Read Online The Lie and the Lady by Kate Noble - Free Book Online Page A

Stephen’s churchyard.
    What is she doing here?
    â€œWhat is that, John?” He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud.
    He turned to look down at his mother, asker of the question. Helen Braithwaite Turner blinked twice at him, expecting an answer.
    â€œI . . . I did not expect to see Miss Babcock at church this morning. That’s all.”
    His mother was not one to suffer lying, or indeed, foolishness of any kind. So if someone was going to call him on the oddity of his statement, it would be she. But she instead latched on to a different part of his sentence.
    â€œTaking notice of Miss Babcock, are we?” Helen replied. “Good.”
    â€œGood?” he asked, his head swiveling back to look at her.
    â€œIt’s high time you started taking notice of young, marriageable women.” The stress she put on the word marriageable made his jaw clench, a force of habit. “Once the mill is open and running properly, you will need someone—”
    â€œI have no need of ‘someone,’ I have you.” Turner replied automatically, if not a little syrupy. He needed to distract her. Needed her to leave off this line of inquiry and leave him to his thoughts in peace.
    What is she doing here?
    But Helen Braithwaite Turner was never one to succumb to flattery.
    â€œI won’t be around forever.” She snorted. “Besides, who says I want the job? I would like to take some time for myself in my old age.”
    â€œYou’re hardly decrepit.”
    â€œAnd yet, I’ve never been sea-bathing . . .” His mother let that thought drift off as he shook his head, a rueful smile appearing. His mother had a will of steel. She’d single-handedly kept the Turner Grain Mill alive while he was at war. When he returned to find that his father had passed and the grand windmill at the entrance to Helmsley was a proud tower of soot-stained stones, she was the one who kept the vultures at bay while he went to London to earn the money necessary to rebuild.
    It had taken years longer than anticipated, and several other minor catastrophes delayed the mill’s reopening, but all the while Helen Turner had persevered.
    And now that she had decided it was time for her son to marry, she would persevere again.
    â€œI’m just saying that if Miss Babcock has caught your eye, it would be a fine thing to pursue. After all, I have an inkling that the girl is keen on you . . .”
    Turner did everything in his power to contain a laugh. It wouldn’t do to laugh in the middle of the churchyard. But if his mother knew that the last woman he proposed to happened to be standing next to Margaret Babcock, she would perhaps dissolve into hysterics as well.
    What is she doing here?
    â€œDo you have any objection to Miss Babcock?”
    His mother was not about to let this one go.
    â€œI have no objection to her,” Turner replied. He’d known Miss Babcock the whole of the girl’s life. And while in her youth she had been an awkward, shy thing, she had in the past few years while he was in London become an awkward, tall thing. But that was nothing compared to her status in society as Sir Barty’s daughter, and her general harmlessness. “But I do not think that interest should be given simply because of a lack of objection.”
    His mother snorted. “Well, then perhaps a better reason is because Sir Barty’s estate produces over half of the grain in the area.”
    His mind was frazzled enough trying not to stare at Leticia—his Letty—and thus had no patience for games.
    â€œWhat’s your point, Mother?”
    â€œMy point is, even once the mill is open and running, it can still fail if we haven’t any customers.”
    His mind swung wildly back to what she was saying, barely able to comprehend. Leave it to his mother to suggest what he thought she was suggesting. “That is terribly mercenary of