them." She raised her chin a notch, clearly challenging him to comment on her improper reading habits. Amazed though he was, he chose not to accommodate her, but at least he now understood her crimson blush.
Adopting a mild tone, he commented, "I see. I didn't think most women cared for adventure stories."
"I … I'm afraid I am not most women."
"You sound sorry about that."
She shrugged. "Not really, although I must admit that sometimes I wish I could be more like the other young women in the village—carefree and more social."
Stephen studied her over the rim of his snifter, assessing her and her words. She single-handedly cared for an entire brood of children and a bizarre household, saved stranger's lives, and was highly intelligent. Not to mention witty, honest, warm, and friendly, and she could shave a man's face without so much as a nick. And the fact that she could ride astride and read gentlemen's magazines fascinated him as much as it appalled him.
"No, you aren't most women," he said softly. And believe me, that is a grand compliment.
* * *
Dinner that evening was an event unlike anything Stephen had ever experienced. He'd taken lunch with the family yesterday and had been surprised to see the younger children eating at the table with the adults, but decided such a breach of social rules must just be for the informal
noon
meal.
Because he'd eaten dinner in his bedchamber on a tray last night, this was his first evening meal with the Albrights. To his surprise, Andrew, Nathan, and Callie joined the adults at the table. But his jaw nearly dropped to the floor when he realized that Winston and Grimsley also ate with the family. Hayley presided at the head of the table while her aunt Olivia sat at the foot. The chatter was lively and constant, something he was most unused to.
As a child, he'd never been permitted to eat with his parents. The duke and duchess ate in the formal dining room while Stephen ,
Victoria
, and Gregory ate in the nursery with their governess, a stern woman who didn't encourage conversation during meals.
As a result, Stephen was accustomed to quiet meals. The boisterous voices at the Albright table amazed and disconcerted him.
Once everyone's plate was filled, Hayley tapped her goblet with her fork, garnering the group's attention. "Quiet, everyone!" When they had settled down, she stood and said, "I have an announcement to make before we start. I just want to let everyone know that we shall have the pleasure of Mr. Barrettson's company for the next few weeks, until his ribs are healed enough for him to travel back to London without causing him pain or possible further injury—"
"Does that mean he'll be able to come to one of my tea parties?" piped in Callie, a hopeful look lighting her small face.
"And can we continue grooming Pericles?" asked Nathan. "He's the finest horse I've ever seen."
"And perhaps we can ride him?" came Andrew's excited voice.
"That's entirely up to Mr. Barrettson," Hayley said in a repressive tone to the two boys. She picked up her goblet of cider and raised it, turning her eyes to Stephen, who was seated in the place of honor on her right. "We are pleased to have you join us at our table, Mr. Barrettson. I propose a toast to your full and speedy recovery." She inclined her goblet toward him.
Stephen picked up his goblet and touched its rim to hers. His eyes met hers, and he could not help but read the warmth and acceptance in them. He looked around the table, his gaze taking in all of them.
"Thank you," he said, surprised by the lump lodged in his throat. The others all picked up their goblets and toasted him.
"Whose turn is it to say the dinner prayer, Hayley?" Pamela asked when everyone was once again settled.
"I believe it's Callie's turn," Hayley replied with a smile at her little sister, who sat on Stephen's other side.
The child held out her hand to Stephen. He stared at the small palm blankly.
"We join hands for our dinner prayer," Callie
Adopting a mild tone, he commented, "I see. I didn't think most women cared for adventure stories."
"I … I'm afraid I am not most women."
"You sound sorry about that."
She shrugged. "Not really, although I must admit that sometimes I wish I could be more like the other young women in the village—carefree and more social."
Stephen studied her over the rim of his snifter, assessing her and her words. She single-handedly cared for an entire brood of children and a bizarre household, saved stranger's lives, and was highly intelligent. Not to mention witty, honest, warm, and friendly, and she could shave a man's face without so much as a nick. And the fact that she could ride astride and read gentlemen's magazines fascinated him as much as it appalled him.
"No, you aren't most women," he said softly. And believe me, that is a grand compliment.
* * *
Dinner that evening was an event unlike anything Stephen had ever experienced. He'd taken lunch with the family yesterday and had been surprised to see the younger children eating at the table with the adults, but decided such a breach of social rules must just be for the informal
noon
meal.
Because he'd eaten dinner in his bedchamber on a tray last night, this was his first evening meal with the Albrights. To his surprise, Andrew, Nathan, and Callie joined the adults at the table. But his jaw nearly dropped to the floor when he realized that Winston and Grimsley also ate with the family. Hayley presided at the head of the table while her aunt Olivia sat at the foot. The chatter was lively and constant, something he was most unused to.
As a child, he'd never been permitted to eat with his parents. The duke and duchess ate in the formal dining room while Stephen ,
Victoria
, and Gregory ate in the nursery with their governess, a stern woman who didn't encourage conversation during meals.
As a result, Stephen was accustomed to quiet meals. The boisterous voices at the Albright table amazed and disconcerted him.
Once everyone's plate was filled, Hayley tapped her goblet with her fork, garnering the group's attention. "Quiet, everyone!" When they had settled down, she stood and said, "I have an announcement to make before we start. I just want to let everyone know that we shall have the pleasure of Mr. Barrettson's company for the next few weeks, until his ribs are healed enough for him to travel back to London without causing him pain or possible further injury—"
"Does that mean he'll be able to come to one of my tea parties?" piped in Callie, a hopeful look lighting her small face.
"And can we continue grooming Pericles?" asked Nathan. "He's the finest horse I've ever seen."
"And perhaps we can ride him?" came Andrew's excited voice.
"That's entirely up to Mr. Barrettson," Hayley said in a repressive tone to the two boys. She picked up her goblet of cider and raised it, turning her eyes to Stephen, who was seated in the place of honor on her right. "We are pleased to have you join us at our table, Mr. Barrettson. I propose a toast to your full and speedy recovery." She inclined her goblet toward him.
Stephen picked up his goblet and touched its rim to hers. His eyes met hers, and he could not help but read the warmth and acceptance in them. He looked around the table, his gaze taking in all of them.
"Thank you," he said, surprised by the lump lodged in his throat. The others all picked up their goblets and toasted him.
"Whose turn is it to say the dinner prayer, Hayley?" Pamela asked when everyone was once again settled.
"I believe it's Callie's turn," Hayley replied with a smile at her little sister, who sat on Stephen's other side.
The child held out her hand to Stephen. He stared at the small palm blankly.
"We join hands for our dinner prayer," Callie
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