grave need of assistance. “He saved our mother’s life,” she reminded Lily. “Is that not worth our hospitality for a week or a fortnight at the very latest?”
“We don’t know him,” her sister repeated. “Honestly, Rose, where has your good sense gone?”
“The rain melted it away.” But she sent her sister a pointed look. “And it’s not as if you haven’t behaved in a rash manner before, am I right?”
Lily had the good graces to blush. “Be that as it may, if he dares to harm anyone—”
“I will be the first to send him away.” But she believed that Mr. Donovan—or Lord Ashton—was a good man at heart. And she could not deny that he had awakened her sense of adventure, making her want to go riding each morning. He needed help and advice, both of which she could provide.
“Supper will be served within the hour,” Lily reminded her. “Do you honestly expect us to dine with him? Or will he eat among the servants?”
Rose hadn’t thought of that. Though she was tempted to order Fulton to bring Mr. Donovan to their table, it would likely cause an outcry from the staff.
“I suppose he should eat with the staff or alone in his room,” she answered. “Until we know his identity for certain, it would not be wise to disrupt the order of our household.”
But, even so, Rose wondered about the mysterious Iain Donovan. Was he indeed an earl? Or was he merely a liar?
The next day, there was still no sign of Lady Wolcroft. Iain learned that Lady Rose’s mother had been convalescing after a brief illness. At least there would be no danger of her wandering off today. It would give him the opportunity to seek his belongings from the mischievous Master Beauregard. The boy had been given adequate time to return them.
Iain poured water into the basin and washed his face and hands. This morning, he planned to pay a call on Beauregard’s father. But Sir Lester might not receive him, given the state of Iain’s bedraggled clothing—that is, unless Lady Rose accompanied him. He decided to invite her along.
After he finished getting dressed, he rubbed the cat’s ears by way of farewell. Moses purred and butted his head against Iain’s hand.
He left the garret and walked down the narrow flights of stairs until he reached the kitchen. The housekeeper was busy directing the cook on what to serve at breakfast, and the smell of eggs made his mouth water.
For a moment, he closed his eyes, savoring dreams of hot food. In his own kitchen, they’d had to lock the doors and bar the windows, for starving tenants roamed freely across Ireland and would not hesitate to kill those who had supplies. Iain had worn a revolver at his side, morning and night. He’d also ordered the cook to hide a great deal of the food, and he’d kept a tight inventory over what was saved and what was consumed.
His first responsibility was to his own tenants, not strangers. And yet, nothing had been more difficult than turning away those in need. Because of his rationing, they’d survived the first year of famine. It was too soon to tell if this year would be any different, but he hoped the harvest would improve.
Iain bowed to the housekeeper and sent her a warm smile. “Good morning to you, Mrs. Marlock.”
“Off wi’ ye.” She handed him a bowl of porridge and pointed toward a long table, where several of the servants were eating quickly. “When ye’ve finished with that, go out and help Nelson with the horses.”
He didn’t bother correcting her assumption that he was here as a servant, but instead accepted the food and went to sit at the table. Hattie was finishing her own dish of porridge, scraping the bottom of the bowl. Her eyes narrowed at him, but she gave him a nod of acknowledgment and passed him the honey. It was a start, he supposed.
“When you help your mistress to dress, would you be so good as to ask Lady Rose if she’s wanting to take a morning ride?” Iain ventured.
The maid sent him a curious
“We don’t know him,” her sister repeated. “Honestly, Rose, where has your good sense gone?”
“The rain melted it away.” But she sent her sister a pointed look. “And it’s not as if you haven’t behaved in a rash manner before, am I right?”
Lily had the good graces to blush. “Be that as it may, if he dares to harm anyone—”
“I will be the first to send him away.” But she believed that Mr. Donovan—or Lord Ashton—was a good man at heart. And she could not deny that he had awakened her sense of adventure, making her want to go riding each morning. He needed help and advice, both of which she could provide.
“Supper will be served within the hour,” Lily reminded her. “Do you honestly expect us to dine with him? Or will he eat among the servants?”
Rose hadn’t thought of that. Though she was tempted to order Fulton to bring Mr. Donovan to their table, it would likely cause an outcry from the staff.
“I suppose he should eat with the staff or alone in his room,” she answered. “Until we know his identity for certain, it would not be wise to disrupt the order of our household.”
But, even so, Rose wondered about the mysterious Iain Donovan. Was he indeed an earl? Or was he merely a liar?
The next day, there was still no sign of Lady Wolcroft. Iain learned that Lady Rose’s mother had been convalescing after a brief illness. At least there would be no danger of her wandering off today. It would give him the opportunity to seek his belongings from the mischievous Master Beauregard. The boy had been given adequate time to return them.
Iain poured water into the basin and washed his face and hands. This morning, he planned to pay a call on Beauregard’s father. But Sir Lester might not receive him, given the state of Iain’s bedraggled clothing—that is, unless Lady Rose accompanied him. He decided to invite her along.
After he finished getting dressed, he rubbed the cat’s ears by way of farewell. Moses purred and butted his head against Iain’s hand.
He left the garret and walked down the narrow flights of stairs until he reached the kitchen. The housekeeper was busy directing the cook on what to serve at breakfast, and the smell of eggs made his mouth water.
For a moment, he closed his eyes, savoring dreams of hot food. In his own kitchen, they’d had to lock the doors and bar the windows, for starving tenants roamed freely across Ireland and would not hesitate to kill those who had supplies. Iain had worn a revolver at his side, morning and night. He’d also ordered the cook to hide a great deal of the food, and he’d kept a tight inventory over what was saved and what was consumed.
His first responsibility was to his own tenants, not strangers. And yet, nothing had been more difficult than turning away those in need. Because of his rationing, they’d survived the first year of famine. It was too soon to tell if this year would be any different, but he hoped the harvest would improve.
Iain bowed to the housekeeper and sent her a warm smile. “Good morning to you, Mrs. Marlock.”
“Off wi’ ye.” She handed him a bowl of porridge and pointed toward a long table, where several of the servants were eating quickly. “When ye’ve finished with that, go out and help Nelson with the horses.”
He didn’t bother correcting her assumption that he was here as a servant, but instead accepted the food and went to sit at the table. Hattie was finishing her own dish of porridge, scraping the bottom of the bowl. Her eyes narrowed at him, but she gave him a nod of acknowledgment and passed him the honey. It was a start, he supposed.
“When you help your mistress to dress, would you be so good as to ask Lady Rose if she’s wanting to take a morning ride?” Iain ventured.
The maid sent him a curious
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