Free When I'm with You by Kimberly Nee

Martha, Katie.” Lord Marchand’s voice boomed out like a cannon ball across the library to make them all jump in unison. “And you too, although I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”
    Lucy’s cheeks burned even brighter as she dipped into a curtsey. “Lucy, m’lord.”
    â€œLucy…ah…” Marchand’s eyes narrowed. From a distance, they looked as dark as black pearls. He nodded in recognition. “You work with Mrs. North. What the deuce are you doing up here?”
    â€œStacking firewood, m’lord.” Lucy’s hands trembled as she tried to set another log on the stack. Katie flinched and Martha sucked in a sharp breath as the topmost log teetered and then toppled over. Lucy looked as if she was about to burst into tears as her carefully-created pyramid lost its balance and every last stick of wood crashed down from the grate to roll across the hearthrug.
    â€œBeggin’ your pardon, m’lord!” Lucy’s voice cracked to a shrill squeak as she dove in a fruitless attempt at stopping the cascade. The harder she tried, the worse the mess became. It wasn’t pretty, with wood spilling across the hearthrug and the grate upended. In her haste to mitigate the damage, she got caught up in her trailing hem and fell face-first into the fray. Katie flinched, embarrassed for the girl as the Earl stared down at her with a mixture of amusement and pity.
    She and Martha dropped their dust rags and hurried to help as Lord Marchand said, “There now, girl. Easy now. No harm done. It’s nothing but a bit of wood on the hearthrug. Nothing that cannot be fixed or swept up.”
    â€œI’m s-sorry, m’lord!” A thick sob wrapped about Lucy’s words as she glanced up and then back down almost as quickly. Katie knelt beside her, seeing the girl’s now fiery-red cheeks were wet and her hands shook so badly that the logs kept rolling off. She took the pieces from Lucy to stack herself, so they wouldn’t be there until the next century.
    â€œNo need for tears, Lucy,” she whispered, giving Lucy’s shoulder a squeeze as Martha rounded up a few more logs. “His Lordship isn’t such a tyrant that he’ll fire you for this.”
    â€œI dinna mean to make such a mess.” Lucy swiped at her cheeks with the backs of both hands. Leather creaked behind them—Lord Marchand making himself comfortable on his favorite sofa near the windows, no doubt—and Martha joined them at the hearth, her arms laden with stray firewood.
    â€œIt’s hardly a disaster,” Martha said, stacking her wood back on the grate. “By this afternoon, his Lordship will have forgotten all about it. Now, dry your eyes and get back to the kitchen before Mrs. North has kittens.”
    Lucy swiped at her face again, stacked the rest of the wood without incident and practically ran from the room. As soon as she was gone, Lord Marchand clicked his tongue against his teeth and muttered, “Foolish chit. Where’d North find that one?”
    Katie exchanged glances with Martha, who cleared her throat. “Was that directed at us, m’lord?”
    â€œWhat?” Marchand’s brow creased as he looked at them with bemusement. Then he shook his head. “No. Just thinking aloud.”
    Leather creaked again, and as she went back to her dusting, Katie watched him move from the sofa to the shelves. He plucked down a thin volume and tucked it beneath his arm. “I’ll be in the breakfast room.”
    Martha had moved on to clean the windows now. Sunlight gleamed through the sparkling panes, bounced across the beautiful Oriental carpets of purple, green and gold. Everything in the room gave the impression of being larger than life, from the floor-to-ceiling shelves lining two of the walls, to the wide polished columns that appeared to hold up the ceiling and the massive palmetto plants dotting the perimeter. It