived the months ofneglect. Nightshade could generally be found in fields and ditches everywhere, but this was no common stock. Father had brought the specially grown variety back from France years before. Nothing else was as effective for halting spasms and healing heart troubles, both of which were common among Lydgate’s elderly.
She withdrew the small spade hidden inside her cloak, then carefully dug up three plants. She’d have to replant them in a less dangerous place now that the earl was in residence.
Packing the roots with soil, she wrapped them in the wet rags she’d brought and slid them carefully into her pouch. She ought to leave now, but where else could she find so many useful medicinal plants? Mr. Tibbett used powders and dried herbs brought from London, and he didn’t always carry what she required anyway. One of the townspeople had given her a little patch of land for her garden, but it would take months for seeds to take root. She was already here. Why not take what she needed while no one was about to bother her?
With her mind made up, she crept through the garden, digging up lady’s mantle and woundwort, lad’s love and moonwort. Fortunately, she’d brought plenty of wet rags and pouches. Some of the plants wouldn’t survive, but enough would to make the beginnings of a respectable garden.
As she
“Yes, you have your mask for protection, don’t you?” Garett mocked.
“Just leave us be!” Mina repeated before wheeling around and sweeping from the room. Tamara cast both men a contemptuous look, then followed her niece out, slamming the door behind her.
Garett watched them go, eyes narrowing. Mina’s answers hadn’t satisfied him one whit. What were she and her fierce aunt doing in Lydgate? Was the mask really meant just to protect her from unwanted advances, or did she have a more sinister reason?
She speaks of flowers and gardens and chides you for killing. That’s hardly the mark of someone with a sinister character.
True, but something was going on with her and her aunt. The townspeople turned mysteriously silent whenever he asked about her, and in a town like Lydgate, people never kept their opinions to themselves.
“Two fine-looking wenches,” Will muttered as he stared at the closed door. “But their tongues are a mite too sharp for a man’s enjoyment, eh, m’lord?”
“Indeed,” Garett replied absently.
“That Tamara has a strong arm when she’s wielding a vase, but I’ll wager she’s soft as silk when a man’s got her ’neath him.”
Tamara didn’t interest Garett. But Mina . . . Mina had a soft mouth too tempting for words. He’d wager it was softer than silk.
Will threw his master a sly glance. “Do you mean to leave them be like they asked?”
Garett thought of Mina’s evasions, her strange tale of a noble father, and her obvious familiarity with the people of Lydgate, who mysteriously pretended not to know a thing about her.
“Not a chance.”
Chapter Five
To the glass your lips incline;
And I shall see by that one kiss
The water turned to wine.
—Robert Herrick,
“To the Water Nymphs Drinking at the Fountain”
D awn’s light washed the Falkham House garden with sudden fire, making every dew-drenched leaf and twig twinkle magically, but Marianne spared only a moment to note its beauty. Drawing her heavy cloak more tightly about her, she slipped between the shrubs and onto the weed-choked path, her breath forming misty clouds in the cool fall air.
When she found the overgrown stretch of rows, she cast a furtive glance about her, but no one stirred in this secluded part of the estate near the apple trees. This had been Mother’s special medicinal garden. Here Marianne hoped to find what she needed.
She crept forward until she came upon the scarlet berries and deep purple flowers signifying black nightshade. Thank heavens they’d survived the months ofneglect. Nightshade could generally be found in fields and ditches everywhere, but this was no common stock. Father had brought the specially grown variety back from France years before. Nothing else was as effective for halting spasms and healing heart troubles, both of which were common among Lydgate’s elderly.
She withdrew the small spade hidden inside her cloak, then carefully dug up three plants. She’d have to replant them in a less dangerous place now that the earl was in residence.
Packing the roots with soil, she wrapped them in the wet rags she’d brought and slid them carefully into her pouch. She ought to leave now, but where else could she find so many useful medicinal plants? Mr. Tibbett used powders and dried herbs brought from London, and he didn’t always carry what she required anyway. One of the townspeople had given her a little patch of land for her garden, but it would take months for seeds to take root. She was already here. Why not take what she needed while no one was about to bother her?
With her mind made up, she crept through the garden, digging up lady’s mantle and woundwort, lad’s love and moonwort. Fortunately, she’d brought plenty of wet rags and pouches. Some of the plants wouldn’t survive, but enough would to make the beginnings of a respectable garden.
As she
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