The illusion shattered when she pushed a plate of pudding into his outstretched hand and Lady Marjory Caulfield, her face smeared with raspberry sauce, charged up to demand another plate for her new friend Jessica Kendrick.
“For Jessica or for you, Marj?” Maddy sighed.
Marj gave her a shifty-eyed squint, pretending not to have heard.
“Kindly ask your father if you can have more, Marj,” she added, peering over at David and catching his eye. He rose and took his daughter in hand.
“It’s past time we left for home,” the earl said. “Light is fading quickly.”
“Why can’t we stay at the Willow? Helen and Jessica are staying here,” Marj pleaded, bouncing on her toes.
“Because we have a perfectly fine home not three miles from here, and you need to sleep if you are to help Her Grace gather greenery for the dower house tomorrow.” David’s voice had a long-suffering tone, reminding Maddy that he found the whole business of hauling in branches nonsense to be tolerated only as a way to keep children busy. “You will see your new companions tomorrow.”
“But the Willow is jolly and full of friends.” Marj frowned at her father.
“You can’t fault that logic,” Brynn murmured, warming Maddy’s heart.
The earl ignored him. “Begin making your goodbyes, Marj, and don’t forget to thank Mr. Benson.” His smile held only a modicum of his perpetual sadness when he turned to Brynn. “I best do the same to Kendrick and your brother. I’ve urged Glenmoor to come with me to the hall, but we will see you again tomorrow, I am certain, Morgan.”
Brynn glanced at David’s retreating back before meeting Maddy’s gaze. “Will you stay at the Willow?” He frowned. “I understand Jessop has been sighted.”
Did he think her so weak that she had to hide in fear from a man who had never even threatened her?
“I am safe enough,” she said defensively. Still, her guests all stayed at the Willow. Brynn as well. Temptation seized her.
To be close to Brynn…
“Perhaps I—” Pride warred with longing for time alone with him. “Rob has already assigned Goodfellow to be my shadow, Brynn. Perhaps tomorrow.”
He studied her closely for several moments before balancing his plate in one hand and taking her free hand in his other. He raised it to his lips and placed a lingering kiss across her knuckles. “Tomorrow, then,” he said, returning to his seat with the men.
She gaped after him, torn among charging home alone defiantly, letting Goodfellow escort her home to satisfy David and Rob, and demanding a room—preferably the one next to Brynn Morgan’s.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Noise of ascuffle in the hallway woke Brynn from heated dreams of Madelyn the next morning well past dawn but early all the same. Irritable at the interruption, he dragged on trousers and stuffed a wrinkled shirt in his waistband, ignoring a coat in his rush to confront the noisemaker. He threw open the door and stepped out in stockinged feet to see Benson’s boy-of-all-work, a half-grown adolescent, on the heels of a disreputable-looking stranger who pounded on doors, shouting for the Duke of Glenmoor.
“Mr. Benson, tol’ you. There ain’t anybody here by that name!” the lad shouted back. “Get you downstairs.”
“Don’t try to bamboozle me. I seen him myself.”
Mr. Benson came up the stairs behind them. “He was here last evening, but the duke is staying at Clarion Hall.”
Glenmoor had accepted Clarion’s invitation at the last minute the previous evening. Madelyn had gone on to the dower house with them.
“He’s gone, Jessop—you are Isaiah Jessop, I presume,” Brynn said. “I suggest you go quietly before this lad and I have to help you to it.” His mind raced.This ass won’t give up until he talks to Kendrick. Maybe…Brynn heard steps behind him and glanced back to see Rhys.
“Not that London popinjay. The real duke!” Jessop raged. “I’ve bin watching th’ inn for two days. I recognized him. How many cripples are there in England twisted on one side like that? He’s here.”
Damn. So much for quelling rumors about the succession. Brynn tried a different tack. “Perhaps we should sit down and talk and see if we can sort out any misunderstandings over Mr. Benson’s excellent coffee and some breakfast.”
“I’ll see him. I’ll see him now and get what’s coming—”
A door opened, and Gideon Kendrick stood in shirtsleeves, glaring at his uncle from the door of his room. “Nothing, Isaiah. You have nothing coming. But if you would kindly stop terrorizing my children and inconveniencing these good people, I’ll finish dressing, and we can take Colonel Morgan’s suggestion that we talk.”
Jessop returned Kendrick’s implacable glare for a moment before a sly grin slowly blossomed on his craggy face. “So it is you. Knew I’d run you to ground.”
“Gentlemen, if I might suggest…,” Mr. Benson began.
