His abrupt question disturbed her. She took a moment to regroup her thoughts.
“I’m sorry… if you’d rather not answer-”
“No, it’s all right.” She took a sip of her champagne and was pleasantly surprised by the delicate flavor. “This is very good.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
She liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. His skin looked leathery, dried out from too much sun and wind. She felt an instant’s longing to see the land where he’d grown up then quickly began speaking in an effort to erase the treacherous thought. “My parents were in London attending a concert two years ago, during the Blitz. My mother didn’t want to go, but my father insisted. He was not about to let those filthy Nazis, as he called them, stop him from living his life. They were waiting for a taxi when the sirens sounded. On their way to the shelter a bomb landed just down the street. They were both killed instantly.”
She sat staring down at her glass while the silence seemed to stretch into hours.
Then Earl Monroe gently covered her hand with his. “I’m sorry. That must have been real tough.”
She gulped. “It was.”
The door swung open and crashed against the wall, startling them both. Earl snatched his hand away, while Elizabeth sat up straight, trying to look as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.
Martin shuffled into the room, bearing a tray upon which a large soup tureen balanced at a somewhat precarious angle. “Soup, madam!” he shouted, making her jump.
“Thank you, Martin.” Elizabeth eyed the priceless tureen, wondering what on earth had possessed Violet to entrust it to his unsteady hands. “You may put it down here.”
Quickly she cleared a space for it near her plate, then watched in trepidation as Martin advanced one uncertain step at a time, bearing his burden as if it were a sacrifice being offered to the gods.
Holding her breath, she waited for him to reach the table, ready to spring into action should his step falter. When it happened, she was unprepared for it after all.
Martin tilted the tray just a fraction, but it was enough to start the heavy tureen sliding toward the edge. Elizabeth froze, certain that her butler would be badly scalded by the hot soup. Before she had time to let out her breath, however, Earl had leapt from his chair and somehow rounded the table in time to grab the tureen by its handles.
“We’ll just put it down here, sir,” he said and deposited the precious china pot safely onto the white linen tablecloth without spilling a drop.
Martin’s eyebrows twitched a few times. “I say, sir. Magnificent catch. Couldn’t have done better myself. Make a good silly mid-on proud, that one would.”
Catching sight of Earl’s puzzled look, Elizabeth murmured, “Cricket term.” She turned to Martin, who was still gazing at the major with something like awe on his face. “You may leave the soup, Martin. I will serve it myself.” She waited for Earl to reseat himself, still with a bemused expression on his face.
He sat down heavily on his chair as Martin shuffled slowly out of the room. “Silly mid-on?”
“Yes, it’s a cricket fielder’s position.”
“Silly mid-on? For real?”
Elizabeth nodded. “They have a silly mid-off, too.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“I swear I’m not.” She didn’t think this was a good time to explain all the intricacies of one of England’s favorite pastimes. “Would you care for some soup?”
He obediently held out his plate. “This is one game I’ve got to see.”
“Well, I’m afraid you might have a long wait.” She carefully ladled pale green soup into the deep bowl. “The men who usually play cricket on the green have all been called up. I suppose the army might have a game now and then, though I imagine if they do it would be played at the camp.”
“That’s too bad.” Earl put his plate down in front of him and eyed it suspiciously. “I’d like to have seen a cricket match.”
“Well, maybe we can arrange something one of these days.” She watched him take a cautious sip of the soup and was pleased when his expression cleared. “I trust the soup is to your liking?”
He flashed a grin at her. “The soup is very much to my liking. Thanks.”
She quickly transferred her attention to her own dish.
“You must have been lonely growing up in this huge house,” he said, after a few moments of companionable silence.
She laid down her spoon and dabbed at her mouth with her serviette. “Not really. We had more servants then, and the house was always full of guests. My mother entertained a lot. Though I often wished I could have gone to school instead of having a private tutor. I think I missed a lot.”
He studied her with a grave expression. “I guess you did. What about now? This can’t be much of a life for a woman like yourself, living practically alone in a mansion.”
“Oh, I have plenty of companionship. Violet, Martin, and Polly are like family, and I have my various committees, and there are always people coming in from the village for advice or help with a problem. Though I must admit, I have been thinking lately of adopting a couple of dogs for extra companionship. There was always a dog around when I was growing up.”
The major smiled. “Didn’t you ever want to break free of all this and go see the rest of the world?”
She laughed, not quite hiding the bitterness. “Oh, I did all that. I traveled fairly extensively and lived in London for several years until I divorced my husband.”
He sounded surprised when he said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were married.”
“Almost nine years. Harry is a compulsive gambler. When my parents died I inherited everything. We moved down here to take over the management of the estate, and Harry managed to lose most of my inheritance in a little over a year. I divorced him before he could lose the Manor House as well.”
“Sounds like you were well rid of him.”
“Maybe, but it’s such a dreadful stigma to be divorced. Especially when one is the lady of the manor. I lost the respect of the villagers. It didn’t help that their new guardian is a woman. If it hadn’t been for the fact that it’s wartime and most of the able-bodied men are serving abroad, I would have had a much harder time of it.”
“Surely in this day and age people are more understanding about divorce. It happens all the time now.”
“In your country, perhaps. Possibly even here, in the large cities. But in a small village like Sitting Marsh, divorce is still frowned upon. It has taken me many months to earn back the respect of the villagers. Even now, there are one or two who look upon me with disdain.”
“Surely not. You are every inch a lady, and I drink to that.” He raised his glass with a flourish, warming the chill in her heart.
“Thank you. I appreciate the kind words, spoken by a true gentleman.” She tapped the rim of his glass with her own.
She was still staring into his eyes when the door swung open, and Polly rushed in.
The housemaid stopped short at the sight of madam and the American gazing at each other across the candlelit table. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Am I interrupting something?”
Feeling as if she’d been caught cheating at cards, Elizabeth cleared her throat. “What are you doing here, Polly? Why haven’t you gone home?”
Polly shrugged, then stacked the empty soup bowls into the tureen with a loud clatter that made Elizabeth wince. “Violet asked me to stay and help out with the dinner, m’m. I was wondering if you’d arranged for my lift home tonight? Violet said you didn’t want me riding my bicycle.” She sent a sly look at Earl, who looked at Elizabeth for clarification.
“Oh, yes, of course.” Elizabeth gave Earl an apologetic smile. “I wonder if perhaps one of your men could take Polly home? I hate to ask, but with a suspected murderer running around loose in the woods, I really don’t think it’s safe for her to ride home alone on her bicycle.”
She saw the shock in his eyes and was immediately contrite. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Major. I assumed you’d heard-”
He shook his head. “I’ve heard nothing. I’ve been gone all day, and after I checked in at the base I came straight back here.”
“It was a land girl,” Polly told him with relish. “They reckon that German what escaped yesterday killed her.
