“But he’s one of the most suitable candidates, Thea,” Lord Willowdale said. “He is a Baron and quite wealthy, and close to your age. I know you could learn to, if not love him, then have some affection for him. I know he would love you.”
“I am not certain as to why I do not care for him,” Miss Miller went on, shaking her head. “I feel dirty every time he looks at me.”
“He would make a far better match for you than some old Earl with children your age.”
To Liam’s ears, it sounded as if Lord Willowdale were growing angry, but as he could not see his face, Liam could not be sure.
“Already planning to renege on your promise to let me assist in finding a husband?” Miss Miller asked, growing annoyed in her turn. “That did not take long.”
“Of course I am not going back on my promise,” Lord Willowdale said, his voice rising. “But you are not making this task easy at all.”
Thea pushed her plate away and stood up. “Nor do I plan to, brother. Good afternoon.”
Storming from the huge dining room that could easily hold a hundred guests, Miss Miller slammed the door behind her. Liam heard Lord Willowdale mutter what sounded like curses under his breath, as he pushed his own half-eaten meal away. Though he did not leave the table, he drummed his fingers on its top, obviously irritated. Liam dared not leave to follow Miss Miller in case his master needed him.
Sure enough, Lord Willowdale turned in his chair and snapped his fingers at Liam. “Fetch me paper, ink and a quill pen.”
“Right away, My Lord.”
Liam bowed, then left the dining room to obey, heading to the butler’s small office not far from the kitchen. Returning with the requested items, he stood once more against the wall as Lord Willowdale wrote on the paper. Finishing his writing, he folded it, then put it in his pocket and rose from the table. Lord Willowdale then left the dining room, permitting Liam and the other footmen to begin clearing the table.
Deep in his thoughts and worries that Miss Miller would marry another, Liam barely listened to the conversation around him as he worked, and hardly noticed when his mother, Mary, entered until she stood beside him. Busy cleaning the silver, he started in surprise to find her at his elbow.
“Mother,” he said, bending to kiss her cheek. “Are you well?”
“Aye, lad,” she replied. “I didnae see ye in the servants’ quarters breakin’ yer fast this mawnin’. I came to check on ye. Hae ye been eatin’, son?”
Liam shook his head. “I have been attending Lord Willowdale and Miss Miller.”
“I cannae hae ye wastin’ away, lad. Ye must eat.”
Striding firmly toward the butler who was busy inspecting the footmen’s work, Liam heard her say, “Wi’ ye permit me lad tae come wi’ me, Mr. O’Bannon? Me foolish bairn dinnae ken how tae care fer himself these days.”
The butler nodded gravely. “He has been working quite hard, Mrs. Carter. Yes, take him with you.”
Obedient, Liam followed his mother to the servants’ wing of the great house and to a big chamber where the household staff ate their meals. Several other footmen and cleaning maids sat around the big table, dining on their midday meal. The maids eyed Mary uneasily, as though caught idling without her permission. Pushing Liam toward the end of the room where they could talk in private, Mary fetched both of them plates of cold roast, wedges of cheese and hard black bread.
“Noo, lad.” She took a chair across from him, glancing down the table to make sure none could overhear. “Whet be botherin’ ye?”
Discovering himself famished once the foods’ odors reached his nose, Liam stuffed his mouth full of bread and cheese while Mary ate more delicately. She had plaited her blonde hair, spotted with grey, into a braid and pinned it atop her head. Her sharp blue eyes watched him from her narrow face. Always a strong woman, she had risen in the Willowdale household over the years from a simple cleaning maid to the head housekeeper.
When he could speak, Liam said in a low voice, “Lord Willowdale is pressuring Miss Miller to marry.”
Mary scowled. “Sae that be whet be stuck in ye. Ye ken better, Liam. I love the lord and lady like me own bairns, but ye cannae marry the lass. Ye must ferget these mad notions ‘o yers.”
Liam dropped his eyes to his plate. “I cannot, Mum,” he said softly. “I have tried and tried. I love her so much.”
Mary sighed. “Perhaps it be best if ye left the household, lad. Find work else where. Get away from her and this place.”
“No.” Liam’s heart ripped wide open at the very idea of never seeing Miss Miller again, breaking into a cold sweat. He swallowed hard, his stomach in knots. “Please do not suggest that, Mum. Not ever.”
“Whet ye gonna dae when the lass marries and gaes away?” Mary asked. “She must marry to please her family.”
Leaning his elbows on the table, Liam folded his hands and leaned his brow against them. “I do not know,” he whispered. “Maybe I should tell her how I feel.”
“Nay.” Mary’s voice was firm. “Dinnae confuse the lass. I ken ye both were fond ‘o each other when ye were young, but she cannae return yer love, lad.”
Liam raised desperate eyes to his mother. “Yes, she can. It is possible for us to marry. I heard Lord Willowdale tell her she can choose her own husband. If she knows how much I love her, she may choose me.”
