Free Spring Blossom by Jill Metcalf Page A

pleasant and appealing
natures. The question that now remained was that of one small scar
and how it so dramatically affected Margaret’s disposition.
Somehow, in his gut, Hunter knew there had to be more to this
so-called ‘accident’ than he had been told.
    He had seen much about Maggie the previous
evening that he did not remember and only snatches of the young
woman he had known. She was now stiffly in control, while she had
once been wonderfully carefree. She now smiled coldly, but he
remembered laughing warmth. She now tried to avoid him whereas, in
the past, she had continuously sought him out. But the wit was
still there and the intensity of emotions, as witnessed by her
fervor when talking about the horses. Her passions appeared to have
been channeled in a different direction, while once she had turned
to him with the hope of youth. She could obviously run the
household as if she had been born to order troops about, but he
sensed no happiness in her and he intended to find out why. He
wanted to see Maggie laughing and smiling and affectionate
again.
    The housekeeper was in the process of laying
out a multi-course breakfast when Hunter entered the massive dining
room. He smiled apologetically at the woman who was busy setting
platters on the sideboard.
    “My apologies. I hope I am not disrupting
your plans? I’m an early riser.”
    Anna Crosleigh was a thick-waisted woman of
perhaps sixty who possessed an unpleasant manner. Hunter had sensed
that she disliked him during his previous visit and he sensed it
again now. She was unfriendly and unsmiling. He recalled Alastair
explaining that he kept the woman employed only because she worked
like a horse and seemed to like it that way. Well, as far as Hunter
was concerned, a good day’s work did not compensate for having to
suffer her rudeness. On the heels of that thought, he considered
that perhaps Maggie had been associating too much with Anna! But
the smile that formed on his lips was not one of humor.
    “Things is ready,” Anna said before hastily
leaving the room.
    Hunter was pouring his first cup of coffee
when he heard the sound of running feet and, sighing, he frowned.
Obviously he was not to have a few moments alone with his coffee
and his thoughts.
    In the next moment Jennifer charged headlong
into the room, executing a well-controlled maneuver that prevented
her from bouncing into him or the sideboard. “Good morning!” she
chirped, grinning up at him while she reached for a plate. “Are you
up to facing the wicked Downing girls today?” She helped herself to
a slice of freshly baked bread and a substantial slice of smoked
ham before turning toward the table.
    Hunter smiled as he took his coffee to the
table and sat at the place he had occupied the previous evening. “I
can tolerate some better than others,” he responded lightly.
    The girl sat opposite him and reached for
her knife and fork. “I’m glad you get up early,” she said as she
began cutting into the meat. “Now we can chat.”
    Hunter suppressed the urge to laugh and
raised the cup to his lips. “And what would you like to chat
about?”
    “Well,” she drawled and then swallowed. “I
should tell you that Denise feels very badly about last night. She
told me so when I went to wake her this morning.”
    “Denise need not feel badly.”
    “She said they were not very polite; that
she and Margaret had another argument. But then, Denise and
Margaret are always arguing.”
    “Really?” He raised a dark brow in
question.
    Jennifer nodded her head and leaned toward
him, her scowl intense. “Denise is the only one who stands up to
Margaret,” she confided.
    Hunter leaned back in his chair and drew a
small cheroot from his pocket, curious as to what and how much this
child knew. “Why is that, do you think?”
    “No one else would dare defy Margaret. We
always do as she tells us, until her back is turned, and then we
let her go her own way.”
    “Is that what you do, Jennifer? Do