The Bareknuckle Groom - Holly Bush Page 0,51

ease him back onto the pillows. He’d been laid up for a day or two from a fight before, a few days when Padino had punched him in the throat with coins wrapped in his palm. But never like this. He’d never been . . . incapacitated.

“Carlton Young and his papa are due to arrive day after tomorrow,” Lucinda’s father said as the first course of their luncheon was served.

A servant placed a warm yeast roll on her plate. It made her think of that sweet roll she’d had in the Thompsons’ kitchen the night of James’s bout. She wondered how he was doing, if he’d recovered from his injuries. She’d not slept that night after tapping on the wall of Aunt Louisa’s room. She could not stop envisioning his battered face, the pull of the thread as Aunt Murdoch stitched him, and that sound, oh dear, that sound when the doctor straightened his finger.

“How lovely,” she said and tasted her soup.

“You’d best be on good behavior, Daughter. Carlton is a perfect match for this family.”

“But he may not be a perfect match for Lucinda, Henri,” Aunt Louisa said.

The meal continued, her father’s edicts becoming more strident and Aunt’s objections more vocal. She was glad to not be involved. She had no intentions of marrying Carlton Young, but she did not care to discuss that decision just now. Aunt had just stood when Laurent came into the dining room.

“Pardon me,” he said with a deferential nod to her father. “There are callers here for Miss Lucinda and Miss Vermeal. Would you like me to show them to the yellow salon?”

“Callers?” Father asked.

“Yes, Henri. Callers,” Aunt Louisa said. “We do occasionally have guests. The yellow salon is fine, Laurent. Please send a tray with coffee and tea.”

Lucinda and her aunt made their way to the salon, and a servant opened the door as the tea cart was being wheeled inside.

“Miss Thompson and Mrs. Pendergast! How delightful. I have not seen you since your lovely party at the Pendergasts’ last month,” Aunt Louisa said.

Lucinda’s heart began to race. Why were they here? Had they come to deliver terrible news? She was rooted to the entrance of the room and felt the blood drain from her face. Mrs. Pendergast hurried toward her.

“Do not make yourself uneasy. James is recovering,” she said quietly.

Lucinda let out a held breath and fought for composure. She closed her eyes briefly.

“Thank you, Mrs. Pendergast.”

“What a lovely tea service,” she said and led Lucinda to a chair.

Aunt Louisa poured tea for everyone, and Lucinda was glad to see she could accept the china without her hand shaking noticeably. They talked for several minutes about inconsequential everyday things. Lucinda wondered if they’d not said anything more about James because her aunt was in the room.

“The real reason we’ve come to see you, other than enjoying this chat and this fine tea,” Mrs. Pendergast said, “is to invite you to a luncheon.”

“I do some charity work for a catholic orphanage in our neighborhood,” Muireall Thompson said. “We’ll be having our annual bazaar next month, and one of the items for sale will be a handmade quilt we’ve been working on. Because of some excitement in our family, we’ve fallen behind. We thought we might enlist you to join us to help quilt and to have a meal.”

Lucinda looked up as her father came into the room. “Ladies.” He nodded. “Welcome to our home.”

“We were just asking the Misses Vermeal if they would join us for a charitable undertaking,” Mrs. Pendergast said.

“A charitable undertaking? Will a donation be helpful?”

“Donations are always appreciated at the Sisters of Charity Orphanage. But this is more a request for their skilled labor,” Miss Thompson said.

“Of course, of course. Get the address, Louisa. We’ll send something within the month. Afternoon, ladies,” he said as he turned to leave.

Lucinda waited until she heard the door close. “I would be happy to help.”

“Where will we be stitching this quilt?” Aunt Louisa asked. “At the orphanage?”

Muireall Thompson looked directly at Lucinda. “75 Locust Street. We hope you both could join us in the afternoon and plan on staying for your evening meal.”

Aunt glanced at her. “We would be delighted. What day were you planning?”

“Tomorrow, if your schedules suit. The quilt is . . . impatiently waiting,” Mrs. Pendergast said.

“That would be best,” Aunt said. “My brother has invited guests to stay for a few days, and Lucinda and I are to entertain the son of that family. They are to