The thought of Maitland struggling with a drunken Billy goat brought a smile to Thomas’ lips. In fact, he chuckled. “I would have liked to have seen that.”
Desmond waved him off. “You will not have the chance,” he said. “Mae discharged Queenie, so no more ale. Now Tibelda is doing all of the cooking and the children are also learning how to do for themselves. Mae has them learning all kinds of things now.”
As Desmond rattled off all of the skills his sister was teaching the foundlings, which was mostly milking the goats andlearning to make cheese at this point, Thomas’ thoughts drifted to Maitland herself. Not the children, not the drunken cook…Maitland.
He couldn’t help it.
He’d spent the past week trying desperately not to think of her and feeling jealous of Desmond every time the man left for Edenside, which had been daily. He’d wanted to go with him, but his parents were still at Wark and he was genuinely trying to please them by doing his duty. Going off to see the woman who had his attention, the woman he very much wanted to be with, would not have pleased them.
But, God, he just couldn’t shake her.
And it was only getting worse.
“And the tower?” he asked, pretending to pick at his horse’s mane. “Is it repaired?”
Desmond nodded. “You would not recognize it,” he said. “Mae and Tibelda scrubbed it from top to bottom, and the carpenters reinforced the entry door and built beds for the children. Mae has the girls in one chamber and the boys in another, downstairs. Mae and Tibelda sleep upstairs with the girls, but the children all have their own beds. And the fabric your mother sent a few days ago has already been put to use– now all of the children have warm clothing from that big roll of fabric your mother sent, the one of blue wool.”
Thomas snorted. “She told me about it,” he said. “That very fabric has been at Castle Questing for a very long time. My father will not wear the color, nor will any of my sisters or any of the grandchildren wear it because it is stiff and smelly, if it is the same stuff I am thinking of. It has been in her solar for as long as I can recall.”
Desmond grinned. “You are not going to believe this, but Mae soaked that fabric in vinegar and now not only does it not smell, but it is soft,” he said. “The children all have comfortablenew tunics to wear. You should see how much better they look. Truly, Mae has worked wonders with those little waifs. Even Artus, who still insists on being called Wrath, is coming around. He is not nearly so hostile.”
It was increasingly difficult for Thomas to focus on what he was doing. He could just picture those children, happy with their new tunics that Mae had made for them. It sounded as if she had been very busy. He wondered if she had thought about him, just a little.
God, he hoped so.
“And the coinage I sent with you a few days ago?” he asked. “What has she done with it?”
Desmond sat back against the stable wall. “I went with her into Kelso on Market Day,” he said. “We purchased all manner of food stuffs– flour, grain, dried carrots, beans and peas, mostly stuff that was dried and will keep for months on end. But she also bought some fresh food, like quince and lemon. You know you cannot get them too readily this far north. Mae is very good at negotiating with the farmers and she purchased quite a bit for what you sent her. It should keep the children fed for months to come.”
Thomas slapped the horse affectionately on the neck, appearing casual about the conversation when the truth was that it was consuming everything about him right now. He could hardly think straight for thoughts of Maitland.
“And your sister?” he asked the question he’d been dying to ask. “How does she seem these days?”
Desmond nodded. “Well,” he said. “She is doing what she was born to do. She did tell me to thank you for the money you sent her.”
Thomas was moving around to the front of his horse. “There is more where that came from.”
“She asks about you every time I see her. She wants to know how you are doing with Adelaide.”
Thomas glanced at him. “What do you tell her?”
“That you are miserable but you are doing your duty.”
Thomas’ gaze lingered on him for a moment before he growled and dropped his hand from his horse. He could no longer pretend that he was casual about this conversation. With a grunt, he ended up slumping back against the wall of the stable.
“My duty,” he muttered. “I hate this duty. More than anything I have ever hated in my life.”
Desmond’s good humor faded. “I know,” he said. “No one blames you.”
Thomas looked at him, then. “I told Mae once that I was going to punch you in the face for not introducing us sooner,” he said. “You cannot know the times I have wanted to follow through with that threat.”
Desmond’s eyebrows lifted. “Me? Why is this my fault?”
Thomas tossed the comb in his hand aside. “Because I would have married your sister, you dolt,” he said. “Have you not figured this out yet, Des? Your sister… if there was no Adelaide, I would have married her the day I met her. I think she is the best thing I have ever known.”
Desmond watched him for a moment. “She is,” he said, his voice suddenly low and none too friendly. “She has been through a good deal, Thomas. You know this. I hope you have sense enough to stay away from her because I will not allow her to fall victim to your unhappiness.”
Thomas’ eyes narrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”
