advance. But you’ll have to manage the dinner while I help her.”
That wouldn’t be a problem—he’d learned a lot about cookery from assisting Helena. He knew he’d have to fend for himself when she left to marry Aidan, as he couldn’t afford a servant to do it.
Having a wife to cook for him would be infinitely preferable—though there was little likelihood of that.
“Why so gloomy, when I’ve just suggested a brilliant solution to your problem?”
“I was thinking about Father, and what he said to me that day.”
His sister’s smile melted away. “If only you could make your peace with him. He must be so lonely without us.”
Myall stiffened. “You weren’t there. You didn’t hear the names he called me after the fire. You didn’t see his expression when they took the bandages off, and he saw my ruined face.”
“He was upset for you and frightened. And you know he’d been drinking heavily since Mother died. He hated that you went into that burning house to rescue the child—he thought he’d lost you.”
“Did he tell you so?” Myall still felt slightly ill every time he remembered that dreadful argument with his father. It had hurt more than the burns.
“Nay, but I suspect that was the source of his rage.”
His jaw clenched. “You don’t insult someone because they’ve been burned. You don’t tell them they’ll never find a wife, or have children to carry on the family name, because they look grotesque. You don’t say such things if you love them, as a father should his son.”
He turned away, picked up the poker, and jabbed at the logs. Hopefully, they could leave the subject now.
“Myall.” Helena’s voice was soft and low. “You’re not a monster. When the swelling went down, you looked perfectly normal, except for a few discolored patches. Father was shocked at the sight of you back then, but he hasn’t seen you since. He was drinking even more than usual while you were lying in your sickbed. I’m sure he knew not what he was saying.”
“Sister—enough. I don’t think he has much love in his heart for either of us. You know as well as I do that he’s sitting on a small fortune, and it would be nothing to him to lay out a good dowry for you. If he were to do that, both you and Aidan would be much more comfortably off. We shouldn’t have to scrimp and save to keep you in good gowns, and make you look your best for your suitor—that’s Father’s job. But did he beg you to stay when you threatened to leave if he didn’t give up drinking? Nay. I think he was glad to spare himself the expense of your keep. Now—let us say no more on the subject.”
He could never make peace with his father—there was too much bitterness between them. Besides, he and Helena were managing—after a fashion. And if Julia agreed to Helena’s scheme about sharing the goose, Christmas dinner could be saved, and Helena would be able to impress her suitor. An offer of marriage might soon be in the wind.
Now all he had to do was convince a reticent, belligerent, and proud Julia Wentworth to trust him. That shouldn’t be so difficult.
Should it?
Chapter Five
The sky was dark with the threat of snow, and though the wind had dropped, the bitter chill had forced many people indoors. Julia had stayed at the street corner to sell her decorations for as long as she could bear it. But when her fingers were so numb with cold that she could no longer count out change, she gave up and went home for an early dinner.
Hal was trotting around the yard with their goose waddling along behind him, leashed to his wrist.
She dropped her basket and caught up with him. “Hal, you addlepate! You’ll strangle the poor thing.”
“I thought it might need exercise.”
“Not if we want to fatten it up for Christmas.” She had a handful of grain in the bottom of her basket, which she’d gleaned from a heap of street sweepings. “It needs to be kept still and fed well.”
Hal stared up at her, his mouth drooping. The goose tilted its head and gave her a hopeful look.
“To the Devil with both of you,” she grumbled. She collected her basket, fished out the grain, and held her hand hesitatingly toward the goose. It waddled closer and nimbly pecked the food from her hand. Its beak was hard and ribbed at the edges—the creature could doubtless inflict