Alex returned her smile and bowed his head at her declaration. But he was taken aback by Katherine’s words. His ready smile vanished when he looked to her. He knew for certain that it wasn’t going to be easy manipulating her. For a moment he sat frowning, sipping his wine. Silence is my best defense, he thought, silence and the lovely May-Jewel. But the longer he sat, the longer he stewed and the more anxious he became to capture May-Jewel’s attention again, to make her his ally. “So tell me,” he asked, “how goes the war in America?”
A frown darkened her features, and she grew flustered. “Why, I don’t understand it at all. Why should there be a war between our states? I don’t understand it. War and killing are such horrible subjects for women to ponder, don’t you think?”
Behind his waxen smile, Alex winced. Of course that wasn’t a topic to be discussed with women, but the wine he was consuming was affecting his thoughts. “I do apologize for offending your sensitive nature,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “It’s a man’s world and one tends to forget how delicate women are.”
“Yes, let’s not talk of war,” May-Jewel offered as she readily accepted his apology.
To make up for his blunder, Alex decided to try another way to win May-Jewel over. Seeing that Katherine’s attention was on Charles as he approached the table with a tray of Black Buns, scones and shortbreads, he pressed his wine glass to his lips and commanded her deep purple eyes to his in silent seduction.
Eyes widening with interest, May-Jewel returned his gaze and tried to quiet the excitement that suddenly awakened in her heart. A slight smile tugged at her mouth as she turned her gaze from him onto the table in feigned coyness.
But as abruptly as Alex had begun his flirtation, he ended it, turning his attention to a plate of Brandy wafers and refilling his glass yet again.
Embarrassed at the pleasure she derived from his sensual stare, May-Jewel blushed as she feigned interest in the bun placed on her plate.
“This is good. What’s it called?” she asked of Charles.
“It be Black Bun.”
“Ummm it’s interesting, a fruit cake wrapped in pastry. What will they think of next?” She took another bit and nodded in approval.
Further talk between the three then became light and superficial and soon stopped altogether as Alex brooded and the sisters grew increasingly tired from the day’s events. The quiet was broken only by Alex emptying and refilling his glass. The meal was soon finished, and the three withdrew to the sitting room.
Katherine watched as Charles entered with the tea cart. A slight frown came across her features as she studied Charles’ face. Finally the memory of him slammed against her heart with a force as turbulent as waves against a sea wall. She wanted to throw her arms around him as she so often did as a child. Reaching forward, she touched his gnarled hand and looked into his craggy face. “Charles, don’t you remember me?”
The old man looked at her from the corner of his eye. For a moment, he saw the fragile nymph child that used to dance before him when he entered her cottage with supplies and an occasional treat, a string of crystallized sugar. Though it had been years since those treks to the downside of the manor were necessary, the old man remembered as if it were only that morning. Sir Robert himself had scheduled the deliveries to his mistress and her baby and stood strangely unemotional as he listened to reports of their well-being. Now that child had blossomed into a woman and was to run the manor. But how could he accept her when he had vowed to be loyal to the other woman, the true mistress of Wistmere? Charles nodded his gray head and dryly replied, “Aye, Mistress. I remember ye.”
The tea was poured in silence. He didn’t raise his eyes again to Katherine. Instead he turned to May-Jewel and abruptly said, “Ye bed chamber be ready,” and left the room.
Perplexed and hurt over the old man’s reaction, Katherine watched Charles leave. Welcome home, she thought crestfallen. The servant’s cold censure matched the atmosphere of the manor and robbed Katherine of the recognition and respect that she craved. Acceptance was important, even from Charles. Endearing memories of the armored knight of her childhood played through her mind. He had been more than a friend whose shoulder she had often cried on. He had been more like a father. She held back the tears.
Just then Charles was back in the doorway. “Excuse me. I’m announcin’ the vicar.” And he stood aside to let the gentleman enter.
“Ah, Vicar Hawes,” Alex greeted, his hand extended as he approached the newcomer.
“Mister Fleming,” the young man said, shaking his hand. He then noted the two women, and he smiled.
“Welcome.” Alex continued, “We’re glad of the company.” He directed the vicar into the room. “May I introduce the new heiresses of Wistmere, Mistress May-Jewel Belwood from Boston and our own Mistress Katherine St. Pierre.”
The vicar bowed first to May-Jewel and when he bowed to Katherine, he caught the look of sadness on her face, her eyes glistening unnaturally with unshed tears. “How do you do?” he said. “I am most pleased to meet you.”
Katherine looked up into the darkest brown eyes she had ever seen, the darkest and the most open, the most approachable. His lips were parted in a pure and innocent smile as
