“How much longer will the Marchands be staying?” she asked.
“I’m not certain. Why do you ask?” When she did not answer immediately, Brandon frowned, putting his own meaning to their silence. “Shannon, when the Marchands leave, it will, not be the end to us. Don’t imagine that it will be so.”
Shannon glanced up at his stern profile in surprise. She pushed back a lock of corn silk hair that had fallen across his forehead. “I wasn’t thinking any such thing. I was wondering how long I might have the convenience of sharing the room next to yours.”
Brandon grinned crookedly, relieved that she was not entertaining notions of leaving him. “There’s no reason for you to move into another bedchamber after Paul and Michaeline go.”
“There’s every reason,” she informed him quietly. “I must take the room next to the nursery, else everyone will suspect.”
“None of the servants would dare say anything.”
“Perhaps not, but they will treat me differently. It’s taken me too long to overcome the handicap of my appearance to lose their respect now. And there is the matter of Cody and Clara.”
“If you think Cody would make any objection, you are certainly in the wrong of it. He’s done everything but unlock that damn door himself. As for Clara, she’s too young for this to be of any consequence.”
Shannon shook her head. “You may know your brother, but you have much to learn about your daughter. She and I were in your room one day, looking for her allybet book. She pointed to this bed and told me she once slept with her mama and papa here. Then she asked me very seriously who I slept with.” She paused while Brandon chuckled. “She sees much more than any one of us give her credit for.”
“I don’t care for the image of you creeping into my room at night.”
“I don’t care for it either,” she admitted. “Which is why I wondered how long the Marchands would be staying.”
Brandon didn’t answer her, caught in a bind of his own making. It was too dangerous for Paul and his wife to spend more than a few weeks with them, yet he wanted Shannon to remain at his side with the openness she was permitted in her guise as Aurora. He leaned across her and snuffed out the candles, lying awake in the dark long after Shannon had fallen asleep.
It was late morning before Shannon stirred again. She was in her own bedchamber, and the door to Brandon’s room was closed. She had a faint memory of Brandon carrying her to bed just as dawn was lighting the sky. He had kissed her forehead and touched her mouth with his fingertip. He was gone before she could reach for him.
Shannon sat up, stretching. The key to the connecting door was lying on the top of her dresser. She smiled as a narrow ray of sunlight touched the key and it gleamed. Obviously Brandon had polished it. Dear, sweet man.
Laughing for no reason that she could think of except that she was very,veryhappy, Shannon bounded out of bed. Brandon would be in the fields now, and she went to the window to see if she could catch sight of him. The workers were out in force now, cutting down the plants that had been topped off more than a month ago. The long leaves lay where they were struck down. Later, after they had wilted to limpness, all the hands, women and children included, would carry them to the open sheds, where they would be hung to cure. The harvesting had already progressed to acres of land beyond her vision. Somewhere out there was Brandon, and it was enough for now to know that.
Shannon joined Michaeline in the small family dining room, where breakfast was usually served. It was the first time she had shared a meal alone with either of the Marchands. Usually she ate much earlier with Brandon, Cody, and Paul. Clara still took her breakfast in the nursery with Addie, while Michaeline rarely rose before ten. She schooled her features carefully, not wanting to show her disappointment that she was not able to relax her guard.
“Good morning, Mama,” Shannon said brightly, lifting the covers of several dishes on the sideboard.
Michaeline replied in kind. “I thought you were having a lie-in when Martha told me you were not up yet.”
“No, nothing like that, I was merely tired. Are the hotcakes good?”
“Delicious.” Her eyes danced as she observed Shannon filling her plate. “You do not often eat so much, do you?”
Shannon stared at her heavy plate in dismay, and because she knew the reason for her appetite, she blushed, having the sinking feeling that it was not something Aurora would do.
“You should, you know,” Michaeline went on. “You’re far too thin. Your father thinks so, too.”
“I’ll do better, Mama.” She kissed Michaeline’s raised cheek before she sat down next to her. “I promise.” Shannon’s first bite of eggs stuck in her throat when Michaeline looked at her oddly.
“You’ve changed, Aurora,” she said thoughtfully.
Shannon swallowed and attempted to smile. “Everyone changes, Mama. I suppose you see it more clearly because we’ve been apart so long.” She touched the gauzy cuff of Michaeline’s blue linen dress. “We shouldn’t let it happen again.”
Michaeline looked down at Shannon’s hand resting on her arm. “No, we shouldn’t,” she agreed absently.
Shannon’s attempt at eating after that exchange was merely for form. Nothing went down her throat without difficulty. After a while she gave up and pushed her plate away. “I wasn’t so hungry after all,” she explained when Michaeline observed her action. Her confidence sagged even further when she realized Michaeline had done little justice to her own meal, appearing to have merely rearranged its contents on her plate. Shannon felt she had no choice but to rush her fences. “Is something wrong, Mama? Don’t you feel well?”
The lace trim on Michaeline’s sheer white lawn mobcap fluttered a little when she suddenly turned to Shannon. Her face was set determinedly, as if she were mounting her courage.
Why, Shannon thought in amazement, she’s afraid of Aurora. She’s afraid of her own daughter. Her heart went out to Michaeline.
“We must discuss the last visit your father and I made to the folly,” she said firmly. “I was certain you would mention it, and I promised your father that I would say nothing until you did, but I can no longer go on wondering what you overheard Paul and me saying the day before we left.”
