“Ah.” Taken aback, she resumed her seat, her eyes wide. “I will never understand the English. You are all so calm about matters that would make us scream and shriek to the skies.”
Giles grinned. “I know that for a fact.”
Royce came over to her. “I’m Royce, Ma’am. Estate manager. And Jeremy here is our head footman, and helps serve the amazing foods prepared by Evan, our chef.”
“Cook.” Evan raised an eyebrow at him.
“Cook, chef…any way you title him, he creates wonderful meals.” Royce gestured to Gabriel. “And this is Gabriel. He does pretty much everything else.”
Ionie extended her hand to Gabriel, her unusual eyes fixed on his face.
They were almost gold, realised Gwyneth, especially when the light caught them a certain way. Set into her incredible features, a skin several shades darker than usual and raven black hair piled high, Ionie was a stunning beauty. And she’d mesmerised Gabriel, who approached and knelt at her feet.
“Madame,” he murmured.“Je suis enchanté.” He took her hand and kissed it.
She touched his hair, then slid her elegant fingers to his chin and raised it. “You are different, my child. Your future is not what you think it is. But trust in your heart, little angel. It will not be easy, but trust in your heart.”
Gabriel rose, his cheeks flushed. “Er, yes, Ma’am. Of course.” A look of confusion crossed his face as he returned to his seat.
“Forgive me,” Ionie raised a hand to her eyes. “Sometimes…I see…”
“Hush now.” Giles rested on the arm of her chair and put a protective hand on her shoulder.
“So, if I may make so bold as to ask…what brings you here to Wolfbridge?” Gwyneth’s question bridged the somewhat awkward silence.
Ionie smiled upward at Giles. “This man, my Lady. This man.”
“Giles?” Gwyneth turned a questioning eyebrow toward him again. “There’s something you’ve not been telling us, I believe.”
“So many things, my Lady,” he quipped with a smile. “But yes, in this instance you’re correct. And although I would have loved to share the story, until recently it was not in my power to do so.”
“But if you can now, please do.”
“I will. ’Tis not a long tale. I met Ionie nearly twenty-five years ago when I was in Jamaica.”
His words drew everyone’s attention and surprised looks greeted his statement. “My parents sent me out to get some worldly experience with a plantation owner, a business associate of my father who told him to send me and he’d show me the ropes.”
“What an amazing trip that must have been,” murmured Evan.
“It was, lad. It was. I loved Jamaica. The sun, the heat, the colours…”
“The rum,” added Jeremy with his irrepressible grin.
“That too, yes,” nodded Giles. “But I didn’t know what love was until a young servant walked in the door with an armful of flowers.”
“Madame Ionie?” asked Gabriel.
“I was just Ionie then. A house slave, nothing more.”
“You were a slave?” Gwyneth could scarcely believe it.
“I was. And luckier than many, since house slaves were fairly well fed and well treated. At least they were on the Summerfield plantation.”
Silence fell as she named the plantation and the wheels clicked into place in the heads of her listeners.
“Yes, you’re all thinking the same thing. I wasn’t the only one to notice Ionie. The Master also noticed her. He took a fancy to her and married her. She had yet to turn sixteen. By then we had declared our affections, but no matter what I said, or hinted or asked, his mind was made up.” Giles reached for her hand.
“I was wed against my wishes, but like Giles, my words and protestations had no effect. In Jamaica, the master’s word is law.” She sighed. “I was actually lucky.”
