Free Come Midnight by Veronica Sattler Page A

... we do?"
    "We do, indeed." The two had been sitting side by side on a window seat in the schoolroom, with Andrew's injured leg propped on a chair amid some pillows. Now Caitlin scooted off the seat and knelt before the child. She took his small hand in hers.
    "Andrew," she said, meeting his anxious eyes, "ye cannot think yer mother was a wicked person, now, can ye?" She held her breath, suddenly wondering if the question were wise.
    She also hoped Andrew didn't notice her let it out in relief when he shook his head and smiled at her. Smiled with his whole face. The blue eyes crinkled at the corners, and his dimples deepened, just like his—
    She cut off the thought; his father was already in her thoughts more than she liked. No sense inviting the devil— Ach! The man has me worried, and no mistake! If it weren't for the lad—
    Again, Caitlin throttled her thoughts. "Have we answered yer question, then?" she asked Andrew softly.
    "Yes, thank you, Caitlin." Andrew looked thoughtful as she rejoined him on the window seat. "Caitlin .. . ?"
    "Aye, lad?"
    "Why is it all right to call you 'Caitlin'? Mama said I must call my other governess 'Miss Murch.' She said it wasn't"—Andrew paused, his brow furrowed in thought—"wasn't proper to call a governess by her Christian name."
    Caitlin smiled. She was hardly a "proper" governess. Not that that had mattered to Lord Lightfoot He'd asked if she could read and cipher. When she told him she could, he'd pronounced her the lad's new governess—just like that! Ach, he was a strange one, he was. Aye, strange . . . and he frightens me out of my wits! The child's tug on her sleeve pulled Caitlin back to the present. "Well, ye see, lad," she said, "there are all sorts o' people in the world. Some are ... Christian-name people ... d'ye know, like yer friend Jeremy..."
    "He's my onliest bestest friend," Andrew put in.
    She nodded. "And ithers who are family-name people ..."
    "Like Miss Murch?"
    "Aye, like Miss Murch ... and the bishop when he comes t' call." She wasn't certain Anglican bishops did this, but it seemed a safe bet, given the importance of Andrew's family. "Now, meself," she went on, "I'm a Christian-name sort... most o' the time, at least. That means, lad, that if I heard ye Miss O'Brienin' me, I'd likely faint dead away!"
    She looked at him wide-eyed, clutching his shoulders in an exaggerated show of seeking reassurance. "And we couldn't have that, now, could we?"
    He shook his head, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
    "I mean," she went on with a straight face, "there I'd be, laid out on the carpet"—she gestured broadly at the floor with a sweep of her arm—"as if someone had popped me a facer!" Andrew covered his mouth as the giggle emerged. "And ye'd be callin' for a footman t' fetch the vinaigrette and hartshorn, all the day long! Well, we simply cannot have it So 'tis Caitlin, me boyo." She winked at him and grinned. "Caitlin, the live-long day!"
    "Oh, Caitlin," Andrew told her between giggles, "Jeremy isn't my onliest bestest friend anymore. Now you're my bestest friend, too!"
    ***
    Adam returned early from his club, no further along in his search for clues to Appleby's whereabouts. He'd had a throbbing headache since rising that morning. A legacy from the night before, when he'd polished off a bottle of brandy. Not that it had done any good. The confirming opinions of four highly recommended physicians, including Prinny's own, hadn't been changed by getting foxed. Andrew would never walk again, and no amount of liquor could blot that truth from his mind.
    Hoping to banish his despairing mood, he headed straight for the schoolroom. The time spent with his son that morning had been the singular bright spot in his day. It had also reminded him how little he knew his only child. He vowed to remedy that—starting now.
    As he drew near the room on the third floor, he heard giggles .... A child's giggles ... and a female's.
    The schoolroom door was partially