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Authors: Bárbara Metzger
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he said I was always finding bogeymen under my bed. He hired that woman, and she said only he could fire her."
It would have been too much to expect Emonda to grow a backbone in the two years he'd been gone. She was so damnably weak and feather-headed. "I'd have thought Suzannah would have shown more spirit. Ah, would have kicked up a dust."
Emonda wiped her eyes. "She thought it was a great joke, just another one of Harry's pranks. And since Mrs. Reardon never interfered with her, Suzannah could not care one way or the other."
"She's still a hoyden then?"
"I am sure you are going to blame me for that too." She sniffled into the cloth.
"Will you stop that blubbering, Emmy! We'll come about."
"Fine for you to say. You'll go back to your silly war, and Suzannah is just a child, but I am ruined. I shall be tarred by the same brush as that woman, and no one shall ever hire me as a governess."
Now she was sobbing in earnest, and each sob added another knot in Carey's stomach. "Will you get that pea-brained notion out of your head? You are underage and I would never let my ward go into service."
"I am not your ward" came as a muffled cry from the handkerchief.
Carey handed his own linen over, thinking Lud, she must need a fresh one by now. "You were my father's ward, now you are mine," he told her firmly. "Surely he would have made some provision for seeing you settled."
"We were going to go up to London when Suzannah was a little older. He set aside a dowry for me." The weeping started anew.
Desperate, Carey promised, "We can still go. That's years away. You'll see, you'll make a fine match with your good lineage, a handsome portion, and your pretty looks. Blondes are all the crack." He tried to avoid looking at her red-stained eyes and splotchy face.
"No, I won't make any kind of match," she wailed, jumping out of her chair. "Who would have me after the Delverson Devils visited here, and then that… woman moved in? I am ruined!" She rushed past him, down the hall, and up the stairs.
"I should be charging you admission for this," Carey told the same footman before inquiring into his sister's whereabouts.
"I couldn't find her, milord, Captain, sir. Miss Delverson is usually out and about the countryside at this time of day."
Carey headed toward the ancient oak where he and his cousins had spent hours building forts and playing at Robin Hood. Suzannah and her playmate Heywood Jeffers had taken over the old climbing tree so Carey thought he'd look there first.
Suzannah and Woody were not climbing, and if the brat's interpretation of Maid Marian was correct, Nottingham Forest would have been a safer place for rich folks.
The two youngsters sprang apart at Carey's bellow and Suzannah, her dark hair, blue eyes, and aristocratic scowl a perfect match to Carey's own, stepped in front of her red-haired, red-faced swain. "We are going to be married," she announced, "and you cannot stop us."
"Watch me" was all Carey said. He'd had an unpleasant enough day with nowhere to vent his frustrations. Young Heywood was the perfect place. Sixteen and stringy, poor Woody could only dangle when Carey picked him up by the collar. Suzannah meanwhile was pounding her brother on the back with a fallen branch and screeching about cutting out his liver and lights. She was a flea to Carey's mastiff, and poor Woody was the rat being shaken into oblivion.
Ned was already bringing Woody's horse around from the stable so Carey booted the squire's son ahead of him. He stopped when they reached the gravel and turned the lad until Heywood could see death staring him in the eyes.
"I suggest you see about finishing your education, Master Jeffers, else I shall see to it for you, and I promise I shall not be such a lenient schoolmaster next time. Do you understand?"
Woody could barely nod, his bony Adam's apple bobbing up and down over Captain Delverson's fist. Carey tossed the boy over the saddle. He made sure Woody had the reins in his
It would have been too much to expect Emonda to grow a backbone in the two years he'd been gone. She was so damnably weak and feather-headed. "I'd have thought Suzannah would have shown more spirit. Ah, would have kicked up a dust."
Emonda wiped her eyes. "She thought it was a great joke, just another one of Harry's pranks. And since Mrs. Reardon never interfered with her, Suzannah could not care one way or the other."
"She's still a hoyden then?"
"I am sure you are going to blame me for that too." She sniffled into the cloth.
"Will you stop that blubbering, Emmy! We'll come about."
"Fine for you to say. You'll go back to your silly war, and Suzannah is just a child, but I am ruined. I shall be tarred by the same brush as that woman, and no one shall ever hire me as a governess."
Now she was sobbing in earnest, and each sob added another knot in Carey's stomach. "Will you get that pea-brained notion out of your head? You are underage and I would never let my ward go into service."
"I am not your ward" came as a muffled cry from the handkerchief.
Carey handed his own linen over, thinking Lud, she must need a fresh one by now. "You were my father's ward, now you are mine," he told her firmly. "Surely he would have made some provision for seeing you settled."
"We were going to go up to London when Suzannah was a little older. He set aside a dowry for me." The weeping started anew.
Desperate, Carey promised, "We can still go. That's years away. You'll see, you'll make a fine match with your good lineage, a handsome portion, and your pretty looks. Blondes are all the crack." He tried to avoid looking at her red-stained eyes and splotchy face.
"No, I won't make any kind of match," she wailed, jumping out of her chair. "Who would have me after the Delverson Devils visited here, and then that… woman moved in? I am ruined!" She rushed past him, down the hall, and up the stairs.
"I should be charging you admission for this," Carey told the same footman before inquiring into his sister's whereabouts.
"I couldn't find her, milord, Captain, sir. Miss Delverson is usually out and about the countryside at this time of day."
Carey headed toward the ancient oak where he and his cousins had spent hours building forts and playing at Robin Hood. Suzannah and her playmate Heywood Jeffers had taken over the old climbing tree so Carey thought he'd look there first.
Suzannah and Woody were not climbing, and if the brat's interpretation of Maid Marian was correct, Nottingham Forest would have been a safer place for rich folks.
The two youngsters sprang apart at Carey's bellow and Suzannah, her dark hair, blue eyes, and aristocratic scowl a perfect match to Carey's own, stepped in front of her red-haired, red-faced swain. "We are going to be married," she announced, "and you cannot stop us."
"Watch me" was all Carey said. He'd had an unpleasant enough day with nowhere to vent his frustrations. Young Heywood was the perfect place. Sixteen and stringy, poor Woody could only dangle when Carey picked him up by the collar. Suzannah meanwhile was pounding her brother on the back with a fallen branch and screeching about cutting out his liver and lights. She was a flea to Carey's mastiff, and poor Woody was the rat being shaken into oblivion.
Ned was already bringing Woody's horse around from the stable so Carey booted the squire's son ahead of him. He stopped when they reached the gravel and turned the lad until Heywood could see death staring him in the eyes.
"I suggest you see about finishing your education, Master Jeffers, else I shall see to it for you, and I promise I shall not be such a lenient schoolmaster next time. Do you understand?"
Woody could barely nod, his bony Adam's apple bobbing up and down over Captain Delverson's fist. Carey tossed the boy over the saddle. He made sure Woody had the reins in his
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