Page 14 of Meet A Rogue At Midnight
“And shamed my mother.”
“She eventually won them over,” was the best the old man could give.
Jonas eyed his grandfather under the brim of his hat. “A thing she shouldneverhave had to do.”
The village’s cool, dismissive matrons had cut the deepest. Women were cruelest to other women. His mother bore the shunning with a stiff spine, but sometimes he’d find her teary-eyed in a quiet corner at home. His boyish arms around her was the only cure he could give.
The family had borne the brunt of ridicule until the town’s folk moved on to better gossip. Eventually, the hardest hearts melted under Jacob’s charm, a thing Jonas didn’t possess. He was the twin to stand stoically aside while his brother won Plumtree’s hearts with wit and undeniable friendliness. It came in handy when they got into scrapes such as freeing Farmer Watson’s prize-winning pig…and then chasing the sow through the village, sliding through muddy roads, their antics splashing mud on pedestrians.
Later, Braithwaite handsomeness served a purpose. Tavern wenches and merchant’s daughters threw themselves at Jacob and Jonas. Conversation wasn’t required when a pretty girl did all the talking. None truly noticed thepersonJonas was. None, that is, except for lank-limbed Livvy Halsey, as ready for a day of fishing as she was to climb trees and catch frogs.
Her pert smile and saucy tongue had been a sylph-like memory all these years since he’d left, a comfort in lonely days at sea. Those were the times a man saw the deepest nooks and crannies of his soul. One face appeared often when he stared at wide open water.
Livvy Halsey.
When it came to pretty Elspeth, he couldn’t recall her features with nearly the same vividness as Livvy’s—Plumtree’s best and brightest spot.
Funny that.
“Plumtree has changed since you left. At least consider the merits of reacquainting yourself with the district,” the Captain said, a slow smile creasing his face. “Give the fair young women here a chance. There are many festivities planned from now until Twelfth Night.”
Jonas’s hand curled tighter on the satchel. “I’m not long for Plumtree, sir.” He tipped his head at the Captain. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I promised to assist the Halseys in repairing a chair.”
They strolled to the workshop’s open door with Jonas slowing his step in deference to his grandfather. They walked together into morning sunshine, and Jonas shut the door after them.
“For all your protests of leaving Plumtree, you haven’t said what you want me to do with your inheritance,” the Captain said to Jonas’s back. “This land, the cottage, the shop…it will be yours.”
Jonas latched a rusted lock on the door. “What about Jacob? Doesn’t he want it?”
“He’s a solicitor, not a furniture maker. Working with wood is not in his blood.”
“And you think it’s in mine?”
The Captain leaned both hands on his cane, his blue eyes twinkling on the satchel bulging with tools. “Something’s got your blood stirring.”
Jonas ignored the quip and dug the shop’s key from his pocket. “Here.”
“Keep it. You may need more tools in this endeavor of yours with the Halseys.” The Captain struck out for the cottage.
Jonas dropped the iron key back in his pocket. “Please let Mrs. Addington know I’ll be on time for dinner.”
The Captain paused, his snowy white beard showing as he angled his face to the Halsey Tower. “I will.”
The old man trekked on, his footfalls and the cane a quiet plod on snow and gravel. Jonas’s heart squeezed at his grandfather’s aged amble. Once powerful shoulders stooped. The old man had borne the weight of family, providing for him and his brother and mother. Never once did his grandfather say a recriminating word to his daughter for bearing sons out of wedlock. If he did, Jonas had never heard it.
The proud head, once thick with Braithwaite black hair, was pure white, tied in a small queue brushing his coat collar.
The Captain had given his all for his family.
And none would be here to comfort him in his final years.
Jonas waited for the Captain to get safely inside before making his way to the orchard. Sun poured down on Plumtree. He squinted at a blinding white world of snow, save the bare, tangled branches of the Braithwaite orchard. Sunlight glittered on the diamond panes of Halsey Tower’s window. Was Livvy already there?
She was a balm to his soul. Sweet yet saucy. Even her sudden kiss yesterday blended the best parts of her, soft lips, curious and knowing at the same time. He should’ve wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back, but she was off him in a trice, embarrassed. He’d wanted to let her recover and try again, but Livvy fidgeted against her desk, pouring out bigger and more important things like family secrets.
Kissing would have to wait.
He trudged up the meadow to her tower, his mouth pulling a grim line. Who had taught Livvy how to kiss? One of Farmer Watson’s sons? A laborer on her father’s excavations? Or another antiquarian? Probably a man university educated and smart. His boots sunk in a deep pocket of snow.
