Edmund was reading his letters and finishing his tea as she walked in to the small parlor. There was no one else there, but their footman keeping the breakfast dishes in order.
“Oh dear. So quiet sometimes, isn’t it?” She took a plate and allowed the lad to serve her with eggs and toast. “Tea would be lovely,” she added, smiling at the servant.
“Of course, Miss,” he bowed. “Comin’ right up.”
Edmund folded a note and returned it to the envelope. “So what are your plans for the day, Letitia?”
She buttered the toast. “I’m not quite sure, actually.” Glancing out the window, she observed a heavy grey sky and what could be either wet air or the beginnings of drizzle. “Obviously not a walk.”
“Needlework?” One of Edmund’s famous eyebrows rose quizzically.
His sister was unimpressed. “I don’t think so.”
“Have you ever done needlework?”
“I’ve darned my clothes,” she said. “There were times I think I may have darned yours as well.”
He blinked. “But you would have been…a mere child.”
“Not for long,” she stared at the rain. “We weren’t really children at all, Edmund. Were we?” She sighed. “Hugh is going to have a wonderful childhood, full of love and warmth and toys and smiling faces.”
“All the things we never had,” agreed Edmund. “He’ll probably turn into a spoiled brat.”
Letitia chuckled. “Well, that can easily be dealt with.” She looked up at Edmund. “It’s harder for us, isn’t it?”
He nodded, understanding. “We can’t erase the past. Or repair it. We just have to go on.”
“It’s easier for you now, though?”
“Yes.” He stacked is letters into a pile. “Yes, it is. Thanks to Rosaline.”
“You’re lucky.”
He stood with his packet of mail and looked at his sister. “Don’t be afraid to find your own happiness, Letty. It doesn’t hurt, you know.”
She smiled at the childhood name. “It might, though. And I don’t think I could stand that.” She rose as well. “Besides, I have too many other things to think about at the moment. I must find Harry. Perhaps it’s a good day to go through another room we’ve not touched yet.”
He walked her to the door. “We will eventually run out of rooms to renovate, my dear.”
“Then it will be time to start over again.” She gazed around her at the newly polished and repaired hall. “There’s always work at the Chase, Edmund. I shan’t be bored.”
“It’s not your boredom that worries me, my dear.” He touched her shoulder affectionately. “It’s your happiness.”
“Oh pshaw.” She brushed the topic away. “Go and do Baron things, brother mine. I shall endeavour to pass the time fruitfully. There are still mice to be routed. Perhaps I shall find us a cat…”
“Oh good Lord.” His deep laugh echoed around the high ceiling as he strode away.
Leaving Letitia to wonder exactly what she was going to do today.
Lurking in the back of her mind was the obvious response to that question. She had to start editing her book…a task she wasn’t quite sure she was ready to begin.
She felt…nervous, of course. But in addition she sensed an impatience of sorts growing within her. A need for something, some activity perhaps. A ride? Not on a day like this. It would not be pleasant. Was she running from her duty as a writer? Probably.
Uncomfortable dithering about like a lost butterfly in the hall of Ridlington Chase, Letitia pulled herself together and strode upstairs to find Harry. There were indeed a few unexplored rooms left in the Chase, ones that they could enter without fear of dropping through for an impromptu visit to the room below.
Perhaps that was the best thing to do. Work off this strange energy, and then set to the business of reviewing her book. Oddly enough, the image of James popped into her mind as she pictured an afternoon spent re-reading her erotic work. A dart of fire shot through her, making her legs shiver and her belly tighten.
Now what on earth wasthatall about?
