Free A Prince for Aunt Hetty by Kimberly Truesdale Page B

about men and their tea. I always assumed they did not drink it except to be polite to women.”
    Now he chuckled. “One cannot always drink strong liquor.”
    “If they did, it would serve to explain some of the more questionable behavior I have seen in my lifetime.” Hetty took a sip of her tea while Rupert continued to chuckle. “And how did you learn to make a decent cup of tea, sir?”
    “Hmm...” he mused. “That is a short and very uninteresting story.”
    “And?” Hetty raised her eyebrow, prompting him to continue. She was curious about this man.
    “You really want to hear it?” He questioned.
    “I do. I know very little about you, Rupert, and I think I would like to know more.”
    “Well, then...” he began. “When I was no more than ten years old, I was a... well, I guess you could say companion... to a wealthy and well-known man. He was nearly always busy, so he set me to the tasks he didn't want to do. He was also very exacting, so I learned quickly after the first time he yelled at me about the awful cup of tea I had made.”
    “Yelled at you? Over tea? That seems a bit much for a child.”
    Rupert nodded. “I went straight to the nearest woman I could find – who happened to be the cook – and begged her to show me how to do it. God bless her kind soul. She took pity on me and patiently showed me all the steps. And also informed me just the way the master liked his tea.”
    “And who was this master?” Hetty asked, curious as to where and with whom Rupert Henderson had grown up.
    Rupert directed his gaze into the cup of tea in front of him, clearly uncomfortable. Two of the children saved him from answering, however, as they came bursting into the room.
    “Auntie! Auntie!” Stephen shouted and tugged at her dress.
    “It's snowing!” Agnes followed her brother into the room.
    Stephen wailed. “I was going to say that!”
    Hetty sensed tiredness and hunger in the young boy. In order to stave off the impending fight between brother and sister, she leaned down to Stephen's level and pretended she had not heard the news. “What did you want to tell me, my dear?”
    Stephen sniffled, only slightly mollified by the attention. “It's snowing out there.” He swiped a sleeve over his running nose. Hetty was glad to see the tears had stopped.
    “Snowing? I don't believe it!” Her feigned shock drew a watery smile from him.
    “It is! It is! Look!” He took her hand in his. Two steps brought them to the open door where Hetty could see small flurries of soft powder picking up. The other children were chasing after the flakes, sticking out their tongues to try and catch them. The snow wasn't thick enough yet for them to succeed, but they were taking great delight in trying. Stephen and Agnes ran back to join them, giggling and shouting as they went.
    Hetty stood near the open door, feeling the warmth of the room behind her and the chill of the winter air before her. As she took a deep breath of the fresh coldness, Rupert stepped up beside her. For a moment, the sights and sounds of the children melted away and Hetty was left with her awareness of the man beside her. Even without looking, she had a sense of the bulk of him, as he stood next to her in silence.
    Hetty tensed for a moment, wondering what she should say. They had been in the middle of a conversation when the children had interrupted. Should she pursue that? Should she say something about the children? Should she begin to talk about the weather? Topics of conversation flew in and out of her mind faster than the whirling flurry of the tiny flakes outside. None seemed to fit. And so the only thing she could do was remain silent.
    Rupert did the same. If he was thinking the same whirling thoughts, his outward demeanor gave no hint of it. He only stood there with his hands comfortably behind his back. Hetty took a surreptitious glance at him, but he did not seem to notice her at all. She looked out the door to the same place where his