Page 51 of Brave New Earl (The Way to a Lord's Heart 1)

“Because she was a woman, she must remain nameless, I suppose,” said Jean.

“What did she die of?” asked Geoffrey.

“It doesn’t say. Old age.”

“How old?”

“I don’t know, Geoffrey.” Jean set the book aside. “No wonder no one read to you,” she said to Lord Furness. “If this is a sample of your library.”

“You ought to see some of my father’s volumes about the American tribes.”

“And his collections,” added Lord Macklin. “Didn’t he have a scalp?” Then he pressed his lips together and glanced at Geoffrey.

“Old Jacob told me a better story,” said the boy. “It was about the ancient days. When the Black Death came, and nearly everybody died.” He gazed up at Jean like a bloodthirsty cherub. “They swelled up until they burst. Even their eyeballs.” The idea seemed to fill him with unholy glee.

“Who is Old Jacob?” asked Lord Furness.

“I told you not to talk to that dirty, old hermit,” Lily said to Geoffrey.

“Hermit?” said Lord Furness.

“He moved into a broken-down woodcutter’s hut,” added the maid apologetically. “He used to come begging to the kitchen sometimes. He’s gone now.”

“He died,” said Geoffrey. “Bradford found him, all stiff and cold.”

Lord Furness contemplated his son. “We really must do something about your obsession with mortality,” he said.

Geoffrey gazed back at him. If Jean had had to label the boy’s expression, she would have called it smug.

“The Duke of Hamilton hired a hermit for his estate,” said Lord Macklin.

“Hired?” repeated Jean.

“He said it was quite a difficult position to fill. He had to advertise.”

“You don’t say he paid somebody to act the hermit?” Tom asked.

The older man smiled. “How to separate the acting from reality in this case? The fellow was required to lurk in a stone grotto in ragged clothes and keep a long beard. I suppose the acting came in when he was exhibited to visitors.”

“Did he have to rave at them?” Tom asked. “That’d be a hard sort of job.”

“Do you think so?” answered Lord Macklin, looking both interested and amused.

Tom nodded. “What would you say, raving? What sort of…topics, like? The feller couldn’t just go on about the weather and such, could he? Likely this duke would expect somethin’ more entertaining.”

“A good point.” Lord Macklin shook his head. “I wish I knew the details of his…role, but I don’t.”

Geoffrey opened his mouth to speak.

“No, he did not die,” said Lord Macklin. “At least not so far as I am aware. Eventually, of course—” He let this sentence trail off.

Jean rose. “Goody Two-Shoesgoes back to the library.”

Lord Furness rose with her. When Lord Macklin stood, he went over to examine the wooden blocks and asked about the counting game the lads had been playing. They came to show him its intricacies. Jean waited a moment, but the older man showed no signs of departing. She was left to her host’s company once again.

“Well, that did not go well,” said Jean as she passed through the nursery door. She would talk about the book until she could escape him.

Benjamin walked beside her. He’d never been so acutely conscious of another person. The tiniest tilt of her head called out to him. He was entranced by the soft swish of her skirts. The feel of her was branded on his body. “Geoffrey seemed to enjoy himself,” he said.

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