Lady Adalyn (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 1) by Sahara Kelly (latest ebook reader TXT) 📕

“Oh my,” whispered Judith. “What a helpful servant.”

“My Lady is not to put weight on her ankle if she can avoid it, Miss,” said Trick respectfully. “I have my orders from Mr. Giles.”

“It is easier this way,” added Adalyn. “The cane is for support, should I need to stand for more than a moment or two…but moving around…” she paused and tilted her head toward Trick, “this has proved to be the most effective method.”

“Well, in that case,” harrumphed Sir Amery. “Follow me.”

To say he strode away in irritation would be overstating matters, but Adalyn felt a quick squeeze from one of Trick’s hands and knew he had interpreted the situation just as she had. Sir Amery was not best pleased.

Judith walked beside them, chattering about mundane topics and asking Adalyn if she was using a poultice on her ankle.

Such kind inquiry warranted a like response, and so the two young women arrived in the parlour in mutual harmony with each other.

“Judith, do stop your inane prattle. Lady Adalyn must not be burdened so early in our evening.” Sir Amery poured the amber liquid into sparkling crystal glasses. “My Lady?”

Trick set her down and handed her the cane, bowing and retreating to the side of the room, where he stood still with his hands crossed low in front of him. The perfect servant. She seated herself.

Sir Amery paid him no attention at all, but poured a glass for Adalyn.

She accepted it with a polite smile as he brought it to her chair. “I thank you, Sir. Most kind.”

He passed one to Judith without comment, then turned back to Adalyn. “It is a pleasure to see you here in this setting, my dear. I have long awaited a guest whose beauty would outshine her surroundings, and here you are.” He raised his glass to her.

She knew she should have been flattered, but all she wanted to do was laugh at the effusive encomium. However, with effort, she managed to nod in acceptance of his compliments.

“You are too kind, Sir Amery. As if anyone could outshine such an intriguing room. Pray tell me, sir. The lady over the fireplace—a beautiful portrait indeed. An ancestor perhaps?”

Nothing loth, he launched into a detailed description of both the lady—a Fairhurst great aunt—and the technique of the painter, who Adalyn had never heard of. Since the subject herself had a formidable nose, a fierce expression and a dog on her lap whose eyes bulged more than they should have, Adalyn could only school her features to reflect a fascination she did not feel.

“I believe poor Pudgy passed on shortly after this portrait was painted,” observed Judith.

Adalyn’s keen hearing caught the merest hint of a choked snort from Trick. She gulped, and attempted sympathy. “How sad. But a wonderful remembrance. You must be very proud of your lineage, Sir Amery. To be able to trace it back so far…”

“Well,” he tried to look modest. “One does what one can to keep the name going.”

“Indeed,” she nodded.

What he was about to say, she had no idea, but the gleam that had entered his eyes when speaking of keeping the line going was enough to warn her she might not like it. Fortunately, the butler chose that moment to appear with a small gong.

“Sir Amery,” the man bowed. “Dinner is served.”

“Very good. Thank you Wandsworth.”

Although Trick moved toward Adalyn, she shook her head at him. She wanted to make an obvious point of her injury without alienating anyone, and Trick’s readiness to sweep her into his arms might be a little too much for this moment.

So she slowly made her way with the help of her cane and Sir Amery’s arm. Since she was planning on leaving as soon as she could, she felt it was the least she could do to maintain an illusion of politeness and courtesy.

She allowed him to seat her, smiling her thanks, grateful that a smaller table had been set, and the three of them were able to converse comfortably and not avoid either overflowing épergnes or massive candelabras.

However, the meal itself conformed to the Fairhurst theme of overabundance.

Adalyn, a modest eater at best, found herself merely tasting the soup course, since the joints of meat were already appearing, along with an assortment of vegetables. Two servants were kept busy with various serving platters.

The stewed beef steaks smelled most appetising, shining beneath a rich gravy and supplemented with mushrooms. Sir Amery did justice to that dish, tucking in as if he’d not eaten in a week. But Adalyn couldn’t forget Evan’s perfect meals, where each course was fresh, tasty and modest.

This dinner was none of the above. She shook her head at the beef steaks.

Nevertheless, she did her best, trying a little of this and a little of that, until the plates were cleared to make way for the next course—partridges, fresh filleted fish, salmon pie and other assorted savouries.

When the sweet arrived, she realised it must have taken them at least two hours to work through all the food. She could barely look at the syllabub.

Judith, she noted, had exercised similar restraint; merely picking at various dishes and waving away most of those presented to her.

However, Adalyn remained complimentary and as gracious as possible, even when Sir Amery’s conversation grew prying and he began to ask leading questions about Wolfbridge.

She deflected most of his pointed inquiries by sipping her wine. “Forgive me, Sir Amery, but I am still learning much about Wolfbridge. Not having managed such a large establishment before, I depend on my estate manager for most of the information you seek.” She widened her eyes, trying for an innocent demeanour. “I’m sure Daniel wouldn’t mind sitting down with you, if these facts are absolutely necessary…”

“Oh no, my dear. I was just wondering how Wolfbridge is faring. This past year has been quite an awful one, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”

“Indeed,” she nodded. And sipped more wine.

It struck her that if he kept this up, she might well find herself