There was an awkward silence. And then Richard said hesitantly, “Lord Collins is readin’ his newspaper, ma’am.”
And he was so focused on his reading that he couldn’t hear a greeting? Not from her, anyway.
“Good morning, Father,” she said, moving past his chair and into the one she usually used near Edwin’s end of the table.
“Did you say yes to the earl?” he suddenly barked.
Startled, she dropped her napkin. “I did.”
At first, he didn’t answer. Her throat tightened, her eyes stung, and she felt like a fool. She hadn’t cried in so long; she wasn’t about to give her father the satisfaction.
“I thought you’d learned your lesson,” he ground out. “This man has the power to treat you far worse than the first.”
“I’ll be careful. Thank you for your concern.”
He grunted his response.
Well, what had she expected? She managed his entire household, and now she was leaving him. He had a housekeeper, of course, but he never wanted to deal with her. Now he’d have to—or Blythe would. That was the only reason he was angry.
She was going to have her freedom at last, like any daughter would expect. That was what she’d wanted for so many years, even if it hurt others in her family.
“Yer usual breakfast, Mrs. Blake?” Richard asked.
“Yes, please.”
He filled her plate from the buffet, then set it before her. She knew he’d placed everything where it belonged: eggs toward the north of the plate, toast to the east, the meat to the south?—
“Do we have bacon this morning, Richard?”
“Pheasant, ma’am, from yer brother’s shootin’ party.”
“Good, thank you.”
“Don’t sound too pleased with yourself,” her father said. “You’re making a foolish mistake.”
She cocked her head, and said dryly, “The pheasant is too gamy?” Had she thought herself past the worst of her father’s resistance?
“That will be all, Richard,” Lord Collins barked.
She heard the servant leave, closing the far door behind him. More footsteps approached from the front hall, mixed with Blythe’s chirping laughter and the deep voices of Edwin and Lord Knightsbridge. She couldn’t decide if she was relieved or frustrated at the interruption.
“Good morning, Mrs. Blake, Lord Collins,” said Lord Knightsbridge, sounding excessively cheerful.
“Good morning, my lord,” she said softly.
Just hearing his voice made her think:Will we leave today? Will I finally start my own journey, my own life?
Something slammed on to the table, and she jerked.
“You are doing a terrible thing, Knightsbridge,” said her father.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This wasn’t the way to explain the news to her brother and sister.
“Father, what are you talking about?” Blythe asked, sounding both nervous and good-natured, an interesting balancing act. “Lord Knightsbridge is our guest.”
“A guest who takes advantage of innocent women?—”
“Father!” Audrey interrupted. “Nothing underhanded has happened. Lord Knightsbridge and I?—”
