The School Mistress (Emerson Pass Historicals 1) - Page 9

As the doctor was leaving, Lizzie came in with a tray of food. “Do you feel well enough to eat?” she asked.

“Always,” I said.

Lord Barnes instructed me to sit at a small round table with two chairs near the fire. A checkerboard occupied the center, but Lord Barnes moved it to the mantel to make room. Lizzie set the meal down as Jasper led me over to the chair all the while looking at me with a mixture of concern and disdain, as if my unfortunate incident had him worried about my abilities to teach a school full of students along with my general character.

“Lizzie, this smells delightful,” I said, hoping to sound sophisticated when all I wanted to do was wolf it down as fast as I could.

“Thank you.” Lizzie stood there, beaming at me. I had the distinct feeling that Lizzie wanted to be my friend.

Jasper cleared his throat. “That will be all, Lizzie. You may retire for the evening.”

“But what about clearing away the dishes?” Lizzie’s brows came together, making her pretty face surprisingly intimidating.

“I’ll take care of it,” Jasper said. From what I’d gathered thus far, other than his pursed lips, Jasper’s facial muscles weren’t capable of movement. His eyes, however, told the story of his mind. When they looked at Lizzie, I detected complex feelings of love, fear, impatience, and a need for control. Of what, I wasn’t sure. His own feelings or her obedience? How very English they all were.

Lizzie’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, as if she’d love nothing more than to smack his condescending mouth. “Yes, sir.” She made an exaggerated curtsy and then headed out with her head held high.

I exchanged a glance with Lord Barnes, who hovered near the fire. He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug and smiled.

Jasper set a short tumbler of brandy on the tray. I wasn’t in the habit of a brandy before or after supper—my family were lucky to have a meal, let alone a drink—but I had to admit the potent smell gave a hint of its warming abilities.

I thanked him. He nodded before moving away to stand on the other side of the room.

“May I sit with you, Miss Cooper?” Lord Barnes asked.

Strangely, this request made me flush with heat. “Please.”

He set a glass of brandy on the table before taking the chair opposite me. When he crossed one leg over the other, I noticed his fine black leather boots and the expensive wool material of his suit.

I crossed my ankles. These old boots tattled my tale too well.

“Please, eat,” Lord Barnes said. “We’ll talk after your stomach is full.”

I couldn’t resist any longer. As politely as I could, I scooped the savory stew into a spoon and took a bite that tasted of butter, garlic, and rosemary. To my embarrassment, a groan of ecstasy erupted from my chest.

Lord Barnes chuckled. “Lizzie’s chicken stew is enough to make a grown man weep with happiness.”

I nodded and wiped my mouth, then picked up the brandy and took a sip. Holy God, what poison was this that made my throat burn thus? I gasped, then coughed so hard that my eyes watered, and I had to clench my butt cheeks together to keep from tooting. The very last thing I needed was eruptions from my nether regions to escape in front of my new employer. Speaking of embarrassing body function, I wondered if I’d drooled while unconscious. Why, why, why had this happened?

Lord Barnes had scooted to the edge of his chair during my coughing fit, his brows knitted together. “Are you all right, Miss Cooper?”

“Yes, thank you. I’m not used to brandy. I had no idea it was awful.”

“It’s an acquired taste.” Damn those laughing eyes. They were most certainly laughing at me. Any attempt at acting sophisticated was now impossible. I’d embarrassed myself since the moment I entered this house. I decided to finish my meal in silence and without another sip of brandy.

I took another bite of a carrot so tender it melted on my tongue. A chunk of chicken was next. When had my chewing become so loud? I swallowed, self-conscious. Lord Barnes watched me with amusement mixed with apprehension.

“I’m fine now, Lord Barnes.”

“Are you quite sure? I can’t have you almost dying on me for the second time in one night.”

“I’m hardly dying despite your attempt to murder me with that foul liquid.”

He slapped the tabletop and laughed. “Miss Cooper, you’re nothing if not unexpected.”

Unexpected? I could say the same for him, I thought, as I shoved more stew into my mouth.

He put several more logs on the fire and returned to his chair, gazing into the flames with a reflective expression.

Tags: Tess Thompson Emerson Pass Historicals Historical
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