Free Carla Kelly by Libby's London Merchant Page B

this sick person, and suddenly fearful for the peace of her summer.
    She watched the chocolate merchant a moment more, smoothing the tangle of straight hair across his forehead. “Poor man,” she whispered. “How can you earn a living from a sickbed?”
    Libby hurried downstairs. The maid was lighting the last of the lamps and Libby was wondering about dinner when Joseph came into the room.
    He was tugging at his earlobe and she knew something was wrong. When the front door slammed open and she heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall, Joseph hurried to the other side of the room.
    The voice was loud now, an angry voice that made her stomach turn over, even as she flashed a reassuring smile at Joseph and held her hand out to him.
    “I forgot where I was, Libby,” he said simply.
    She nodded and kissed his cheek.
    The door banged open and Squire Cook stalked into the room, pointing his riding crop at Joseph.
    “If that simpleton trespasses on my land again, I’ll flog him,” he shouted. He pointed his whip at Libby. “And if I find you’re making sheep’s eyes at my son, I’ll flog you, too.”

5
    LIBBY gasped at his accusation and then burst into delighted laughter. She laughed until the tears came to her eyes, and then struggled to a seat as she dabbed at her face. She raised her smiling countenance to the squire’s fury and watched as his expression changed from rage to a certain mystified agitation.
    “Dear me,” she began when she could speak, “that was fearsome rude, but, sir, be aware that I have no evil designs on your son. I am convinced that he is an excellent physician, but I am equally sure that we would never suit.” She gestured toward the chair opposite her as Joseph retreated to the door. “Please have a seat and let us discuss this matter.”
    Joseph ducked out the door. For a moment, the squire wavered between rushing after him and taking the chair instead. He just stood where he was, jerked off his hat, and slapped it against his knee.
    “Dash it all, Miss Ames, doesn’t that chucklehead have any sense of boundary?”
    She gestured toward the chair again and he threw himself into it. The chair creaked and Libby held her breath, but it did not crack.
    “No, I fear he does not, Squire. I wish that he did, and I am equally sorry that his presence is such an agitation to you. I can only reassure you again that he is completely harmless.”
    The squire refused to be mollified. “That’s not the half of it. Do you know where I found him?”
    Libby shook her head. Candlow came into the room on tiptoe and set a tea tray at her elbow. She poured a cup for the squire, who frowned at it and then accepted some refreshment. He took one sip and then another. An expression less forbidding came into his eyes for the smallest moment, but then he recalled the matter at hand. He set down the cup with a decisive click.
    “Miss Ames, you cannot distract me with tea,” he said. “Your brother was in my horse herd again. Again! I always find him there.”
    “Surely he causes you no trouble, Squire.”
    He snatched up a biscuit from the tray she offered, and chomped down hard on it, glaring at her through bushy brows. “That is hardly the issue, Miss Ames, but trust someone of your sex to obfuscate the problem. He has no business among my herd.”
    Libby counted to ten in her head, poured another cup of tea for the squire, and handed it to him. “I cannot disagree with you, sir, but Joseph loves horses and you have a particularly fine herd. Certainly the best I have ever seen.” She took a sip of her tea and allowed that bit of mild flattery to settle in.
    The squire drank his tea and did not object when she offered him another biscuit.
    Libby watched him in silence, wondering to herself how it was that such a cantankerous old rip would have fathered such a good-natured son as the doctor. She was moved to empathy for Dr. Cook. I wonder, Doctor, did he bully you to ride to hounds? she thought. She