Free On Sparrow Hill by Maureen Lang Page A

just happened. It’s late. We’re both tired, perhaps too tired to behave properly.”
    “I agree I might not be behaving properly, but I don’t see any reason to be confused. You were the other half of what I must say was a most enjoyable kiss. What’s to be confused about two consenting adults?”
    A laugh came out that sounded a bit higher strung than she wished. “Where shall I start? Shall I remind you that I’m the granddaughter to the valet who served your grandfather? A valet’s granddaughter isn’t exactly a suitable follow-up to Lady Caroline Norleigh.”
    He grinned. “That’s hardly a convincing argument, Rebecca. Come now, class differences in today’s day and age?”
    “Not to you—but to your mother?”
    “She’s bound to wake up in the twenty-first century sooner or later.”
    Rebecca’s brain spun inside her head, twirling a dance set off by his words, his kiss, the look in his eye. Still, there was one obstacle she couldn’t ignore. “We’re not just two consenting adults. There’s a third party involved.”
    Now his brows fell to a frown. “You—you’re involved with someone else?”
    She nodded. “Yes, very much so.”
    He looked as though he might say something but held back. Instead, his gaze dropped and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sounds serious.”
    “It is.”
    “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. Do I . . . am I acquainted with him?”
    “I thought you were. I thought your father introduced Him to you some time ago.”
    When Quentin looked perplexed, Rebecca knew she couldn’t stall any longer. “It’s God, Quentin. I may work for you, but I serve Him.”
    “Ah,” he said. “And you believe God wouldn’t want you involved with me?”
    She shook her head. “It isn’t you. It’s that we want different things. I want to serve Him, and you . . .”
    “. . . don’t? Is that what you think?”
    “Do you? I don’t really know, Quentin. I know so little of you except what I’ve learned through your family history.”
    He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and looked at her again. “You define the rules, Rebecca. I’ll abide by them.”
    “Rules for a relationship we shouldn’t risk? Perhaps the best thing would be to forget this ever happened. Safest, you know?”
    “Safe, as in boring. As in missed opportunity.”
    She shook her head. “No, as in two lives still intact.”

10
    * * *
    Forgive me, Cosima, but I feel an alarming desire to host a good, old-fashioned temper tantrum, and I fear it is only here, in one of my private letters to you, that I shall find a safe place to reveal such inappropriate behavior. Mr. Truebody is a conundrum. I have learned already that he is difficult to please, having rewritten more than a few perfectly fine reports submitted to his office. Today he was beyond simply difficult; he was impossible. He arrived at Escott Manor to imply I am incompetent, as proven by having involved the constable over the matter of Katie MacFarland’s arrival.
    “Escott Manor Hospital for the Mentally Infirm is under my jurisdiction, Miss Hamilton,” said Mr. Truebody. Berrie found his voice especially grating today, its nasal tone harsher than ever. “My jurisdiction alone. Mr. Flegge has no responsibility—or I should say, no obligation —to spend his time searching for a family of one who obviously belongs exactly where she was left.”
    “It’s true Katie MacFarland was abandoned, Mr. Truebody,” Berrie said, “but evidently not by her entire family. There is a brother—”
    “Precisely why you should have brought this to my attention. To go beyond my office is inexcusable.”
    “I felt we should lose no time in trying to find Katie’s family, and with you away, the constable seemed the next obvious choice. We’ve also asked Duff Habgood to search for her family as he spreads the word about our school.”
    One of Mr. Truebody’s razorlike brows rose, leaving the other aimed downward. “Yes, you mentioned that plan, and I