Lady Dallington’s amused voice came from behind them. “Oh, dear. I tell all my children that they are my favorite. A mother should not have a favorite child.”
Bennett went to kiss his mother on her cheek before asking her, “But if there was a scenario where you had to save one child from a bear attack, which one would it be?”
With a thoughtful look on her expression, Lady Dallington inquired, “What are the circumstances?”
“We are at the circus and a bear breaks loose from its restraints and it is headed straight for us. Certain death is imminent,” Bennett said. “Which child do you save?”
Lady Dallington smiled at Bennett. “Most assuredly, I would save you. You are my favorite, after all.”
Bennett gave Miles a smug look. “I told you- everyone loves me.”
Miles resisted the urge to chuckle. “Your mother is clearly lying to you. By her own admission, she has no favorite child.”
“Yes, but that is just to make the others feel better about themselves,” Bennett remarked. “Isn’t that right, Mother?”
Lady Dallington’s lips twitched. “Precisely, but it might be best if you don’t tell your brother and sisters that.”
As she finished speaking, Lord Dallington descended the stairs and joined them in the entry hall. “Shall we adjourn to the dining room?” he asked.
“Finally,” Bennett declared. “Trying to get you all to assemble is like trying to herd squirrels.”
“That is quite an interesting analogy,” Lady Dallington remarked. “Have you tried herding squirrels before?”
Bennett simply shrugged. “No, but it is a common expression.”
“I have never heard anyone say that before,” Miles insisted.
“Then, perhaps, you don’t associate with the right people,” Bennett retorted.
Miles let out an exasperated sigh. “Or maybe you are surrounded by idiots.”
“Says the person that is standing right next to me,” Bennett joked. “Who is the idiot now?”
Edwina laughed, the sound echoing through the entry hall. “I thought you were hungry, Bennett?”
“I am,” Bennett said, offering his arm to his cousin. “Allow me to escort you to the dining room.”
Miles trailed behind everyone as they made their way to the dining room. He wanted to hold on to his anger but his resolve was starting to slip away. And that thought troubled him more than he cared to admit.
Chapter Eight
Edwina descended the servants’ staircase, her footsteps light and careful as she made her way towards the bustling kitchen. The familiar scent of warm bread and roasting meat wafted through the air. She spotted the portly cook, the woman’s back to her, standing by the hearth and stirring something in a large pot.
On the counter next to her was a large basket, overflowing with an assortment of foods- fruits, cheeses and meats.
As Edwina reached for the basket, she asked, “Is this the basket for the Warrens?”
Mrs. Meek turned around and faced her with a smile “It is, my lady,” she replied. “Be sure to give them my regards.”
“I will,” Edwina said, slipping the handle of the basket onto her arm.
While Mrs. Meek wiped her hands on the apron that hung around her neck, she inquired, “How are you faring with Lord Dunsby’s house guest?”
This was the last thing that she wanted to talk about, but she couldn’t be rude to someone who had shown her kindness since she was a child.
Mustering up a smile, Edwina replied, “I am well. LordHilgrove is a pleasant enough man.” There. That much was true. If she was lucky, that would end this line of questioning.
But she wasn’t so lucky.
