A Lady's Dream Come True - Grace Burrowes Page 0,38
chose another piece of shortbread and rose. “I will do my best to be agreeable and ladylike, as ever, but if Mr. Forester is too unbearable, I will kick him under the table.”
Whatever did that mean? “I’ll see you at dinner.”
Tamsin left, though she’d forgotten her penknife.
Vera tried to focus on her ledgers. A household the size of Merlin Hall generated endless ledger entries, each one less interesting than the one before. When the ledgers failed to distract her, she turned to her social correspondence, penning a polite refusal to the Bonners’ invitation to dinner and dancing.
Soon, she’d have to accept such invitations for Catherine’s sake, and when invitations were accepted, they should also, eventually, be reciprocated. The whole business was tiresome for a farmer’s daughter who longed to spend her afternoons reading in the orchard.
Vera rose, the small of her back aching from the hard seat of her writing chair. She stretched and went to the window, realizing that half the afternoon had passed, and she had little to show for the time she’d spent at her desk.
A commotion drew her attention to the bottom of the drive. Oak Dorning sat on the bench of a small farm wagon, a sizable bay horse tied to the back. Large trunks filled the bed of the wagon, and right next to Oak sat Alexander.
His cap was off, and in his small hands he held the reins to the single horse pulling the wagon, a massive chestnut gelding worthy of a wheeler’s honors.
Vera was too much of a countrywoman to be frightened by the sight of Alexander learning to guide a ton of horseflesh, and she trusted Oak to keep her son safe in any case, but as a mother…
Ye gods, they were both growing up. Alexander and Catherine, before her very eyes. Five years from now, Catherine could well be married and starting her own family, and Alexander might be off to public school.
Oak caught sight of her in the window and waved. Vera waved and smiled back. When Alexander—aided by Oak—brought the horse to a stop at the foot of the manor house steps, he looked up and smiled at his mama for the first time in months.
Vera vowed, then and there, that Alexander would enjoy more trips to the village, and to hell with Caesar’s letters to the Galatians, or whatever Jeremy thought was so dratted urgent in the schoolroom.
And she would see about getting Alexander a dog—and possibly one for herself as well.
Chapter Six
“A moment, Alexander,” Oak said as a groom came forward to take the cart horse’s reins. “We must attend to the dust of the road.”
“The dust of the road, sir?” Alexander’s voice had lost yesterday’s hesitant quality, and his gaze was no longer downcast.
Oak lifted him off the wagon bench and set him on his feet. “Our boots.” Oak flourished a handkerchief. “When it rains, a fellow contends with mud. When it doesn’t rain, the problem is dust. The ladies take a dim view of either on their carpets. Hold still.” Oak dusted off Alexander’s toes, then did the same to his own footwear. In the normal course, Oak would not have bothered, but why give Forester a pretext for criticizing the child?
“Mama saw me at the ribbons,” Alexander said, bouncing up the steps to the front door. “She smiled at me.”
“She did, indeed. You should be very proud of yourself, Alexander.” The horse, a stalwart behemoth named Atlas, had probably traveled from Merlin Hall into the village weekly for years and would have trotted the distance with no guidance from a driver.
“May we drive into the village tomorrow, Mr. Dorning?”
“Tomorrow, we will see how Charlie has recovered from his travels. A quiet hack will do, and I will take you up before me if you’re amenable.”
“What’s a menable?”
“Amenable means agreeable, willing. I will walk with you up to the schoolroom if you’re amenable to having my company.”
Alexander preceded Oak into the foyer, where they were greeted by an unsmiling Bracken.
“I took the ribbons, Bracken!” Alexander announced. “All the way back from Bathboro. Is that many miles, Mr. Dorning?”
“A vast distance,” Oak said, ruffling the boy’s hair.
“Have we lost our cap, Master Alexander?” Bracken asked.
Alexander’s hand went to the top of his head, and all the animation in him turned to worry. “My cap! I have lost my—”
Oak pulled the cap from his jacket pocket. “Right here.” He passed the cap to Bracken, then knelt to unbutton Alexander’s jacket.