Free Ruth Langan by Blackthorne Page B

in the care and education of the boy.
    As he approached he could hear Minerva’s voice.
    “I thought Master Bennett would be more comfortable in a chair than on one of these benches.” The young servant hastily arranged pillows to cushion Bennett’s seat and back, then settled one quilt over his lap and another around his shoulders as the stable boy set him down.
    The two stable hands doffed their hats to Lord Stamford and hurriedly returned to their chores.
    “I’m so glad you agreed to join us, Bennett.” Olivia paused beside his chair. “There’s something soothing about the sounds and scents of a garden. Don’t you agree, Minerva?”
    “Yes, miss.” The servant seemed tense and edgy, not at all certain she had done the right thing. She hovered behind Bennett’s chair like a mother hen.
    Both women looked up when a dark shadow fell over them.
    “Well, well, Miss St. John.” Quenton was positively scowling by the time he made his way across the garden and confronted her. “You’ve given poor Mistress Thornton heart palpitations.”
    “Whatever for?”
    “For bringing my brother out here without her permission.”
    “But I asked Bennett, and he said he wanted to join us.”
    “And just how did he do that?”
    “The same way anyone would.” She turned to the young man, who huddled inside his quilts as though it were the dead of winter. “Bennett, do you wish to be here?”
    He looked from his brother to the young woman, then hesitantly nodded his head.
    She turned to Quenton with a smile.
    But instead of admitting his error, his scowl deepened. He glanced around. “Where is the lad who is supposed to be under your watchful care?”
    “Liat will be here any minute now. I expect he’s skipping along the path. I encourage him to skip, hop, jump and run whenever he is outdoors.”
    “You do? And why is that?”
    “Because I found him much too pale and subdued when I first arrived. Children need to run and frolic in the fresh air. And they need to shout once in a while, to exercise their lungs. Don’t you agree, Bennett?”
    The young man seemed surprised to be included again. Gathering his wits, he gave a half smile and nodded.
    “You see?” Olivia’s smile widened. “It’s a shame our English summers are so short. But we just have to make the most of them. I’ve been trying to keep Liat outdoors from late morning until early evening. I find he’s sleeping better. And his appetite has certainly increased.” She turned to Bennett. “You might want to do the same. It’s amazing what a little fresh air can do.”
    Quenton felt his temper rising. “It was my grandfather’s belief that fresh air can also bring chills, Miss St. John.”
    “My parents never subscribed to that theory, Lord Stamford. In fact, they saw to it that I was raised in fresh air. Mum said I often took my naps under the shade of a tree while she and Papa sketched and studied the nearby plants. They allowed me to accompany them on climbing expeditions as soon as I was old enough to toddle after them. I don’t recall ever having a chill.”
    “Then you are fortunate indeed, to have been blessed with robust health, Miss St. John.” Quenton’s frown remained. “But my concern is with a brother whose health is...fragile.”
    “My point exactly.” She shot him that dazzling smile that always seemed to do strange things to his heart. “What possible harm could there be in enjoying a pleasant afternoon in the garden?”
    “The harm is...”
    “Ma‘am! Ma’am!” Liat’s excited cries had Olivia racing headlong across the garden, with Quenton and Pembroke in hot pursuit.
    “What is it? What’s wrong?” Olivia cried when she spotted the lad on his knees on a grassy walkway.
    “Look, ma’am. A butterfly.” He pointed to a cluster of crimson roses. Amid the petals could be seen a gentle flutter of pale wings in exquisite shades of iridescent pink and lavender.
    “Well, Liat. You are fortunate indeed.” Olivia