Free The Mistress of Tall Acre by Laura Frantz Page B

address. Her father had been a general. His rank meant very little, for it had been bought, unlike Seamus Ogilvy’s. “Glynnis has gone to fetch you a toddy.”
    “I won’t refuse you.”
    Still, his face showed surprise. She knew why. Despite their lack, Three Chimneys reeked of spirits. Her father was known for the finest pipes of Madeira and East Indian rum throughout Roan. What the British hadn’t drunk, their hired man Henry had hidden away. For medicine and wounds and a wee dram or two.
    Seamus shed his cloak and draped it over a chair back before sitting opposite her. The fire sputtered, sending a colorful spray of sparks past the andirons. His hat and gloves he placed near the heat, much as Curtis used to do. She missed that homey touch, the comfort and security a man’s presence wrought. She opened her mouth to welcome him home. But this wasn’t his home. And this wasn’t their wee daughter.
    He sat back, eyes never leaving Lily Cate. “How is she?”
    Missing you , she wanted to say. But she couldn’t, not honestly. Just this morning Lily Cate had cried because their time together was nearing an end. “She’s well. We went riding this afternoon.”
    “Riding?” His brow lifted. “She won’t get near a horse.”
    “She rode with me on one of Tall Acre’s very gentle mares. But I’m afraid she got quite worn out.”
    “Wise to go today. The fair weather’s spent.”
    Glynnis returned, bearing the toddy and a tray. Biscuits layered with the ham he’d provided were stacked beside a sliced apple on a pewter plate. He smiled his thanks, remembering her name. Flushing like a girl, Glynnis curtsied, leaving Sophie somewhat bemused. So the master of Tall Acre could even charm the help when he wanted, ensuring unending hospitality to come.
    “You spoil me, the both of you.” His glance widened to take Sophie in.
    There was an alarming lilt to his voice she’d not heard before. And that smile . . . It eased all the rugged, weathered lines of him, giving her a nearly forgotten glimpse of the young man he’d been. Confident, even cocky. Self-assured yet unchallenged. He’d had little to do with her back then, before she went to Williamsburg. The war had mellowed and matured him like fine wine in Three Chimneys’ cellar.
    He seemed entirely too high-spirited tonight, having ridden untold miles in the cold to get here. She braced herself for some announcement, some startling revelation. Was he merely betrothed? Or had he left his bride at Tall Acre before coming here?
    “How were your travels?” she blurted, wanting an end to her misery.
    “Uneventful,” he said, reaching for the toddy.
    She stared at him, heart in her throat.
    He returned her stare. “You’re looking at me like I just lied.”
    “I hardly call a bride uneventful.”
    “A— what ?” His amused astonishment brought the fire to her cheeks. “I don’t remember saying anything about a bride.”
    “Little jugs have big ears.” At his quizzical expression, she rushed on. “You’d do well to conceal your personal correspondence if you’d like to keep it that way.”
    He sat back and watched the steam curl round the tankard’s rim, mulling her words. “Meaning my maid does more than dust my desk.”
    “I don’t mean to meddle but thought you’d want to know.” She forged ahead. There was simply no way to dance around it. “Lily Cate believes you went away to wed someone.”
    He took a long drink, leaving her hanging. “I went to Bracken Hall to see someone wed. A fellow officer. I was best man. It was, as I said, uneventful.”
    She rested her cheek against Lily Cate’s hair as a strange euphoria rushed in. He was not wed. Not taken. Just looking annoyed that she had imagined it. She gave the rocking chair a gentle push with her foot, wondering what Lily Cate’s reaction would be upon waking.
    Lord, let her be glad to see him again.
    “Have you ever considered a post as a governess?” He reached for a biscuit but