be enjoying his usual leisurely meal.
Benna flung open the door to the cozy, sunny room, grimly pleased when both Michael and Fenwick jolted.
“Why good morning, Ben—”
“How dare you accuse Tom of stealing and sack him? How dare you?”
Michael gave her a smile that made her want to plant him a facer. “Not in front of our guest, my dear.”
“He’s not my guest. And this is my house and I am the mistress of it; I’ll speak to whomever I please, whenever, however, and wherever I please.”
Michael’s smile never wavered, but fury darkened his eyes. “The old man was caught selling your brother’s tack.”
“That’s a goddamned lie!” Benna raged.
Michael made a discreet gesture and the two footmen who’d been hovering—both of whom had come with her cousin—withdrew.
“Where is he now?” Benna had to force the words through clenched teeth.
“If he values his hide then he’s many miles away—which is far better than he deserves.”
“Who said he was stealing tack?”
“It hardly matters,” he said coolly, “But, if you must know, it was Diggle who caught him.”
“Diggle.” Benna snorted. “Why am I not surprised.” She wanted to launch herself onto her smirking cousin and scratch out his eyes.
Only with a herculean effort was she able to remind herself of how she’d discovered this disastrous news to begin with.
“One of your oafs—Bannock—refused to ready my carriage this morning.”
“If you need to take a carriage somewhere, I shall be honored to accompany you, my dear.” He’d turned back to his plate, buttering a slice of bread while Fenwick grinned, looking as if he were watching a particularly entertaining pantomime.
Benna scowled at the fool and pulled her gaze back to her cousin. “It just so happens that I don’t want you to accompany me, my dear.”
Fenwick snorted, earning a disapproving glance from the earl.
“It is not appropriate for you to go jauntering about without somebody to accompany you.”
“I would have somebody to accompany me if you’d not given poor Garvey the sack.”
“Garvey? I presume you mean that ancient, witless maidservant who allowed you to run wild and unchecked.”
“Garvey happened to be my mother’s nurse, my lord.”
“Well, then it was time she was put out to pasture, Your Grace. You may take a carriage into town as long as you have Mrs. Blanchard accompany you.”
Mrs. Blanchard was a horrid woman who’d appeared one morning in Benna’s room, insisting that she was her new dresser. Benna was positive the woman was warming Michael’s bed and had forbidden her to enter her chambers ever again.
“Mrs. Blanchard is a snoop who goes through my private things.”
Michael laughed. “What in the world could a chit your age have to keep private?”
Benna ignored the odious question. “You’ve not heard the last from me on this matter, Michael. I’m going to get to the bottom of Diggle’s monstrous accusation.” Benna spun on her heel and flung the door open so hard that it bounced off the wall.
***
There was just enough moonlight that Benna could finish working on the rabbit’s ears.
She’d begun whittling several years ago, when Tom had told her that she needed a way to vent some of her restless energy.
She’d been working her way through the animal kingdom ever since. When she’d begun this particular carving, only a month ago, she had looked forward to testing her skill on such an ambitious design.
Now, after living under Michael’s thumb for more than two weeks, her normally steady hands were jerky and the fine details the work required seemed beyond her.
Before she accidentally cut off one of her fingers or ruined the carving entirely, she folded up her penny knife and slipped it and the small carving back into her coat pocket.
A quick glance at her watch told her it was three o’clock; she’d been waiting almost two hours. She stomped her boots and rubbed her hands together, her breath visible on the frosty air.
Benna glanced around the empty spinney, hope dying inside her. If Tom didn’t come here tonight, she just didn’t know—
“Your Grace.”
Benna let out a mortifying squeak and spun around. “Tom!” She crossed the distance between them in two long strides and flung herself at him.
His stout body froze for an instant at her uncharacteristic behavior, but then he patted her on the back with one of his shovel-like hands. Although Tom was a good six inches shorter than her, he was heavy-boned and as round as a barrel.
“Here then, Your Grace,” he muttered into her shoulder.
Benna reluctantly pulled away, rubbing at the tears of relief on her cheeks.
“No need