“She’s so nice,” Philip said to Imogen. “You’d like her. Everyone likes her.”
“I’m sure I would,” Imogen said gently, though her gaze drifted to the door through which Ellie had disappeared.
Morgan couldn’t shake the feeling that something had just shifted in the room. Something he couldn’t quite name.
After tea, as the afternoon sun began to slant through the windows, the boys reluctantly began gathering their belongingsunder Miss Winslow’s supervision. Morgan stood with Ambrose and Imogen in the entrance hall, watching as the final trunks were loaded into the carriage.
“Thank you again, Morgan,” Ambrose said, clasping his shoulder. “Truly. I know it was an imposition.”
“It was no imposition,” Morgan replied honestly. “The boys are delightful. You’re welcome to leave them with me anytime. Although… perhaps not too soon.”
Imogen smiled, but her expression was distant, thoughtful. Morgan wondered what she was thinking.
“Uncle Morgan!” Arthur’s voice called from the top of the stairs. “We’re ready!”
The boys descended the stairs, Miss Winslow following behind them. But before they reached the bottom, they suddenly veered off toward the servants’ hallway.
“Arthur! Philip!” Miss Winslow called. “Where are you going?”
“We have to say goodbye to Miss Ellie!” Philip shouted over his shoulder.
Morgan exchanged a glance with Ambrose, who looked both amused and bewildered. A moment later, the boys reappeared, dragging a startled Ellie by the hands.
“There you are!” Arthur said triumphantly.
Her face was pale, her hazel eyes wide with alarm. She tried to gently disentangle herself from the boys’ grip, but they held on tightly.
“Young masters, please,” she said softly. “I really must insist that?—”
“We’re leaving,” Philip said, his voice suddenly wobbling. “And we don’t know when we’ll see you again.”
Arthur’s lower lip jutted out in a pout. “Uncle Morgan, can’t Miss Ellie ride with us to London? Please?”
Morgan blinked. “I…I…”
“Please, Uncle Morgan!” Philip joined in, his eyes pleading. “We want her to come with us!”
Morgan noticed immediately that Ellie looked mortified at their words, as sweet and harmless as the children’s intentions were.
“That’s very kind, of you both, but it wouldn’t be appropriate. I am employed by His Grace and his household and… and I…”
Before she could finish, both boys threw their arms around her waist, hugging her tightly. Ellie’s hands hovered uncertainly fora moment before she gently placed them on their heads, her expression softening.
“Oh, you know I’ll miss you too,” she said finally. “But you’ll visit Kirkhammer House once His Grace is in London, I am sure. And when you do, I surely hope to see you again.”
“Promise?” Arthur asked, looking up at her with wide, hopeful eyes.
“I promise,” Ellie said, her voice thick.
The boys finally released her, though they looked thoroughly unhappy about it. Miss Winslow stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Ellie’s arm.
“Thank you, Miss Graham,” she said warmly. “For everything. You’ve been a godsend this month. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
“It was my pleasure, Miss Winslow. Truly,” she replied as her cheeks turned pink.
Morgan watched the two women exchanged a look, something unspoken passing between them. There was warmth there, a mutual respect that hadn’t existed a month ago. Miss Winslow smiled in kind, then gently ushered the boys toward the door. Ellie curtsied quickly to Morgan, Ambrose, and Imogen, then turned to leave.
As she moved toward the servants’ hallway, Morgan saw Imogen watching her once more, her gaze sharp. Assessing.
