Page 19 of The Lord Meets His Lady
“It’s getting late. I must take my leave, gentlemen.” Marcus begged off, humbled by their ready acceptance.
Any friend of their brother was a friend of theirs. Thickness clogged his throat. He backed away, unable to meet their honest faces. The ready hospitality…the easy smiles and camaraderie…the jar of salve in his pocket, a gift from Miss Turner for his hands… All were kindnesses he took for granted. Samuel’s steadfast love for his brothers outshone the gentle near poverty in which they lived. With that in mind, Marcus charged through the dining room. There was too much history, too much friendship with Samuel for ultimatums. He’d stop his foolish demand before more damage was done.
Ducking his head under the lintel, he stepped down into the orderly kitchen. A newly stoked fire blazed. Four buckets lined the wall by the water pump. At the far end, Samuel’s broad back filled Miss Turner’s doorway, their hushed conversation coming to a halt. Samuel glanced over his shoulder, and Marcus stopped in his tracks.
Samuel met him grim-faced in the middle of the kitchen. Marcus peered at Miss Turner’s room where a curved, feminine shadow marked the wall. A russet-clad arm reached out and shut the door.
Marcus frowned. “I’ve made a mess of things.”
“Yes, you have.”
“I’m willing to make this up to both of you.”
“I daresay you will,” Samuel ground out. “Two years we watched each other’s backs in the army. Never thought you’d put me over a barrel like this.”
Clean plates had been stacked on the table. Polished forks were lined in a neat row, the utensils poised to spear his self-serving heart. The organ weighed heavy when his friend pushed past him.
“Sam. Wait. I’ll apologize—”
“Don’t bother. Youwillmake amends.” Samuel stopped and put one hand on the doorframe. “To both of us.”
“Forget I ever made the suggestion.”
“Too late. You and I made a devil’s bargain. Now we live with it. Miss Abbott leaves with you tonight.”
