“The Penrose girls?” A hint of turquoise mischief flickered in Susannah’s eyes. “Those silly green gooses? We locked them in the west attic until they learn to flirt properly with young gentlemen.”
Ford felt his mouth stretch upwards in an unfamiliar way while a strange sound rumbled up from his chest, stiff and hoarse from disuse. He marvelled at the effortless way Laura’s sisters lightened his mood. While he bantered with them, the past seven years seemed to retreat like a bad dream from which he’d been relieved to waken. “I thought flirts were the ones who got locked away until they learned proper decorum.”
Belinda shook her head, making her chestnut curls waggle. “I fear you are sadly behind the times, sir.”
Both girls laughed, wrinkling up their pert little noses as their sister once had. It was a mannerism Ford had found particularly endearing. Now, as she brushed past him to stand behind her sisters, Laura looked as grim as any strait-laced spinster.
“Mind your manners, you two,” she chided them with only the flimsiest veneer of jest, “or Lord Kingsfold may turn us out of his house. Is that not so, my lord?”
Behind her pretence of wit, Ford sensed fear and desperation. But the proud tilt of her chin issued a challenge. He was not certain how to respond. Nothing at Hawkesbourne Hall was what he’d expected.
“I said no such thing,” he replied. “Your sisters are welcome to visit for as long as they wish.”
“Visit?” cried Susannah as she and Belinda swooped toward Ford, each taking hold of one of his arms. “You’re joking again, aren’t you? We live here, of course, and so does Mama. How pleased she will be to see you again.”
Belinda let out another infectious giggle. “I hope you won’t turn us out before we’ve had a chance to hear about your adventures in the Indies. Did you ever see an elephant? Or a tiger? Did you eat lots of curry?”
“Too much.” Ford strove to conceal his surprise at Susannah’s off-hand announcement. How long had the girls and their mother been living at Hawkesbourne and why? “But just now, I could eat a whole tiger or a haunch of roast elephant. Join me for dinner and I promise to fill your ears with tales of the Far East.”
“Dinner?” Laura looked as if he had demanded her head on a platter. “Of course, you must be famished after your journey.”
Casting a glance at her sisters, she nodded toward the drawing-room door. “Susannah go help Mr Pryce fetch in the master’s baggage. Belinda, come with me to help Cook prepare dinner. We have the rest of those trout dear Mr Crawford brought. I hope fish will suit you, Ford, since we are fresh out of elephant?”
Her question made Ford grin before he could stop himself. It surprised him to discover she still possessed a spark of wit beneath her mask of cool restraint. A great number of things about her surprised or mystified him.
One minor mystery provoked him to inquire. “Who is this Mr Crawford who furnishes food for my table?”
“Only a kind neighbour,” Laura replied as her sisters released Ford’s arms and headed away with obvious reluctance. “Without his generosity, we would have had a poor meal to welcome you home.”
Now that he thought of it, Ford recalled a Crawford family who occupied one of the neighbouring estates. They had made quite a fortune in the brewing business. “I suppose I should be grateful to him, then.”
He did not feel grateful, no matter if the fellow filled his whole larder. He did not care for the fond way Laura spoke of their kind neighbour. Might his cousin’s fortune-hunting widow have her eye on a fresh matrimonial victim?
That would never do.
What a disturbing encounter!
Laura’s fingers fumbled as she tied on her apron. Prior to Ford’s return, a stubborn corner of her heart had nursed the foolish hope that she would find him still the same eager, amiable man she’d once known.
But the cold, severe creature who’d confronted her seemed quite capable of turning his back on anyone who became an encumbrance or an obstacle. At first she’d questioned the flashes of hostility she glimpsed behind his mask of aloof restraint. After all, she’d never done anything but free him from an inconvenient obligation to her. Was he angry with her for marrying his cousin? What choice had he left her?
And why on earth had he tried to kiss her?
Laura wished she had some private time to puzzle it out, but at present she had her hands full trying to prevent Cook from having hysterics.
The poor woman was well on her way. “Lackaday! How am I to put a fit meal on the table for the new master with the larder so bare? Why did he not send word he was coming so we could have prepared things decent?”
Laura wondered that herself. Did Ford enjoy setting the household in an uproar and her life in turmoil?
“Don’t fret.” She patted Cook on the arm and tried to reassure them both. “His lordship has been away for seven years and finally come to the end of a long journey. Little wonder he wanted to get home without delay. Besides, he says he’s very hungry, so he isn’t likely to care what we put in front of him as long as it fills his belly.”
“He complained about spicy food, too,” Belinda piped up from the hearth, where she was adding a few scraps of coal to the fire. “So I doubt he’ll mind plain fare.”
Cook fanned her ruddy face with her hands, but seemed to be recovering her composure. “We do have the rest of Mr Crawford’s trout and there’s plenty of sprouts and carrots in the cellar. That still isn’t much of a meal.”
“I promised his lordship dinner within the hour,” Laura muttered. “We have lots of eggs, haven’t we? What about a batter pudding? I’ll have Mr Pryce open the wine cellar. If we ply his lordship with enough to drink, he may not notice what he’s eating.”
“Have Mr Pryce fetch me a bottle of brandy while he’s at it.” Cook grabbed a copper mixing bowl and a long wooden spoon. “If I hurry, I can poach some pears for the sweet course.”
Having finished stoking the fire, Belinda snatched a basket from its peg by the cellar door. “I’ll go fetch the pears and vegetables.”
For the better part of an hour, they chopped, stirred, filleted and fried. Meanwhile, Mr Pryce fetched bottles from the wine cellar, unlocked the silver chest and supervised Susannah as she set the dining table.
With only ten minutes to spare before the meal, Laura herded her sisters up the servants’ stairs for a quick change of clothes.
“This is so loose in the bust,” complained Belinda as she donned a gown that had once been Laura’s. “If we must dress for dinner from now on, I’ll have to take it in.”
Susannah brushed one red-brown curl around her fingers. “Now that Ford has come back, perhaps we can all have new gowns that won’t need to be let out or hemmed up or mended.”
Her sister’s delight at Ford’s return made Laura’s tightly suppressed feelings boil over. “Why should Lord Kingsfold spend money on new gowns for us?”
Susannah set down the hairbrush, then turned to fasten the buttons on the back of Belinda’s gown. “Perhaps so his new sisters-in-law won’t look shamefully shabby at your wedding. You are going to marry him, aren’t you? When Binny and I caught the two of you in the drawing room, I thought he must have proposed.”
“Proposed? What nonsense!” Laura turned away from her sisters, to hide her foolish blushes. “That would be the last thing on his mind, I’m sure. He hasn’t set eyes on me in seven years and he didn’t want to marry me then. Nothing about me has improved in the meantime.”
Back then theirs had been a fairly equal match. She’d been a young lady of good family, though limited prospects. he’d