The Rightful Lord (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 3) by Sahara Kelly (13 ebook reader .TXT) 📕

“I will. With joy in my heart.”

Evan’s head popped around the door. “Tea, anyone?”

Harry joined him. “Damn well hope so. This tray is heavy.” He walked in past Evan, grunting as he set down the large silver tray and its contents with a clatter.

“Yes, perfect.” Gwyneth flashed him a glance of thanks. “Come and see, you two. Tell me what you think.” She indicated the box of scrolls and both men walked over to investigate.

Harry nodded to Royce. “Nicely done. An excellent touch for a good idea.”

Royce nodded back. “Actually, most of it was Gabriel.”

At the mention of his name, Gabriel blushed. “Oh well, ’twas merely a thought that became an idea that became…well, this.” He waved his hand at the box. “It seemed we should give everyone something they could keep and show to their families. Something to pass along, if you know what I mean.”

“I do, Gabriel,” said Gwyneth, pouring tea. “And you have my thanks for such an excellent notion. I am half in love with it already.”

“Thank God,” said Jeremy from the door. “I’ve just spent half an hour rummaging in the attic to find ribbons.” He entered with an armful of ribbons, some on spools, some loose. “Will these do?” He wrinkled his nose at Gabriel. “Because if not, you can go and find more. I’m done with spider’s webs and dust.”

The laugh was general, the tea excellent, and the next hour passed quickly as Gwyneth signed every scroll and Gabriel was joined by Evan in tying a bow around each of them.

Royce, Jeremy and Harry argued about the presentation.

“I would rather have Lady Gwyneth pass out the scrolls from the terrace,” insisted Royce. “Asking her to wander around a muddy field is a bit much, given the numbers of people.”

“Well, I suppose so.” Harry nodded.

“Perhaps we should ask her. Lady Gwyneth…” Jeremy attracted her attention. “Would you rather pass out the scrolls from the terrace or walk around the bonfire with them?”

She looked up from her quill. “I’d like to walk around, but I would worry I’d missed somebody.”

“Good point.” agreed Jeremy. “We could set up a table quite easily, and you could pass out the scrolls, and one of us could jot down the name of the recipient. That makes sure nobody gets two, and also if anyone isn’t there they can get theirs later.”

Once this suggestion had been debated, discussed and finally agreed upon, Gwyneth—who had kept silent during the whole conversation—raised her head. “Er, might I ask…do we have a plan for if it rains?”

Silence fell.

Royce leaned forward and put his head in his hands with a groan. “We move to Jamaica.”

*~~*~~*

“Fine lad, that.” Mrs Barnsley looked over her teacup at Harry as he walked down to the bonfire.

She and Gwyneth were sharing an afternoon tray at the window overlooking the terrace, and hence the field where the mound of wood was reaching massive proportions.

“He is,” answered Gwyneth calmly. “And the others seem to like him as well. He has fit in with our little family very nicely.”

“Yer blessed indeed, m’Lady.” She put down her cup and saucer. “’Ow’s ‘e betwixt the sheets then?”

Gwyneth nearly sputtered seed cake over the tray. “Mrs B. I’m astonished you asked such a thing.”

“Why?” The old woman grinned at her. “I mebbe ancient, but I ain’t dead.”

“You know I can’t possibly answer that.” Gwyneth shook her head in amusement.

“’Aven’t tried ‘im out yet, then? C’mon, lass. I dunno ‘ow many years I got left. I’m relying on yer to keep ‘em interesting.”

“Sorry. Maybe you need some kittens around the house.”

Mrs Barnsley glanced at Darcy, who snoozed at Gwyneth’s feet. “Well, at least they’d earn their keep, ‘specially in the barn. Mice are all over the place right now. Our two moggies are fat as flawns.”

“Darcy works too,” pouted Gwyneth. “Why just last night he let me know there was a fox on the lawn.”

“Didn’t chase ‘im, though, I’ll wager.”

Gwyneth sighed. “No, he didn’t. And it was well past midnight, too. Little devil woke me.” She rubbed him gently with her foot, whereupon he moaned in pleasure, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

“Wake anyone else, then, did ‘e?”

“You’re not giving up, are you.” It was a statement, delivered with a grin.

“Nope.”

“All right,” sighed Gwyneth. “For the record, Harry and I have not…er…become too closely acquainted.”

“Yet.”

“Yet.”

“That’s better.” Mrs Barnsley nodded. “And I always knew yer was smart. Yer wait a bit, take yer time, and then…” she clapped her hands together. “Boom.”

A shudder ran through Gwyneth as she thought about “boom” with Harry. Wisely, she changed the subject.

“How’s Jane, Mrs B? Have you seen her this week?”

“I have,” nodded the older woman. “Big as a house, God bless ‘er. An’ the babe kickin’ like a pig in a sack.”

“She is due to deliver in—what—less than a month?”

“Six weeks,” answered the future grandmother. “Though I’m thinkin’ she’ll go sooner. Babe’s dropped, yer see…”

“Oh, yes. Right,” answered Gwyneth, who didn’t see at all. “And how is Trick? Is he ready to be a papa, do you think?

At that, Mrs B laughed aloud. “Says ‘e’s ready, ‘e does. But I’ll believe that when I sees it.”

Both women shared the humour, and their conversation continued until Mrs B finally stood, brushing off her skirts.

“Well, I gotta go, m’Lady. But yer knows ‘ow much I enjoy our chats.”

“And I, Mrs B.” Gwyneth also rose. “Oh. One thing—and I would ask you to keep this to yourself, if you don’t mind—we are working on something for the tenants, and we may need some men to help over the next month or so. Do you know if that would be possible? Are the harvests all in? Will there be