Page 8 of Tempting the Earl

“Come on, I’ll show you the house now.”

Following the girl across the kitchen, Colin allowed himself a glance toward Miss Morgan as he came near her position at the large iron stove. Steam from the large pot had curled the tendrils of dark auburn hair that framed her face and rested against her neck. Though she seemed intent and determined not to acknowledge him, he noted how she held her breath as he passed.

He also noticed he’d been right about the freckles.

Chapter Four

There was nothing particularly grand about the old country cottage—in fact, it was rather modest—but it was undeniably a home. Every room they visited, perhaps with the exception of the formal parlor, had a look of being lived in and loved.

So very different from the houses in which he’d grown up, where any sign of life was quickly swept away by the many servants on hand.

The sitting room had books and pillows tossed about. Unfinished embroidery looked like it had been set aside just that morning. Drawings of birds and insects were strewn about the tea table. A corner room overlooking the riotous flower garden was crammed full with bookshelves, two desks that had been positioned to face each other, a pianoforte, a violin, and several wind instruments. The dining room was rather small for formal dinners, but Colin suspected the ladies of the house did not entertain often, if at all, and he’d have wagered on that being entirely by choice.

The young Miss Claybourne explained that an elderly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Norris, resided at the house and helped to manage the place, but they both happened to be away for the day. Even with a staff of two, it was clear Miss Morgan preferred to handle much of the household duties herself, including most of the cooking, managing the household accounts, and filling the role of governess. For her part, Caillie had the responsibility of caring for the chickens, their only horse, Roy, and Bramble, of course, as well as helping Miss Morgan in the kitchen garden as needed.

By the time the tour brought them back around to the kitchen, an odd feeling had settled in Colin’s chest. A hard point of pressure had formed and was steadily growing. There was no denying his sister was being well cared for. She was obviously happy. She clearly adored Miss Morgan and Mr. and Mrs. Norris. Every moment he spent with her, he became more and more aware of her natural intelligence and maturity. There were times he’d nearly forgotten he was talking to an eleven-year-old child.

And although he was grateful her well-being had been assured all these years while he’d been kept in the dark about her existence, he couldn’t ignore how his sudden appearance was likely to disrupt her life. He could only hope it proved to be a positive disruption.

As he followed Caillie into the kitchen, the savory scents filling the air made his stomach rumble.

Miss Morgan looked up from where she was setting a stack of bowls on the large, rough-hewn table in the center of the room. “Our meals tend to be rather informal here at Faeglen,” she noted without preamble. “I hope you’ve no aversion to eating in the kitchen.”

He heard the distinct note of challenge in her tone and though her animosity was starting to get a bit tedious, his manners were far too deeply ingrained to reply with anything but gracious courtesy. “Not at all, Miss Morgan.”

“Have a seat,” she said with a nod toward one of the stools set around the table before turning to address her ward. “Fetch some glasses from the cupboard, please, Caillie, and the pitcher of lemonade I made this morning.” The woman’s green gaze swung back to Colin. “Unless you’d prefer wine? We might have something in the cellar, but I cannae attest to its quality.”

“The lemonade will be fine. Thank you.”

The woman gave a nod then bustled back to the stove. Picking up two woven cloths, she grasped the handles of the large iron pot and turned to bring it to the table. Noting its obvious weight, Colin took a step forward, intending to offer assistance, but the look she gave him put an immediate halt to the gesture.

She clearly didn’t want or need the help.

Not from him, anyway.

After setting the pot in the center of the table, she used a deep wooden ladle to fill one of the bowls, which she handed first to him. Then she filled one for Caillie and one for herself. The girl filled their glasses with lemonade and handed them out with a smile. The two of them had no doubt shared innumerable meals like this. Distributing the duties between them, sitting in the kitchen. Comfortable. Cozy.

A true family.

Miss Morgan’s earlier words nudged sharply at the back of his brain.

Colin waited until the woman took her seat before lowering himself to a stool. Caillie took the spot nearest to him. She leaned over the wide bowl to breathe in the steam. “Smells delicious, Worthy,” she exclaimed.

“Thank you, Caillie.” She jumped to her feet. “The bread.”

Colin stood as well and waited patiently as she grabbed a cloth-covered basket that had been set aside. When she returned to the table, she arched her brows and gave him a look that was both annoyed and amused. “No need to stand on formality, my lord.”

He gave a small bow. “Nevertheless.”

He wasn’t sure what emotion flickered across her pertly expressive features, but it was quickly overcome by a fervent scowl as she reclaimed her seat.

The meal progressed mostly in silence. And not necessarily due to the slightly awkward tension hovering between himself and Miss Morgan, but because they all quickly became intent on their food.

He hadn’t been expecting much from the rustic meal. His chef in London was a French master and though Colin had never given very thorough consideration to his meals, they were certainly far more complex and sophisticated than what Miss Morgan was likely to offer.

A hearty mixture of carrots, potatoes, some other root vegetables, a bit of onion and garlic and various herbs he didn’t attempt to identify, the stew was rich and flavorful and deeply satisfying.

Colin had just finished spooning the last bite from his bowl when the girl beside him turned to focus all of her attention on him. “My lord, might I ask you a question?”

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