At least she had been, up until last night, when Lucas Ashcombe walked back into her life.
And remembered she liked lilies of the valley.
A tap on the door interrupted her thoughts.
“Pardon me, my Lady. You have a visitor. Lady Beatrice Lockwood asks if you’re receiving this morning?”
“Oh lovely. Yes, I’d love to see Beatrice. Show her right in, Sprocket and we’ll have some tea and biscuits in an hour or so, shall we say?”
“Of course, my Lady.” The tickerkin trundled out.
Verity sighed in relief. Beatrice Lockwood was one of those women blessed with a rare gift—she always made those around her smile. And that’s just what was needed at this moment. Someone to take her mind off that damned Lucas Ashcombe.
*~~*~~*
The man himself was brooding. There was no other word for it, and Edgar made that quite plain.
“You’re brooding.”
“Men don’t brood.”
“Then kindly explain to me how you would describe a man sitting alone in a half-furnished room, staring at the fire? If that’s not the perfect definition of brooding, I don’t know what is.”
Lucas sighed. “I’m thinking, Edgar. I have some difficult decisions to make today. But they must be made, because they’re important.”
Edgar managed a shrug, although not a terribly effective one, since metal wings weren’t very flexible. “I could make you a cup of something then? Tea? I think there’s some coffee around as well? The grocer was very kind when he knew you were back, and pretty much filled the larder.”
Lucas shot his tickerkin an incredulous look. “Did he? Perhaps he ran out of eggs before he made his delivery, which would explain why I only had toast and marmalade for breakfast.”
“You like toast and marmalade.”
“It tastes even better with an omelette. Or scrambled eggs. And bacon. Let’s not forget bacon.”
A loud mechanical sigh greeted this somewhat acidic observation. “Well, if you’d said something...told me what you wanted for breakfast...” Aggrieved, Edgar lifted his beak. “After ten years, Mr Lucas, there are things in my memory banks that aren’t as fresh as they used to be, and kitchen chores are amongst them. I did, however,” he fluttered the tiny feathers on the tips of his wings, “remember that you liked very hot water in the mornings, for your shave. And I also remembered to warm your nightshirt last night.”
Sighing, Lucas nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Edgar. Yes, I suppose I am brooding.” He stretched his spine pushing his shoulders back as he did so.
“Can you tell mewhyyou’re brooding, Mr Lucas?” The question was presented in quiet tones.
“Silas.”
That one word, a name, brought Edgar to attention. “Lord Silas, Forge Master, hasn’t been up here for some time. He and Lady Dorothea visit now and again, but they’re committed to the health and welfare of the Forge itself, and the people who live there.” He paused. “He’s done good work, Mr Lucas. He changed the entire Warden program, and most think it was for the better.”
“I know. I don’t want to say I kept track of his doings, but I do hear news in Sectorvale.”
“So why the brooding?” Edgar paused. “Does it have anything to do with the reason you left?”
Lucas shot a glance at his tickerkin. “What would you know about any of that?”
“Enough.”
“Ahh.”
Silence fell for a few moments, as the fire crackled and burned in the hearth, throwing light on the man sitting in front of it.
“It wasn’t his fault.” Lucas spoke quietly, almost to himself. “I knew it then, and I know it now. But at the time?”
“Lady Ashcombe had just passed away, hadn’t she?”
