“As if you didn’t know. I’ve seen Clara’s alphabet primer.”
“Ah, the allybet book.”
“Exactly. But then, you must have known I’d find it eventually. It was you who put it in the library, wasn’t it?”
Cody looked over his left shoulder, then his right. Finally he pointed to himself. “Me?”
Brandon attempted to give Cody a hard look, but he was in too fine a mood for anything threatening to come of it. “You. Miss Kilmartin seemed to think she left the book by the riverbank. She hadn’t the slightest idea how it came to be in the library. And you know yourself that Clara has been looking high and low for it these past few days. Why didn’t you give it over?”
“I’m not admitting to anything, you understand, but it did occur to me that you might be interested in Clara’s educational primer.”
“Anything in particular you thought I might want to see?”
“I found the B words fascinating,” Cody said with straight-faced innocence.
Brandon laughed. “You knew I’d hate that sketch she did of me.”
Cody shrugged, kicking his horse forward through the rows of plants. “The thought had crossed my mind. So your present mood is something of a puzzle. If you disliked the sketch, then why are you so happy?”
Brandon cut his mount away from Cody. “Check under the P words,” he called over his shoulder.
It was following dinner, when Clara and Shannon were out walking and Brandon was going over accounts in the library, that Cody decided to take his brother’s advice. With a curious sort of excitement he took the book from the nursery tea table and began leafing through it. He saw his own face staring back at him and admitted that Shannon had caught his cheeky grin precisely right. He knew because with his usual determination to do a thing right, he had spent many hours in his youth practicing in front of a mirror to get exactly that expression. Flipping ahead, he saw Liam from the stables, his brow furrowed in a single line, one eye slightly smaller than the other; Martha pursing her lips to one side in a way that meant she was humorously exasperated. Shannon had caught Ned, who worked in the fields, in an unguarded moment as he leaned on a hoe. Oplas, the cook, was wearing her kerchief and her gap-toothed smile.
And Papa. Cody whistled softly as he leaned forward to study the sketch. No wonder Brandon had looked so stupidly happy. With a few simple lines Shannon had shown she was seeing Brandon in a new light. The tender, indulgent smile that was so often in evidence when he looked at his daughter leaped out from the page. His eyes were soft, faintly amused, and one brow was arched in that skeptical manner that was peculiar to Brandon. Shannon had retained the sharp thrust of his chin, the fine line of his nose, giving Brandon the aura of control and decisiveness that was inherent in his nature.
Briefly Cody glanced back at Shannon’s original drawing. The most startling difference had to do less with the subject and more with the artist. Although the sketch was undoubtedly Brandon, Shannon had not come to terms with her own fears and had seen only harshness. In the second, the strokes of her pen were less bold, as if Shannon was not only no longer threatened, but she had found something to admire.
Cody shut the book. It was merely a matter of time, propinquity, and Brandon’s subtle efforts to erode Shannon’s reserve before Shannon perceived him as something less than an ogre and as something more than a parent. As Cody was leaving the nursery he wondered for the first time if this gradual turn of events was a good thing. The satisfied smile that had touched his mouth began to waver and finally fade. He descended the stairs slowly, thoughtfully, as he considered that in spite of his best attempts to play Cupid, there was one obstacle to Brandon’s future happiness over which he had no control: Aurora Fleming. Then again, perhaps there was something that could be done about Brandon’s wife. His mood and his step lightened considerably at the thought.
Cody was drawn to the verandah by the sounds of laughter he heard there. He stepped outside and the breeze floating up from the river immediately ruffled his hair. Habit demanded that he at least make an attempt to brush back the lock that fell over his forehead.
Shannon and Clara, unaware their privacy had been breached, were going through the motions of a country dance. The disparity in their sizes made the effort comical as Shannon tried to swing under Clara’s outstretched hands.
“I told you I would be no good at this, poppet,” said Shannon. “I know nothing about dancing.”
“Don’t stop,” Clara implored, picking up the tune Shannon had been humming.
Cody stepped out from the evening shadows. “Perhaps a change of partners is in order,” he suggested.
Cody’s presence startled Shannon, but he did not unnerve her the way his brother did. If it had not been for the difference in their social stations at that folly, something that Shannon had been raised to believe was an insurmountable gap, she would have counted Cody as a friend. At times such as now, Cody made it difficult to remember that she was merely an employee while he was the master’s brother.
“I think a change is exactly the thing,” she said, laughing a little. Giving Cody no chance to think better of it, she scooped Clara off the floor and placed her in Cody’s arms. Clara squealed delightedly at this maneuver while Cody saluted Shannon’s trickery with a wry grin.
“You must provide the music,” he said, not letting Shannon off the hook easily.
“The least I can do for the pleasure of watching a master dance.” She leaned back against one of the verandah pillars, crossing her arms in front of her, and began singing. It was a simple matter to forget where she was. In her mind’s eye Shannon could imagine the king’s court, the beautifully dressed ladies and lieges dancing for the pleasure of their lord. Caught in her musings, she was only peripherally aware that Cody had placed Clara on the floor and was drawing her into the dance. Shannon accepted his invitation without demur and found herself following his lead as naturally as if she had danced with him hundreds of times.
Brandon shoved aside his account books with an air of impatience. The laughter had been bad enough, but how was he to endure the siren-like enchantment of Shannon’s voice? He willed himself to remain in the library and knew a sense of weakness as he found himself walking down the hallway to the verandah anyway. Leaning against the open doorway, he watched Shannon and Cody move in graceful unison to Shannon’s lilting melody. He acknowledged how well they were suited even while he hated it. Shannon seemed to fit in Cody’s hands as if she belonged there. The ribbon at the nape of her neck had loosened, and her jet hair mingled with Cody’s as he guided her into an abandoned whirl. Shannon’s amused laughter set Brandon’s teeth on edge.
“Does one need an invitation to join this entertainment?” he asked, his tone edged with sarcasm.
Shannon faltered but Cody caught her and continued dancing as if nothing had happened. He seemed not to mind in the least that she was no longer singing. “Not at all,” he said breezily, turning Shannon directly in front of Brandon. “Would you care to join us? I’ve shamefully neglected Clara.”
Shannon had expected that if Brandon was to take part in their nonsense, he would do so with his daughter. Instead he stepped forward and put his hand on Cody’s shoulder. “Then I suggest you see to her,” he said.
Cody shrugged good-naturedly and made a slight bow to both Shannon and Brandon, then took up the child in his arms once again. Shannon could not meet Brandon’s gaze, choosing to pretend great interest in a point beyond his shoulder. Her hands fell uselessly to her side and her weight shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. Here he was, she thought, the most handsome of the king’s courtiers, and he wanted nothing to do with her. The dream of her youth shattered with painful finality.
“Excuse me,” she said, making to brush past him.
