and Olivia spoke up. “You will stay for tea, I hope, Miss Watson. We shall take it in the music room. It is far from the library and will not disturb the men. I should so much like to know more about your family. Did you say your sister has a home in Cranleigh Crescent?”
“Yes,” Prudence managed as she accompanied Olivia down a carpeted corridor.
“And does your sister enjoy the city?”
“Very much. Sarah and Charles live but an easy walk from our family home, Trenton House.”
“This is pleasant news indeed,” Olivia observed as they entered a small, sunlit room. A pianoforte, violin, flute, and several other instruments had been set out, together with stacks of sheet music.
“And your sister’s husband is in the tea trade?” Olivia continued.
“Recently. He and his father formed a partnership with Lord Delacroix and several other men. They import tea from China.”
“How very nice. Will you sit?” Olivia motioned to a tufted damask chair.
Prudence all but collapsed into it. “Am I not to see Mr. Sherbourne at all, Lady Thorne?”
“I think not, for he is much occupied. Do you prefer cake with your tea? Or shall I ring for crumpets?”
“Cake is lovely, please.” As she spoke the words, she recalled Mr. Walker telling her that the mill’s children subsisted on water porridge.
“I am fond of hot crumpets,” Olivia was saying as she rang for tea. “But I find that cake satisfies me more. I believe we shall have currant cake, for I ordered one yesterday.”
She spoke briefly to the maid before returning to Prudence. “And how does Mrs. Heathhill fare this morning? I must tell you that her turn at the pianoforte last night delighted everyone. My husband declared he has rarely heard anything that pleased him more.”
“My sister is well, but am I not to go riding? not at all?”
“Perhaps another time. Though I understand you do not plan to stay much longer in Yorkshire. Is that so?”
“We . . . we . . . Truly I must speak to Mr. Sherbourne, madam. It is a subject of much consequence, and I fear it cannot be delayed even one more hour.”
“Oh?” Olivia’s brown eyes darkened. “Well . . . if you will excuse me a moment . . . I shall just go and speak to my husband.”
Prudence nodded. “Thank you very much.”
Lady Thorne left the sitting room as the tea was being brought in. Envisioning mutinous schemes among Thorne Lodge’s household staff, Prudence studied the expression of the kitchenmaid who set the tray on a table before her. The young woman’s face was composed, her attention consumed by cutting slices of currant cake and pouring out cups of tea.
But just as Prudence relaxed into her chair, she heard the woman mumble something. Sitting up, she touched the maid’s arm. “Excuse me? Did you say something?”
Blue eyes flashed in her direction for an instant. “Thank you, Miss Watson,” she whispered. “My three little brothers are piecers and my sister is a scavenger at the mill. We are most grateful for what you done for ’em. You are the bravest lady I ever met.”
Prudence opened her mouth to respond, but Olivia reentered the sitting room followed by her husband. William was just behind them.
“Ah, Miss Watson,” Lord Thorne greeted her, bowing as she stood to curtsy. “Delighted to see you again so soon. You are looking very well today.”
“Thank you, sir.” She looked at William, her mouth suddenly dry. “Mr. Sherbourne, are we not to go riding this morning? I very much wished to go riding.”
One dark eyebrow arched. “I understand, of course . . . but my brother’s steward—”
“He has come from London, yes, but you promised to take me out. I am very eager to ride, sir. Terribly eager.”
“You are?” He looked at Randolph before facing her again. “But you see, Miss Watson, I have not completed the task you assigned.”
“Task?”
“I was to read the Gospel of St. John.”
With dismay she recalled the duty she had teasingly
“Yes,” Prudence managed as she accompanied Olivia down a carpeted corridor.
“And does your sister enjoy the city?”
“Very much. Sarah and Charles live but an easy walk from our family home, Trenton House.”
“This is pleasant news indeed,” Olivia observed as they entered a small, sunlit room. A pianoforte, violin, flute, and several other instruments had been set out, together with stacks of sheet music.
“And your sister’s husband is in the tea trade?” Olivia continued.
“Recently. He and his father formed a partnership with Lord Delacroix and several other men. They import tea from China.”
“How very nice. Will you sit?” Olivia motioned to a tufted damask chair.
Prudence all but collapsed into it. “Am I not to see Mr. Sherbourne at all, Lady Thorne?”
“I think not, for he is much occupied. Do you prefer cake with your tea? Or shall I ring for crumpets?”
“Cake is lovely, please.” As she spoke the words, she recalled Mr. Walker telling her that the mill’s children subsisted on water porridge.
“I am fond of hot crumpets,” Olivia was saying as she rang for tea. “But I find that cake satisfies me more. I believe we shall have currant cake, for I ordered one yesterday.”
She spoke briefly to the maid before returning to Prudence. “And how does Mrs. Heathhill fare this morning? I must tell you that her turn at the pianoforte last night delighted everyone. My husband declared he has rarely heard anything that pleased him more.”
“My sister is well, but am I not to go riding? not at all?”
“Perhaps another time. Though I understand you do not plan to stay much longer in Yorkshire. Is that so?”
“We . . . we . . . Truly I must speak to Mr. Sherbourne, madam. It is a subject of much consequence, and I fear it cannot be delayed even one more hour.”
“Oh?” Olivia’s brown eyes darkened. “Well . . . if you will excuse me a moment . . . I shall just go and speak to my husband.”
Prudence nodded. “Thank you very much.”
Lady Thorne left the sitting room as the tea was being brought in. Envisioning mutinous schemes among Thorne Lodge’s household staff, Prudence studied the expression of the kitchenmaid who set the tray on a table before her. The young woman’s face was composed, her attention consumed by cutting slices of currant cake and pouring out cups of tea.
But just as Prudence relaxed into her chair, she heard the woman mumble something. Sitting up, she touched the maid’s arm. “Excuse me? Did you say something?”
Blue eyes flashed in her direction for an instant. “Thank you, Miss Watson,” she whispered. “My three little brothers are piecers and my sister is a scavenger at the mill. We are most grateful for what you done for ’em. You are the bravest lady I ever met.”
Prudence opened her mouth to respond, but Olivia reentered the sitting room followed by her husband. William was just behind them.
“Ah, Miss Watson,” Lord Thorne greeted her, bowing as she stood to curtsy. “Delighted to see you again so soon. You are looking very well today.”
“Thank you, sir.” She looked at William, her mouth suddenly dry. “Mr. Sherbourne, are we not to go riding this morning? I very much wished to go riding.”
One dark eyebrow arched. “I understand, of course . . . but my brother’s steward—”
“He has come from London, yes, but you promised to take me out. I am very eager to ride, sir. Terribly eager.”
“You are?” He looked at Randolph before facing her again. “But you see, Miss Watson, I have not completed the task you assigned.”
“Task?”
“I was to read the Gospel of St. John.”
With dismay she recalled the duty she had teasingly
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