‘I would like that very much, my lord.’
Drat.
‘And I believe you have witnessed the depths of my disobedience. Should I have any further desire to demonstrate my impudence, I shall be sure to quash it immediately.’
‘Do refrain from doing any such thing,’ he ordered with a chuckle. ‘You would be quashing your very spirit, Mrs Hardwicke. Infuriating though your contrariness might be, I dare say you would be less yourself without it. And I like you just as you are.’
‘Then perhaps I shall simply give you fair warning,’ Rebecca said, with a calm assuredness she most certainly did not feel. ‘So that you might better prepare for battle.’
‘A fair compromise indeed.’
A broad, cheeky smile spread across his face, and Rebecca could not help but return it.
Rebecca, you are surely the most dim-witted, weak-willed ninny in existence.
‘May I ask,’ Liam said thoughtfully after a moment, ‘where did you get the key?’
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I found it on my desk one morning. The morning—Well, it matters not. I thought of asking the others, but...’
‘Whoever left it did so for a reason.’
Yes, I suppose they did.
Rebecca shrugged, unable to voice the words, and Liam nodded. They continued their walk in a companionable silence until they reached Mrs Ffoulkes’s. Raising her hand to knock, Rebecca stopped, looked over at Liam thoughtfully, then reached into the basket and handed him the parcel of parkin.
‘She has been quite eager to see you,’ she said, in response to his enquiring look. ‘Might help excuse your delay in visiting.’
Without waiting for an answer, she turned back to the door and knocked.
‘Don’t you think this parkin’ll get you into my good graces, young man,’ Mrs Ffoulkes said, eyeing him over her cup of tea once they’d all settled into her cottage some time later.
Liam had been right in thinking the old woman wouldn’t have changed, and neither had the little cottage—still warm, cosy and filled to the brim with herbs, knick-knacks and books which Liam wondered whether she could still read.
‘I know very well that cook of yours made them on this one’s orders,’ she said, pursing her lips and gesturing to Rebecca, who sat quietly, smiling into her teacup. ‘It’ll take much more to make me forgive your absence.’
‘I am sorry for my neglect, Mrs Ffoulkes,’ Liam said. Apparently today was the day for apologies. As someone unused to making them, it felt rather unsettling. ‘Though I am relieved, and happy to see you’ve been keeping well.’
‘Well enough,’ the old woman said, shedding some of the sternness. ‘And Mrs Hardwicke has taken good care of me.’
Liam glanced over at his housekeeper. She smiled at Mrs Ffoulkes with such genuine warmth and care, he wondered what it might feel like to have someone—her, really—smile at him in that way.
He took a breath and returned his attention to the old woman, where it belonged.
‘You’ve taken good care of me, Mrs Ffoulkes,’ Rebecca said. ‘I’ve enjoyed our talks.’
‘As have I,’ she replied, placing her hand on the younger woman’s tenderly. ‘As have I. And you, Master Reid, where have you been, then, all these years?’
Liam hesitated for a moment, taking a sip of tea whilst he decided what to say. Rebecca eyed him, clearly also curious to know what he might decide to divulge.
‘I was in the Americas, the Columbia District,’ he said finally, and a tiny smile of approval appeared on his housekeeper’s face. It made him feel...No.‘Worked in trade.’
‘An ocean was not far enough, was it, to escape Thornhallow?’
Liam was temporarily silenced by the woman’s acute clarity.
‘No need to tell me so, I know. Your father was a hard man—anyone who says otherwise is lying, make no mistake. And what happened here—’
‘Mrs Ffoulkes,’ Liam interjected, glancing at Rebecca in alarm.
