“As is your mother?”
“Aye.”
“What of any other siblings, uncles, aunts or grandparents?” Before he considered anything further, Henry needed to know that she was very much alone in this world since clearly there was little familial feeling from the brother who had wagered her, much to Henry’s disgust.
For a moment, Miss Doyle hesitated. Was there someone else or was she going to lie to him…“The truth, Miss Doyle. I can have you investigated.” She’d need to understand that they must be quite honest with one another or the circumstances they now found themselves in would never work.
“I’ve an older sister.”
“Where might this sister be?”
“Cornwall.”
“Is she married. Might her husband take you in?”
Her green eyes widened. “Nay. Cait’s a teacher and can’t have me about.”
Henry couldn’t imagine anyone hiring someone of Miss Doyle’s ilk to teach anything. “A teacher?”
“Aye. And lives at Wiggons’ School for Elegant Young Ladies so I can’t go ta her.”
Surely, she jests? Henry was familiar with the school, not personally but by reputation, and if this sister spoke as Miss Doyle, she’d not have been hired. “Are you telling me the truth?” There was a warning edge to his tone. “Are you certain she isn’t a scullery maid instead?”
“Aye. I swear.” She made an “X” over her heart.
We’ll he’d soon determine the truth of the matter as he’d write to Westbrook right away since his estate happened to be in the same vicinity as that particular school. But, as he wouldn’t have an answer for days, Henry supposed he was stuck with Miss Doyle.
Henry turned to his housekeeper. “Are you satisfied, Mrs. Peade?”
Most gentlemen of his rank, or any rank for that matter, wouldn’t tolerate a housekeeper questioning any decision, but Mrs. Peade was different and Henry came to value her opinion on many matters. In short, she was irreplaceable and why he not only asked her opinion on occasion, but tolerated her questioning his judgment as well.
“Yes, Lord Kilsyth,” she finally answered.
Yet, Henry could tell she did not approve. Well, there were often times that Mrs. Peade did not approve and they still got on.
“What is ta be me purpose?” Eve asked, her tone low.
Henry studied her. “You are to be my ward.”
Her green eyes met his. Miss Doyle was really a lovely miss with her blond hair and porcelain skin.
“Why are you in England, London for that matter, when you’re clearly from Cork?”
Her eyes widened further. “How do ye know where I’m from?”
“It’s announced with every syllable you utter and by the letters you ignore.”
Miss Doyle pulled back and frowned.
“Now, answer my question. Why aren’t you in Ireland where your speech is not offensive to the ear?”
“Come, come, Kilsyth. That is no way to speak to Miss Doyle,” Pickmore defended.
“She’s my ward. I’ll speak to her how I’d like.”
At that, Miss Doyle gasped. “I’ll not be treated poorly by the likes of ye.”
“You! Miss Doyle. The word isyounot ye.”
