Her mother gasped aloud. “Oh, my dear.What happened? This didn’t come from the ride up the road in the coach, did it?”
Roman had been so wrapped up in his outrage with Leonie he’d forgotten her bruises from her attack, or how they must look to his family.
“No,” Leonie said. “There was an incident on the road last night but all is well,” she stressed without offering further explanation. “You are my lord’s mother?” She offered her hand. Roman noticed that she’d carefully schooled the anger in her eyes. That would be saved for him.
His mother took the hand, covering it with her own. “You poor lass,” she said, instantly creating a bond for Leonie the way she did every creature on God’s earth. Roman had seen her nurse mice that lost their mother to health and birds that had broken wings. Of course her gentle soul would be moved by the bruises on Leonie’s face.
“It is behind us,” Leonie assured her, speaking like Lady Bountiful offering solace to the populace.
“I’m Roman’s stepfather.” David stepped forward. “Welcome to our family, my lady.”
Roman could swear Leonie managed a tear in her eye, and he didn’t know if it was real or some sort of elaborate performance for his benefit. “Thank you,” she said. “And please, this ‘my lady’ is all new to me and not meant for family. I’m Leonie.”
“And I will take pleasure in you calling me Father or David, my given name. Whatever you think best.”
As if on impulse, Leonie leaned forward to give him a quick hug.
“I’m your mother now, too,” his mother said. “Or you may call me Catherine. I have a salve that will work wonders on those bruises and that cut. Come with me in the house. We’ll have a glass of elderberry wine to wipe away the aches of the road.”
Roman almost said no to the elderberry wine but his mother had already taken Leonie’s hand and would have swept her away except for Dora’s stepping up.
“I’m ‘my lord’s’ sister.” She pulled a face at Roman as she said it. There was enough jealousy in Dora that she had to have a bit of fun with his title.
“The older or the younger?” Leonie asked.
“The younger.”
Leonie smiled and it was as if the sun had come out behind clouds. “I’ve never had a sister before but I have had very good female friends in London. I pray we can be as close.”
Roman couldn’t imagine anyone close to Dora. Her tongue was too sharp. However, he had to admit that Leonie’s speech was a pretty one, and he was confused even further.
Was she angry at him? And lying in wait until they were alone? Probably.
True to form, Dora replied, “Perhaps we shall.” Neither an agreement nor a rebuttal. Dora could be tricky.
“And I’m Lawrence. I’m married to Roman’s other sister, Elizabeth.”
“Do you live here as well?” Leonie asked.
“No, my lady—”
“Leonie,” she corrected him mildly, and smiled.
Even with bruises, Leonie had a power over men. It was innate to her. Roman had to marvel how just that simple interaction made Lawrence blush.
“Leonie,” he conceded. “We have a cottage in the village. I have the living of the parish.”
He spoke with pride. Roman knew how much having this position meant to his brother-in-law. Before, Lawrence had been rector of a mouse-poor church in the wilds of Scotland. He considered it a blessing to be back in England while pleasing his wife as well.
Of course, if he knew how mouse-poor Roman had been when he’d offered that living, he would have been shocked.
And that was the crux of the matter.
Roman had made commitments when he’d taken on the title. He had wanted his family around him, and now he had to make things right. That was what he did—he made things right.
“We live in a cottage, too,” his mother was telling Leonie. “Oh, it is a lovely place, snug and warm.”
Was it his imagination that Leonie’s gaze went to the caved-in wall?
