Read Online The Taste of Innocence by Stephanie Laurens - Free Book Online

says the thatch is worn. We’ll have to get the thatchers to come and fix it.” She grimaced.
    Mrs. Duncliffe sighed. “I do wish we could get the wings better roofed. This is the third time we’ve had to bring the thatchers in over the past year, and that thatch is not getting any younger.”
    Glancing at Charlie, Sarah caught his eye. “All three wings are thatched. We’ve had Hendricks, the local builder, in to look at replacing the thatch with slate, but he said that we’d need to replace the whole roof—all the timbers and joists—in order to support the weight of the slate, but then the walls won’t hold the additional weight. The walls in the wings are mostly lath and plaster—only their foundations are stone.”
    Charlie nodded. “That’s why so many thatched cottages remain thatched. No way to replace the roof without replacing the walls and lintels —which amounts to replacing the entire building.”
    Skeggs grunted. “So.” He made a note. “I’ll send for the thatchers.”
    “Meanwhile,” Sarah said, “let’s pray it doesn’t rain.”
    The meeting continued; Charlie listened and learned. By the time the committee adjourned, he had a basic knowledge of the workings of the orphanage. He rose and followed the committee members from the room. Sarah farewelled the others in the front hall; with a nod to him, Mrs. Duncliffe and Skeggs left, Mrs. Duncliffe to drive the tall thin solicitor down to his office in Crowcombe before heading south to the vicarage at Combe Florey.
    Closing the front door behind them, Sarah turned to Charlie. “It’s almost time for luncheon. I usually stay for the rest of the day—there’s always plenty to do, and it gives me a chance to catch up with the staff, and the children, too.”
    She tried to read his face but, as usual, his expression gave her no hint as to his thoughts. In the dim hall, his eyes were shadowed; she could, however, feel his gaze on her face.
    “Would you mind if I stayed, too?” There was a touch of diffidence in his tone, as if he feared she might think the request too encroaching.
    Instead, the evidence of sensitivity reassured her. She smiled. “If you’re willing to endure luncheon with a tribe of noisy children, then by all means stay. But there’s various things I must do later—it’ll be hours before I can leave.”
    He shrugged, lips curving. “I’m sure I’ll be able to find something to fill the hours.” His smile deepened as they turned to the corridor leading to the dining room. The sound of the children filing in was already swelling to a cacophony. “Besides,” he murmured as they neared the open door, “I’ll have the ride home with you—alone with you—to look forward to.”
    He met her eyes as she glanced up, trapped them; she was suddenly conscious of how close they stood, coming together in the doorway. For one instant, despite the noise assailing her ears, she was more aware of him—of his strength, potent and palpable as with one hand he held back the heavy door, of his maleness, carried in the heat that reached for her as their bodies passed mere inches apart.
    Her lungs had tightened, but she managed a smile—a light, gentle one in return—as she inclined her head in acknowledgment of his gallantry and stepped over the threshold.
    Mrs. Carter—Katy—principal cook and chief caretaker, saw Charlie and quickly laid another place at the staff table at one side of the room. A motherly woman of middle age with no children of her own, left alone when her sailor husband had been lost at sea, Katy had been Lady Cricklade’s choice to manage the orphanage; over the years, Sarah had had ample reason to bless her late godmother’s judgment.
    Sarah led Charlie to the table, indicated that he should take the chair beside hers, then introduced him to the others as, one by one, after herding their charges in and seeing them settled at the long refectory tables lined up across the room, they came to take their