smiled his way. “It’s so romantic.”
Feeling his throat go dry, Alex poured a glass of the amber-colored liquid from a pitcher and drew it to his lips. Sweet mint filled his mouth. A tea of some kind. Cold but pleasant tasting.
Mr. Drummond drew his brows together and cast a harried glance at Miss McGuire then back at Alex. “Who was the scoundrel, sir?”
“Nobody, uncle.” Miss McGuire found her voice, although it sounded as strangled as if she’d swallowed a piece of rope. “The whole event was of no consequence.”
Ignoring her, Alex chuckled. “Why, it was none other than your Mr. Snyder. At first glance, I feared his intentions were less than honorable, so I ordered him to leave.”
“How gallant you were, Mr. Reed.” Amelia took a bite of potatoes.
Mr. Drummond snorted. “I wish I could have seen his face.” Crumbs flew from his mouth onto the table. Alex cringed at the man’s lack of manners.
“Now, Forbes. That isn’t kind.” Mrs. Drummond laid a hand on her husband’s arm. “Mr. Snyder is a respectable councilman.” She directed her gaze toward Miss McGuire. “And quite taken with you, Rose.”
Miss McGuire toyed with the food on her plate but offered no reply nor did she lift her gaze.
“But I’m confused, how did you come to be my new man of work?” Mr. Drummond pointed his fork at Alex—once again showing a lack of good breeding.
Miss McGuire lifted her chin. Wayward strands of honey-drenched hair dangled like glimmering threads about her neck. “Uncle, truth be told—and I’m sorry if this impugns your opinion of Mr. Snyder, Aunt Muira—but the man would not leave at my request. He was being quite obstinate. If not for Mr. Reed’s intrusion, I cannot imagine what would have happened.”
Mrs. Drummond’s features wrinkled. “Surely you do not think he would do you harm, Rose. Preposterous.” She chortled as she glanced around the table.
“I didn’t think so either, Aunt, but then the infernal man wouldn’t leave.”
“Our sweet Rose creates a dither out of every little thing.” Mr. Drummond tossed the last bite of his biscuit into his mouth.
Miss McGuire’s shoulders slumped, and Alex pitied her for her uncle’s nonchalant attitude toward her safety. What was the man thinking? Leaving two young ladies at home alone without a man in attendance to protect them?
“You should try this apple butter, Mr. Reed.” Mr. Drummond handed the bowl to Amelia, who passed it to Alex. “It is quite delicious.”
Amelia slid her fingers over Alex’s as he grabbed the dish and set it down on the table. “I think Mr. Snyder left because he was frightened of Mr. Reed.”
Ignoring her flirtations, Alex placed a piece of meat into his mouth and was instantly rewarded with a spicy, succulent flavor. Certainly not the hard tack and dried beef he normally received when out to sea. Rabbit, if he remembered the taste, though it had rarely been served at the Reed table.
A breeze swirled in from the open window, sending the candles sputtering, and bringing with it the scent of hay and evening primrose. Mrs. Drummond patted her coiffure back in place. “I imagine that Mr. Snyder was indeed frightened. You make quite an imposing figure, Mr. Reed. But do tell us what happened to your leg?”
“Pistol shot,” he replied casually. He spooned potatoes into his mouth, finding himself suddenly quite hungry.
Someone kicked his leg beneath the table again. He winced and leveled a gaze at Miss McGuire. She frowned and jerked her head toward the door, no doubt prodding him to excuse himself and leave.
But his stomach resisted the notion.
Mrs. Drummond’s green eyes flashed. “Shot! Indeed, from whom, where?”
“In the battle for Odelltown, Quebec, madam. Vermont militia.” Alex cringed at the lie once again, but it could not be helped.
“Good heavens.” Mr. Drummond set down his spoon, his ruddy face reddening even further. “So you are a soldier?”
Amelia leaned her chin
Feeling his throat go dry, Alex poured a glass of the amber-colored liquid from a pitcher and drew it to his lips. Sweet mint filled his mouth. A tea of some kind. Cold but pleasant tasting.
Mr. Drummond drew his brows together and cast a harried glance at Miss McGuire then back at Alex. “Who was the scoundrel, sir?”
“Nobody, uncle.” Miss McGuire found her voice, although it sounded as strangled as if she’d swallowed a piece of rope. “The whole event was of no consequence.”
Ignoring her, Alex chuckled. “Why, it was none other than your Mr. Snyder. At first glance, I feared his intentions were less than honorable, so I ordered him to leave.”
“How gallant you were, Mr. Reed.” Amelia took a bite of potatoes.
Mr. Drummond snorted. “I wish I could have seen his face.” Crumbs flew from his mouth onto the table. Alex cringed at the man’s lack of manners.
“Now, Forbes. That isn’t kind.” Mrs. Drummond laid a hand on her husband’s arm. “Mr. Snyder is a respectable councilman.” She directed her gaze toward Miss McGuire. “And quite taken with you, Rose.”
Miss McGuire toyed with the food on her plate but offered no reply nor did she lift her gaze.
“But I’m confused, how did you come to be my new man of work?” Mr. Drummond pointed his fork at Alex—once again showing a lack of good breeding.
Miss McGuire lifted her chin. Wayward strands of honey-drenched hair dangled like glimmering threads about her neck. “Uncle, truth be told—and I’m sorry if this impugns your opinion of Mr. Snyder, Aunt Muira—but the man would not leave at my request. He was being quite obstinate. If not for Mr. Reed’s intrusion, I cannot imagine what would have happened.”
Mrs. Drummond’s features wrinkled. “Surely you do not think he would do you harm, Rose. Preposterous.” She chortled as she glanced around the table.
“I didn’t think so either, Aunt, but then the infernal man wouldn’t leave.”
“Our sweet Rose creates a dither out of every little thing.” Mr. Drummond tossed the last bite of his biscuit into his mouth.
Miss McGuire’s shoulders slumped, and Alex pitied her for her uncle’s nonchalant attitude toward her safety. What was the man thinking? Leaving two young ladies at home alone without a man in attendance to protect them?
“You should try this apple butter, Mr. Reed.” Mr. Drummond handed the bowl to Amelia, who passed it to Alex. “It is quite delicious.”
Amelia slid her fingers over Alex’s as he grabbed the dish and set it down on the table. “I think Mr. Snyder left because he was frightened of Mr. Reed.”
Ignoring her flirtations, Alex placed a piece of meat into his mouth and was instantly rewarded with a spicy, succulent flavor. Certainly not the hard tack and dried beef he normally received when out to sea. Rabbit, if he remembered the taste, though it had rarely been served at the Reed table.
A breeze swirled in from the open window, sending the candles sputtering, and bringing with it the scent of hay and evening primrose. Mrs. Drummond patted her coiffure back in place. “I imagine that Mr. Snyder was indeed frightened. You make quite an imposing figure, Mr. Reed. But do tell us what happened to your leg?”
“Pistol shot,” he replied casually. He spooned potatoes into his mouth, finding himself suddenly quite hungry.
Someone kicked his leg beneath the table again. He winced and leveled a gaze at Miss McGuire. She frowned and jerked her head toward the door, no doubt prodding him to excuse himself and leave.
But his stomach resisted the notion.
Mrs. Drummond’s green eyes flashed. “Shot! Indeed, from whom, where?”
“In the battle for Odelltown, Quebec, madam. Vermont militia.” Alex cringed at the lie once again, but it could not be helped.
“Good heavens.” Mr. Drummond set down his spoon, his ruddy face reddening even further. “So you are a soldier?”
Amelia leaned her chin
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