Page 13 of The Masked Baron
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“The name is Mr. Brennan. I hail from Thornton Way. I’m merely here to ask a few questions about Lord Cadogen, and then I’ll leave directly.”
Andalin studied the man and his average appearance. Nothing of her subconscious screamed for her to run or hide. And while she figured she was the least-informative person to answer the man’s enquiries, her curiosity got the better of her. “What sorts of questions?”
“Well, some of the townsmen got wind of a young lady staying at Braitwood Hall. Were you kidnapped, then?”
She didn’t like the idea of people talking about her. “No, Mr. Brennan, I was not kidnapped.”
“He takes a trip every full moon. Is it true he turns into a werewolf?”
Andalin smirked. “I hate to disappoint you, but if I have learned anything about Lord Cadogen since I arrived, it is that he is only a man.”
Mr. Brennan shrugged. “Perhaps you would know what is behind his mask?”
This man was impertinent. “Mr. Brennan, have you come here to squelch rumors or to ignite more?”
“Miss, Thornton is a flourishing town. Many of the established businessmen say it’s Lord Cadogen’s money that fuels it, but I have my doubts. It’s been a long spell since he did anything to benefit the place. We all know there are few left who are loyal to him. Anyone who still speaks of him with any shred of respect does it because they were friends with his parents, not because of anything Lord Cadogen has ever done. The real problem is he has only a few tenants even though he owns many parcels of land. He’s hoarding his lands, miss, and our town would be better off without him scaring everyone away.”
She could see through the young man now. It was clear he had a personal agenda. “You do not seek truth, Mr. Brennan. You seek to destroy a man who merely enjoys his privacy, for your own benefit. Now, I’ll ask you to leave this very minute and not come back again.”
The young man eyed her for a moment, and then, with a perturbed grunt, he turned and left. Andalin’s empowerment for managing the situation disappeared with the sting on her cheek, reminding her she had scratched herself. She picked a few more apples and then hauled them to the kitchen, where she could wash her face and begin cooking.
A thought came to her as she approached the door to go inside. She had stood up for Ellis! She had admitted to Brennan, as well as herself, that he was merely a man and deserved to have his privacy. She had always enjoyed a good story, and she had been no better than Brennan by spouting tales of the Dark Rider like the rest of the town circulators. This poor man had suffered some sort of tragedy and deserved sympathy. Ironic. Sympathy was the one thing she had demanded of Ellis not many nights previously but had been unwilling to give herself. While she still did not like him, she could now conclude she no longer despised him, though he had taken her father and her freedom—she was probably being too generous in her opinion of him.
Matilda, the cook and oldest occupant of Braitwood, was already in the kitchen preparing for the next meal when Andalin entered. Matilda was Andalin’s favorite to visit with, although Mrs. Lewis had said in one of her lady lessons that consorting with the servants was most improper.
“Land’s sake, child! What did ye do to yer face?”
Andalin lifted a hand to her cheek. “’Tis only a little scratch from a branch.”
Matilda plucked up a clean napkin and blotted Andalin’s face. “His lordship will be outraged when he hears of this. Ye’d better hope it heals by the time he returns.”
Andalin wondered if such a concern could stem from Ellis’s scars. “Really, Matilda. I was just a little clumsy.”
Matilda shook her head when she saw the basketful of apples. “And working too! We’ll all be put to shame when we tell him.”
“Honestly, there is no reason for Lord Cadogen to know how I spend every minute of my day. Besides, the fruit is being put to waste, and I thought I could make an apple pie for dessert tonight.”
Matilda set her napkin down. Her wrinkled eyes were full of kindness as she shook her head again. “Miss, ye are his lordship’s ward now. That means ye must live the life of a lady. Ye will have responsibilities, but they’ll be different from the ones ye had before ye came here.”
Andalin sat down on the same kitchen stool she had occupied when she shared a sandwich with Ellis. “Tell me, then, what sort of responsibilities do I have? It seems all I do is let others wait on me. I’m useless to everyone.”
Matilda took the apples and began to wash and peel them. “Well, after ye have become accustomed to the ways of a lady, then ye will be introduced into Society. A husband will be found for ye, and then ye will have the responsibility of running a house. There will be social engagements, picking the menu, charity baskets—all sorts of duties.”
This was a battle Andalin could not win, but she couldn’t help pressing just the same. “Until I am married, can I help in the kitchen?”
Matilda laughed, making her wrinkles press together. “What about sewing? That is befitting a lady.”
Andalin frowned. “Sewing is one thing, but needlework is another. It seems all real sewing duties have been taken from me.”
Matilda tapped her chin. “I have an idea. Mrs. Lewis’s husband bought some handkerchiefs the other day for the master. Ye can monogram them for me. My hands are too shaky to make fine stitches anymore, and Hannah and Mrs. Lewis are up to their ears in housework.”
Andalin sighed. “Certainly. It’ll distract me for a day or so. For now, I could make the pie crusts while you cut the apples.”
Matilda shook her head. “A lady instructs, but she does not bake.”
Andalin folded her arms in exasperation. “Very well. You win.” Her eyes drifted to the small kitchen window, and thoughts of her conversation with Mr. Brennan came to mind. “Can you tell me something I’ve been wondering about? Where does Lord Cadogen go when he leaves here?”
