“Well said,” Miss Keyes asserted. “Speaking of which, Cook has set out everything necessary to break your fast.” Mrs. Keyes bowed her gray head respectfully, then gestured toward the hall.
Samantha noted how Lucas stood, then tugged on his coat. His gaze went to Liliah, and he offered his elbow and arched a brow questioningly.
Liliah’s lips pursed, but she placed her hand on his arm, then straightened her spine and followed him to the door.
Samantha bit back a grin, then cast her gaze toward Heathcliff.
His eyes were amused, and he arched a brow as he turned to her, offering his arm.
Samantha gave an accepting smile and waited for him to approach, knowing Iris was certainly putting two and two together at that gesture.
He offered his arm, his shoulders impossibly broad and his frame making her, not for the first time, seem delicate and small as she reached out and placed her hand on his sleeve. Such a sense of rightness, of home, washed over her. She glanced up, watching as Iris’s eyes darted from the viscount, to her, to their arms, then back to Samantha. Her expression was a perfect question mark, eyebrows slightly raised, her lips in an O, just the right amount of confusion in her gaze.
“I’ll explain later,” Samantha said softly.
Heathcliff paused, and she looked up to see him raise a knowing brow.
Samantha bumped him just a little with her elbow, earning a wide grin.
“Is that the way of it, then?” he asked, leading them toward the hall.
Samantha replied archly, “Would you expect any less?”
“No. Nor would I wish it,” he murmured, making her feel warm and soft inside. Who knew that words could hold such power?
The sideboard was loaded with a feast for breaking their fast. The cook at Kilmarin had always set a generous table, but it was as if this morning was an attempt to test the integrity of the table’s ability to hold weight. Rashers of bacon were piled high on several white plates, and thick, fat sausage links had been fried to a golden plumpness, rising in pyramids on other platters. The coddled eggs were steaming hot, as were several slices of ham, a nice brown crust over the outside from being pan fried.
Samantha hadn’t realized how hungry she was, and she was quite certain the others were as well as their breakfast party descended upon the spread like locusts. This was one time she wasn’t about to offer insight or correction on a meal. Part of wisdom was knowing when and where it should be used.
And amongst the hungry and emotionally charged was not the time or place.
The gentlemen allowed the ladies to travel through the line first, and Samantha bit back a grin when Liliah selected one piece of toast, then another, and then muttered something under her breath and applied a thick layer of strawberry jam to each.
Samantha followed her sister’s example and anticipated the delights of breakfast as she filled her plate and then took a seat at the table.
The men’s plates were loaded down with the weight of the food they’d selected. Samantha expected Heathcliff was probably hungry in the same way a bear is after hibernation. He’d had quite the evening, and fisticuffs no less.
Their breakfast party was silent, with no one offering any anecdotes to launch conversations, simply a few groans of appreciation and the rustling of napkins being used.
Mrs. Keyes soon served tea, and Samantha inhaled the rich steam with great appreciation.
Mrs. Keyes glanced over to the sideboard, and Samantha noted the way her eyes widened with astonishment, but she didn’t offer any remark.
After several minutes, Samantha glanced at Iris, who was watching as she politely ate her food, exceeding all the others in her manners.
It was quite monumental, Samantha decided. It was always rewarding when a teacher saw her lessons bear fruit in her pupil.
Samantha licked the corner of her mouth, tasting a sweet, tart hint of jam.
Iris was certainly surpassingherat the moment in manners.
It was amusing, and Samantha let out a little chuckle.
Heathcliff’s gaze darted up, and he arched a brow, then glanced around the table. His grin widened. “We do appear to be a pack of wolves, do we not?”
Iris giggled behind her napkin. “A bit.”
Samantha shared a knowing smile with Heathcliff, then turned to her sister.
