Free Ruth Langan by Blackthorne

“You know of agrimony?”
    “A little. My grandfather thought it an excellent cure for his ailing back.”
    “Very wise of your grandfather.” Olivia’s smile widened as she directed her words to her young charge. “You see, Liat, herbs like agrimony can be helpful for many things. For healing wounds. Even for curing a naughty liver.”
    “A better cure might be to give up drinking spirits,” Quenton said dryly.
    She shook her head. “Papa used to say that a nip of spirits at the end of a day warmed a man’s blood, cleared his brain and soothed his soul.”
    He smiled. “I believe I would have liked your father.”
    “You would have had no choice.” Her eyes danced with unconcealed joy. “To know Papa was to love him.”
    “Then you are fortunate indeed, Miss St. John.” He loved the way she looked, her skin glowing, dark hair wind-tossed. Without thinking he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
    Her eyes widened at the intimacy of his touch. She felt the heat rush to her cheeks and knew he could see it. Once again she was reminded of the kiss they had shared in the darkened hallway. A kiss that had caused her a very sleepless night.
    “Miss St. John told me her parents are in heaven with my mama.” Liat looked very serious as he added, “Miss St. John said heaven is where the souls of the just go when they die.”
    “Did she?” Quenton’s manner turned suddenly brusque. He made a slight bow of his head to Olivia and the boy. “I’ll say good-day now. You’ll remember to stay clear of the cliffs.”
    Without another word he strode away, leaving the nursemaid and her young charge to stare after him.
    What had caused his abrupt change of mood?
    Was he thinking of Liat’s mother? Olivia thought of what the servant Edlyn had told her on her first night here.
    Or was it guilt that put the frown between his brows?
    She felt suddenly chilled. “Come, Liat. Let’s go inside and ask Cook for some tea.”
    As they made their way back to Blackthorne, she berated herself for the confusing feelings she experienced whenever Lord Stamford was near. He was, by all accounts, a heartless man. Yet, when she looked in his eyes, it wasn’t coldness she saw, but pain. And deep-seated sorrow. A sorrow that touched something in her. Though she didn’t understand why, she was drawn to him. And that knowledge greatly disturbed her.
    She shivered again and brushed aside all thought of him. Lord Quenton Stamford was unworthy of her pity or her concern. She would concentrate instead on Liat.
    “Come on.” She lifted her skirts and quickened her pace. “Last one home is a—” her eyes danced as she thought of Mistress Thornton’s constant insults to the servants “—beslubbering, beef-witted bugbear.”
    She and her young charge were giggling hysterically as they raced across the moor.

Chapter Six
     
     
    “H ello, Minerva.” Olivia paused on her way to the stairs.
    “Miss St. John.” Minerva, red curls bouncing, bobbed and curtsied as she stepped into the hall. “I was just going off to fetch Master Bennett some tea. The days are long for him, confined to his room and all.”
    “I’m just headed out to the gardens with Liat. Perhaps Bennett would like to join us.”
    The young woman shook her head. “Master Bennett hasn’t been out of the house in years, miss.”
    “Is his health so fragile that he can’t breathe the air?”
    “I don’t believe so. It’s just...” She paused, biting her lip and glancing around before continuing, “He becomes highly agitated if anything disturbs his routine. I think he feels safe in his room.”
    “Safe. I see.” Olivia glanced at the closed door, then came to a decision. “Papa used to say if we risk nothing, we gain nothing. I believe I shall invite Bennett along and leave the decision up to him.”
    Before the young servant could bar her way, she knocked, then entered Bennett’s room. He was seated in front of the window, hunched in a chair, a shawl