Drops of Gold(39)

Caroline spoke in a whisper far too loud for confidentiality, though her tone indicated she intended their exchange to be secret. Marion pretended not to hear. “Mary is twenty whole years old, Papa. Her birthday was only two days ago. So close to mine!” Caroline’s eyes grew wide.

“And why, poppet, did you not tell your Papa that it was Miss Wood’s birthday?” But Mr. Jonquil was looking at Marion again with something akin to disappointment on his face.

She must have looked confused at his expression. She certainly felt confused. Why would he have wished to know? She was only a servant.

“We could have given her a present,” Mr. Jonquil said. His disappointment seemed to dissolve into almost sadness.

“Oh, I wanted to! But I didn’t have anything to give her, and I . . .” Caroline sniffled back sudden tears. “I . . . I wish . . .”

Mr. Jonquil engulfed Caroline in his large arms once more as he knelt in front of her. He whispered something into Caroline’s tiny ear that Marion couldn’t overhear, and a tremulous smile courageously peeked out through her tears. Mr. Jonquil took hold of Caroline’s hand then rose to his feet and turned to Marion.

“Miss Wood,” he said in that voice she remembered from their first encounter, one filled with aristocratic command. She felt herself stiffen at the sound of it as she looked up into his eyes. But the moment her gaze met his, she relaxed. There was a twinkle there that belied his demeanor. “As master of this house, I am declaring tomorrow your second birthday.”

“My what?”

“Cake and presents and general merriment.” Mr. Jonquil went on as if she’d made no inquiry. “A few days late but a birthday celebration just the same.”

Marion and Caroline replied in perfect unison. “Oh, sir, that is hardly—” and “Oh, Papa!”

“Go to the window, poppet,” Mr. Jonquil instructed gently. “See if Flip and Grammy and Stanby are here yet.”

Caroline obediently ran off with a smile splitting her face.

Mr. Jonquil turned to face Marion, a look in his eyes that made her breath catch in her lungs and her heart flutter once again. She wasn’t entirely sure what it meant or why she felt the way she did, but something in her wanted him to continue looking at her just the way he was at that moment.





Chapter Fifteen



Mary wasted not a moment of their sudden privacy before protesting again. “It would be too much, sir. For a servant—”

“Let us do this for you, Miss Wood,” Layton interrupted, stepping ever closer, fighting the urge to brush his fingers along her cheek. He’d avoided her rather obsessively since their hours-long discussion of his past in the woods weeks earlier, thinking he’d regret his decision to unburden himself if he were forced to face her. But it seemed Mary—he’d come to think of her that way, even though the name didn’t seem to fit her somehow—was all he thought about lately. He’d wonder where she was and what she was doing. He’d wander to the schoolroom when he knew she and Caroline were on one of their outings and would marvel at the change she’d wrought there. It was lighter and cheerier and full of wilted brown leaves. They, no doubt, were still collecting the legendary Drops of Gold.

Once, he’d even gone to the nursery wing in the middle of the night, telling himself he only meant to check on Caroline, which he did, but then he sat in a chair near the empty fireplace and just listened to the quiet stillness of Mary’s domain. He endured no gut-wrenching sobs, no night-long pacing up and down the room he knew was hers. She was peaceful, and he needed peace. He needed it.

“You told me when I first came here that I needed to learn my place.” Mary shook her head. “I couldn’t—”

Layton quit suppressing his natural instinct and reached up to touch her face lightly, hesitantly. Her cheek was every bit as soft as it looked. He cupped her face in his hand and looked directly into her eyes. “Someone reminded me recently how very little Caroline asks of any of us, especially considering how much she has lost in her short lifetime.” He allowed his hand to drop from her face, though he immediately missed the contact, the closeness he felt caressing her cheek. He seized her hand with his two, needing to regain some degree of contact. “Caroline was so obviously desolate at not being able to acknowledge your birthday. Please let her. You have done so much for her, for us.”

“I really haven’t—”

“Do you know she sat on my lap for a full thirty minutes last night and talked—hardly pausing for breath the entire time?”

A smile spread across Mary’s face. Layton longed to touch her cheek again, to brush back that lock of fiery red hair that constantly flung itself against her temple. He contented himself with gently squeezing her fingers, though it wasn’t nearly as satisfying.