“What?! Nigel?—”
“Then he scolded me for risking Chrissy’s life when I rescued her, accused me of not knowing what the worddutymeans, and finally coerced a promise from me when I was too ill to think clearly regarding what I was promising! Then, the day before yesterday, he sends a coach to fetch me—for which I was not ready—and the minute I walk in the door, drenched from the sudden rain, he yells at me for being late! I ask you, is there any reason why I should think of him fondly?”
Everyone laughed, and Leona saw to see a telltale dark red creep up above Deveraux’s stock.
“Frankly, I’m surprised you don’t call him far worse!” David Fitzhugh said.
“Oh, I do, but not in polite company,” she assured him with a sly smile in Deveraux’s direction.
“I don’t understand,” said Chrissy. “Why did he think you were risking my life to rescue me? You wouldn’t let me climb down the vines you came up, and we were oh so careful.”
“I believe he thought that after finding you, I should have climbed back down the vines and gone to the magistrate.”
“But you said they were too weak. You might have been hurt—or killed, even!”
“I know. But it is a sad fact of life that men do not often think as clearly as we women.”
Lucy giggled. “I believe, dear brother, you have met your match. Leona, you must stay for the ball. I insist! Never in memory have I seen my brother so thoroughly routed. As the poor sister who has tried and failed often to get the best of Nigel, I salute you! What joy! Stay, for I can see we shall be fast friends.”
CHAPTER 6
Leona stirred, coming up out of a light sleep and strange dreams of a ball, and dancing that shockingly fast dance introduced in England just last year: the Waltz. Her partner was a tall man with piercing blue eyes.
She wondered what it was that woke her. An unfamiliar sound? Yes, there it was again, a soft scraping. Curious, she turned over in bed. A plump young girl in an oversized mob cap was carefully sweeping coal ashes out of the grate, a fresh bucket of coal at her side.
Leona yawned. “Gracious, is it morning already?”
The young girl started, her little shovel clanging against the grate. “Beg pardon, miss. I didn’t mean to wake ye. I just thought to warm up the room a mite ’afore ye got up.”
“No harm,” Leona said, stifling another yawn. “It was betimes I was up anyway.”
“Oh, no! ’Tis early yet, miss. Scarce on eight.”
Leona laughed. “At home I’m up and about by seven, if not earlier.”
The little maid nodded. “So it is with Master Deveraux. Been that way since he was a tyke, me mum says. Me mum used to behousekeeper here until she met me da. He’s a carter, is me da,” she said with pride in her voice.
“Ah, I see. And what is your name?”
“Betsy, miss. Betsy Snivel.” She bobbed a curtsey. “Can I fetch ye some hot chocolate, miss? Or somethin’ to eat? Breakfast’s not laid out in the morning room until nine-thirty.”
“Hot chocolate would be wonderful, thank you.”
“There’s nay thankin’ me, miss. ’Tis an honor to serve ye, that is. Ye saved our Lady Chrissy’s life! We’re all beholden to ye. Ye want anything, just ask, we’re that thankful. Now, ye stay right there while I nip on down to the kitchen to fetch it.” She plumped up the pillows so Leona could sit up comfortably. “Be back directly.”
“Thank you,” Leona murmured weakly.
Left alone, Leona studied the room she’d been given. It was the most beautiful room she’d ever slept in. The room was done in shades of apricot and white with gilt trimmings. The drapes and bed hangings, swagged from an ornately carved oak crown above the head of the bed, were watered silk. On the walls was hand-painted Chinese wallpaper with an overall bamboo pattern. The fireplace had one of the new coal stoves before it. All the chair coverings had tapestries of flowers, while the padded bench at the foot of the bed and the small settee over by the windows were covered with velvet.
After all she saw yesterday, the elegance of the room did not surprise Leona. What she still couldn’t get over was the plain to downright ugly exterior of the manor. All in all, Castle Marin was a striking dichotomy—in its appearanceandits people.
Last evening was an interesting example. None of the people at the table—except perhaps Chrissy—were quite as she expected, particularly Nigel Deveraux! She would never have thought him able to tease gently or show humor. In her mind’s eye, she always saw him as stern, slightly cynical,and full of self-consequence. Never would she have imagined his smile unless colored by cynicism. To see his enjoyment, to watch the interplay with his family, was unsettling, for it revealed a kinder man than she’d expected. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know a kinder Nigel Deveraux. That man might undermine her independence. It was challenging to maintain a truly independent spirit around sympathetic people who only “wanted to help.” They did not see their help as crippling, but so it could be. Leona had worked on her independence, worked to renew respect for the Leonard name and therefore herself. She wasn’t ready to turn over her hard-earned success to another. It was her duty that spurred her on, but it also gave her a sense of fulfillment heretofore missing in her life. It was not a fulfillment she would quickly abandon, for that fulfillment also gave her identity.
A knock on the door interrupted her reverie. Her face relaxed, the lines of determination smoothing. Laughing at her fierceness, she called out permission to enter.
It was the maid with her tray of chocolate.
“May I come in, too?” Lady Lucy bade from the doorway. “I saw Betsy coming with your chocolate and thought I might steal a march on the others.”
