true, Evleen,” the lad told his sister earnestly. “She hates everything English. You’ve heard her say so many a time.” Patrick made a face. “You hate them, too.”
“We must remember our manners, Patrick. We must be polite”—Evleen cast a disdainful glance at Thomas—”even if he is one of them.”
Amused, Thomas returned an easy laugh. “I admire a streak of independence in a child. He speaks his mind, an admirable quality as far as I’m concerned. He’s very bright, isn’t he? I am amazed at how well he speaks.”
“For an Irishman?” Evleen asked, lifting her eyebrows.
The devil. I cannot get it right. “For anybody,” he answered smoothly. “Patrick would do well among the most prestigious gathering of the ton, as would your mother—” he paused slightly for effect “—and you.”
“Well!” she said, and seemed at a loss as to what to say in answer to his flattering words. Rude creature. He could not imagine why he found her so fascinating.
The tall man she’d addressed as Timothy spoke up. “Sure an’ he’s a bright lad–” he placed a protective arm around Evleen’s shoulders “—as is this colleen.”
Ah, so she’s his, thought Thomas, recognizing the age-old male sign of possession. “If your mother hates the English, then I am indeed most flattered she has asked me to stay.”
She replied, “My mother is a generous soul. The devil himself could appear at her door and she’d invite him in for tay.”
Tay? Of course, she must mean tea. Thomas was silently amused. Despite Evleen’s well-educated speech, still and all she was Irish and it was bound to show. “Your mother is most charitable.”
“Patrick’s right, you know,” she went on. “My mother does hate the English. We all hate the English, and with good reason.”
He executed a slight bow. “Then I am most grateful for her tolerance, as well as yours.” He wondered if, despite Evleen’s obvious prejudice, he might somehow persuade her he wasn’t such a bad sort, despite being English through-and-through. His spirits dipped as he realized his chances were slim. She’d been right about the rents. After dinner, when she knew for a certainty why he was here, she would dislike him all the more.
Chapter 5
“Why have I never seen this tablecloth before?” asked Patrick as they all sat down to dinner. His bright eyes darted curiously about the long table. “Why are we burning candles when there’s still daylight? What’s that funny thing you put in the middle, Mama?”
Sinead frowned at her son. “We have a special guest, Patrick.” She ran her fingers lovingly over the chantilly lace tablecloth and looked around the table at Evleen, Darragh, Sorcha, Mary, Timothy, O’Grady, and the honored guest, Lord Thomas. “I have not laid this lace cloth on a table since we left Dublin.” She laughed ironically. “In this cottage, somehow it never seemed to fit. Patrick, someday you’ll learn candles aren’t always meant for simply casting light. As for that ‘thing in the middle,’ it’s the epergne which sat on its silver platform in the center of the table at our Dublin townhouse.” She cast a wistful glance at Evleen. “Do you remember our dining room, all done in shades of pale gold? Do you remember my Chinese vases?”
Evleen nodded. “Of course I remember. They were displayed on that giltwood console table from Limerick you were so proud of.”
At Sinead’s deep sigh, Evleen felt guilt that ever since Lord Thomas arrived, she had been upset with her mother for being so nice to him. Mama certainly did not deserve her hostility. She had suffered greatly these past nine years and yet, despite their hardships, had been a pillar of strength. Still, worry nagged Evleen. How could Mama have invited the Englishman to dinner when she knew full well he had come to see about the rents? Evleen had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. No wonder she’d had an uneasy feeling earlier today. Didn’t her mother realize they could be facing total disaster? Evleen was sitting directly across from the Englishman, who, she had to admit, had been the epitome of charm and graciousness since he arrived. Still, for all she knew, he could be just as iniquitous as that other Englishman, who also had exuded charm and graciousness by the bucketful. She had no doubt in her mind this Lord Thomas from Hertfordshire had come to cause them grief.
How much rent would he want? The only reason Mama was able to make the eight hundred pounds last so long was