Fletch did not normally hold chairs for anyone.
“Reynard says he can make it work well enough for a casual entertainment.” He passed the pie without taking half of it first.
He really wanted them out of the house on Saturday, Kate concluded. “How’s your shoulder?” she asked, diverting the conversation until she could work through its implications.
He was definitely favoring that side, passing the heavy pie with his uninjured right. He’d slipped the sling back on as well, giving him a truly rakish air. Stupid fool of a man.
“It works,” he said curtly, more like his usual self.
“I heard Lavender is testing her employees to see who will be working with you in the shop,” Brydie said brightly, filling the silence. “Has she chosen anyone?”
“So far, only Odila and Vivien have filled out an application. Other than Mrs. Young, most of the older women can’t read or write, much less do simple numbers.” Kate savored the pie while keeping a wary eye on Fletch and Brydie. Her sister knew something. “Mrs. Young didn’t grow up here.”
“Verity had hoped to hold a school for adults.” Brydie helped herself to more greens, stacking them on her pie. “But now that she has her wards, she simply doesn’t have the time.”
“We should talk with the ladies at the manor. If we could arrange a rotation of teachers, one night a week. . .” Kate doubted that would help but classes ought to be offered.
“Men won’t take lessons from women,” Fletch declared.
He was most likely right. “I’ll talk to the Huntleys.” Refusing to give up, Kate dropped the subject and made him reach for the pie without her aid.
He didn’t even notice. Perhaps she ought to kick him under the table. Would he notice that? And why did she want him to pay attention to her? Fletch was Fletch and just because he behaved with a modicum of civility for Brydie didn’t mean she might expect it to continue. Evidently, he wanted something from Brydie. What?
After supper, he went out to put up the horses, and her sister offered to clean the kitchen, while Kate helped the children with their homework and put them to bed.
After she’d carried out those tasks, Kate took the opportunity for a quiet moment. Sitting in her room finishing a hem, she heard the kitchen door slam but no voices. Odd. Brydie wasn’t exactly the silent sort.
She peered out the upper window and saw her tall, curvaceous sister leaning against the fence, holding a broom, in deep, quiet discussion with the major, a man who never put three words together if it could be avoided.
Damien was a good man and husband. If Fletch thought he could dally with her sister. . .
She just might shoot him.
WEDNESDAY
April 10, 1816
Twenty-eight
Fletch
That night, after everyone had retired, Fletch found saddle blankets and prepared a bed on a stack of straw. He ought to go across the lane and tell those fribbles to post a guard all night and shoot at first sight?—
The popinjays probably wouldn’t hesitate to target practice at midnight, but Rafe might object to dead bodies. Damnation.
If he left the barn doors slightly open, Kate’s hen house was almost in sight. He should have brought Rafe’s wolfhound with him. If Fletch had a place like this, he’d own a pack of hounds. . .
He’d never have a place like this. Once all the lights went out in the house, he settled into his new bed and slept with his weapons in reach. War had taught him to sleep with one eye open.
No lunatic disturbed him until an ungodly hour before dawn, when he heard Brydie let herself out of the house. Since he’d slept in his clothes, he was on his feet in an instant. He hadn’t forgotten that she was the village baker and had to start her ov ens. His former mistress had taught him a baker’s hours.
He led the pony from the barn and was hitching it to the cart before she realized he was out here.
“What are you doing?” She petted the old pony. “I can walk. It’s less than two miles across the field.”
“With a lunatic behind every bush, for all we know. Damien would shoot me if he knew I let you walk alone.” He hadn’t had to explain his actions so much since he was a youngster at home. Women simply demanded explanations with their existence. Men understood without need of talk.
“You’ll leave Kate unguarded.” Brydie didn’t look happy that he meant to do something responsible for a change.
