Page 27 of The Tempting of Thomas Carrick
When he said nothing more, she blotted the letter, folded it, and inscribed Marcus’s name on the front. There was no reason she could see to seal it. Rising, she held out the folded sheet.
Thomas closed his fingers on the paper just as the deepbongof the luncheon gong reverberated through the house.
For a second, he held Lucilla’s green gaze, then she released the letter. Sliding it into his pocket, he waved her to the door. “As you’re determined to stay, I’ll show you the way to the dining room. I’ll get this sent off before I join you.”
Smiling with a satisfaction that carried a definite hint of approval, she started up the room.
Patently thrilled at getting her own way.
Inwardly shaking his head—at her, at himself, at his unexpected predicament—he followed her to the door.
* * *
Luncheon was served in the formal dining room, although they were using only one end of the long table. The room was lined with wood paneling to head height; the higher reaches of the walls were plastered and painted, and played host to ornately framed landscapes interspersed with mounted stag and boar heads. The windows were lead paned and relatively small; even though the dark brown curtains were open, the illumination in the room was softly dim, as if shadows hovered about its edges.
Four places had been set, two on either side of the table, at the end closer to the door. Norris and Niniver were already seated opposite each other; Lucilla went to the place beside Norris, who stood and drew the chair out for her.
As she sat and settled the heavy skirts of her riding habit, she glanced across the table and saw Niniver watching her. The younger girl had caught her lower lip between her teeth. The expression in her cornflower-blue eyes was uncertain.
Norris resumed his seat.
Sensing his impatience, Lucilla said, “Thomas will be here shortly.”
Norris met her gaze, studied her for an instant, then nodded.
A moment later, Thomas appeared. Ferguson followed at his heels, bearing a soup tureen.
Once Thomas had taken the chair opposite Lucilla and they’d all been served and had started to eat, Norris glanced at Thomas. “I didn’t know you were coming down.”
Answering Norris’s unvoiced question, Thomas explained about the letter from Bradshaw, his meeting with Nigel and Nolan, and the subsequent letter from Forrester, which had brought him back to the estate.
Lucilla quietly ate her soup and listened as Thomas described what he had discovered at the Bradshaws’ and his ride to the Vale to ask for her aid. She detected no animosity between Thomas, Niniver, and Norris; if anything, both Niniver and Norris appeared to view Thomas’s arrival with a species of wary relief. Lucilla could sense the link between Niniver and Norris, the two youngest children, but their emotional ties to Thomas were significantly less, no doubt due to his recent absences compounded by the difference in age.
“Are the Bradshaws all right?”
Lucilla looked up at Niniver’s question and realized it was directed at her. “Yes. We discovered their well was tainted. Thomas fetched fresh water from the Forresters, and once we had that, I treated the Bradshaws. By the time we left, they were on the road to complete recovery.”
“The Forresters are there, looking after them.” Thomas set down his soup spoon.
A footman removed their soup plates while Ferguson laid platters containing a simple cold collation before them. They served themselves. As they settled to eat, Norris said, “So now we have both the Burns sisters unexpectedly dead, and if I have it correctly, both died on the same night.”
Thomas studied Norris. “Do you know anything pertinent about either death?”
Norris shook his head. “No—nothing. It wasn’t as if I knew them that well. Not as people.”
Lucilla placed Norris as being somewhere around twenty years old. He reminded her of several of her younger male cousins; he had the same unfortunate way with words. Despite how his last statement had sounded, she was certain he’d intended it merely as a statement of fact, rather than any reflection on the relative standing of young master of the house and the staff.
Bearing out her reading of Norris, Thomas accepted Norris’s comment with a noncommittal grunt.
A moment later, Norris ventured, “The one thing I don’t understand is why Faith went into the disused wing. No one’s been in there for years.”
Lucilla glanced at Thomas, then Niniver, but it seemed Norris’s puzzlement was shared by all.
When no one said anything further, she returned her gaze to Niniver. “How long was Joy Burns the clan’s healer?” She arched her brows. “Do you know?”
Niniver grimaced. “I can remember the healer before her, old Mrs. Edge.” Niniver glanced at Thomas. “You must remember her, too.” Looking back at Lucilla, Niniver went on, “Mrs. Edge retired and Joy took over as our main healer about fifteen years ago.”
“Was Joy Mrs. Edge’s apprentice?” Lucilla asked.
