Desire Becomes Her by Shirlee Busbee Page B

Canfield had no power over them. Even if Canfield carried out his threat, they would certainly lose the cottage, but Uncle Silas would be delighted if they lived with him—he’d mentioned it in his letters in the past and he’d already made it clear during their visit that he’d like their stay to become permanent.
    Lifting Gillian’s chin up, Sophia smiled at her. “Well, I think this is a tempest in a teapot. I’ll miss our little cottage to be sure, but I’m positive that Uncle would have room for Matilda, the cow, and can even find a place for Angel, the sow.” She looked thoughtful. “I wonder, should we bring the chickens?”
    Brushing away signs of tears, Gillian swallowed a bubble of laughter. “Oh Sophy! What would I do without you? You make everything seem so simple.”
    “That’s because it usually is, my dear.” Rising to her feet, she said, “Now Nan should be back with that tea any minute. We’ll speak no further on this matter for the time being, but I suggest we have a talk with Uncle Silas after dinner tonight and apprise him of the situation.”
    Gillian looked away. “If only there was some other way ...”
    “There isn’t,” Sophia answered crisply. “Unless, of course, you’d like becoming Canfield’s mistress.”
    Gillian stared at her in horror and Sophia smiled. “I didn’t think so. We’ll talk to Uncle after dinner.”
    A flush staining her cheeks, Gillian asked in a small voice, “Do we have to tell him everything?”
    “Yes, my dear, I’m afraid we do.”

Chapter 5
    G illian and Sophia decided that a note to their uncle requesting a secret meeting with him tonight after he retired to his rooms would be the easiest arrangement. Gillian gave the note to Meacham and begged him to deliver it to her uncle before Silas went downstairs for dinner.
    “And Meacham,” she said as she pressed the note into his hand, “please do not let Stanley or Lord George Canfield see you giving this to my uncle.”
    Meacham studied her strained face a moment before nodding and saying, “The master is currently in his dressing room—I shall deliver it to him immediately ... and wait for any reply.”
    “Oh Meacham, thank you!”
    While Sophia placidly plied her needle on a piece of embroidery, Gillian paced the confines of the sitting room waiting for Meacham’s return. Fortunately for the state of the blue and cream rug beneath her feet, Meacham was not gone more than ten minutes.
    At the knock on the door, Gillian leaped across the room to answer it. Seeing Meacham standing there, she dragged him inside the room and shut the door. “No one saw you?” she asked.
    “No one, Madame,” he said. A look of distaste flitted across his face. “I believe the two, er, gentlemen are in their own rooms dressing for dinner.” He handed her a small, folded piece of paper. “Here is your reply.”
    “Thank you.”
    Meacham hesitated and Gillian looked at him. “Yes? What is it?”
    He cleared his throat, his cheeks reddening. “It isn’t my place to speak out,” he mumbled, “but should you need help of any sort, do not hesitate to call upon me. It would be my pleasure to serve you and Mrs. Easley however I may.”
    Gillian flashed him such a dazzling smile that he blinked. “Oh Meacham! Thank you. You do not know how much we appreciate your support.”
    Blushing right up to the top of his bald head, Meacham bowed. “Thank you, Madame,” he managed and strode from the room.
    Gillian opened the note and read the few lines. She hadn’t expected that Uncle Silas would deny them a meeting, but relief washed through her when she read his reply.
    “Uncle has agreed to meet us after dinner—once he escapes from Stanley and Canfield,” she said to Sophia. “He suggests that after we’ve eaten, we retire upstairs as soon as politeness allows. When it’s time, Meacham will come for us and take us to his rooms.”
     
    The hour was late when the two women, escorted by Meacham, slipped