Page 29 of To Treasure an Heiress
Would she still be Beth if she didn’t? Senara chuckled and reached up to cover the beloved arthritic fingers with her own. “Shall I play lady’s maid to her while I’m here? As an excuse to be around to rein her in?”
“Would you?” She padded over to the door and peered out through the open top half. “I haven’t even seen her this morning.”
“Master Oliver was mumbling at breakfast about her sailing through the fog to Gugh with Lord Sheridan.” Mam poured the batter in a buttered pan, careful to scrape all but a single swipe from the bowl.
She’d save that swipe for Senara—or whoever else lingered nearby with a ready finger to sample it.
“Ah. And Libby, Mabena, and Emily are back on St. Mary’s. I think I shall go and see if I can win a few words from Bram, then.” Mamm-wynn’s eyes twinkled as she turned back around. “Always a challenge before luncheon, I’ve found.”
Senara cracked another pea pod. Plunk, plunk, plunk. “Bram?”
“Lord Telford,” Mam supplied.
“Libby’s brother,” Mrs. Tremayne added.
Senara nodded. She’d spotted both young lords in the garden last evening but had walked the other way rather than draw near enough to have to explain her presence to them. She’d been introduced to gentlemen here and there over the years, but always as“Miss Dawe, our governess.”Words that served as a clear boundary, a clear explanation. Words that proved her respectable, honest, educated, and off-limits to anything but a cursory greeting if their paths crossed elsewhere.
She didn’t have that buffer anymore. That identity. Here, she wasn’t Miss Dawe, governess. She was just Senara. The housekeeper’s daughter. Sheller of peas and borrower of grandmothers.
It wouldn’t be enough to fill out the rest of her life. But until Rory came and made her Mrs. Smithfield, that was all she had.
And what if he didn’t come? Her fingers stilled on the next pod as the fear she’d tried so hard to hold at bay swept over her. Whatif he decided she wasn’t worth the loss of his position? What if it turned out she’d given up everything for nothing?
Warm, gentle fingers touched her cheek and brought her face back up from her bowl, in which direction it had dipped. Mrs. Tremayne looked deep into her eyes for a long, quiet moment. And then she whispered, “Sweet Senara. You are precious. Beloved by God. Cherished by us.”
Tears stung her eyes. How did she always know just the thing to say? “Thank you, Mamm-wynn.”
The lady leaned over and pressed paper-soft lips to her forehead, then walked away with another pat on her shoulder.
Mam let out a long breath after a longer moment. “I daresay Beth really could use your steadying hand.”
Senara sniffed, blinked away the emotion she wasn’t ready to be tangled up in, and forced a smile to her lips. Her hand didn’t feel particularly steadying just now—butshecould use Beth’s unbridled vigor. “Well. I plan to spend plenty of time with her anyway.”
Low laughter from outside interrupted, and a moment later, Henry Ainsley and Nicholas Collins—Lord Telford’s valet—let themselves into the kitchen with smiles and easy greetings. She and her parents had taken supper with them last night, along with Thomasina Briggs, Lady Emily’s maid, before they’d ventured to the pub. It had been rather crowded at the kitchen table, which had meant much laughter and joking and camaraderie. The sort she’d heard from the kitchens at Cliffenwelle but had never been a part of. Her place, even for meals, had been the nursery. On those rare occasions that the children dined with their parents, she was expected to join them there—never to speak or be noticed, just to be on hand to keep the girls in line and rush them away at the first sign of temper or tiredness. Always in a limbo between staff and family.
It had gotten lonely.
She’d spent the meal last night covertly watching Henry Ainsley, trying to place him. Not that she’d succeeded. The more she tried toidentify what made him familiar, the more she questioned whether he even was.
Her mother greeted the newcomers with a bright smile. “There you lads are. Success?”
Collins held up a brown paper bag, which must be testament to some errand they had run. “As you promised. Want some?” He grinned. “Telford will never know there’s any missing.”
Mam chuckled but shook her head. “I’ve never been one for toffee. But Mr. Dawe says Logan makes the best in England, and my husband’s sweet tooth can certainly be trusted.”
Collins grunted another laugh and tossed the bag on the table. “I’ve yet to meet anyone whose sweet tooth rivaled his lordship’s. I swear I’ve visited every sweet shop in the country for him.”
“Quite a hardship for you.” Ainsley smiled, too, and pulled out a chair at the table. He was the elder of the valets, clearly, but she couldn’t tell by how much. She guessed him to be in his mid-thirties, but Collins’s age was harder to pinpoint. With his round face and smooth skin, he could have been anywhere from twenty to thirty.
Collins peeked into the pan Mam was tapping the air from. “That smells good. Almond?”
“Mm. Our lady mentioned her brother favors it.”
“Along with any other cake. The true test...” He stole the mixing bowl from the workbench and ran a finger along that single line of batter. Made a happy noise. “It’ll do.”
Ainsley shook his head and reached for a few of the pea pods still awaiting their turn.
Senara’s eyes went wide. “Oh, you needn’t do that. I’ll be finished in no time.”
