Secrets of Sloane House(99)

And realized that there was very little chance of his father ever taking his place here again. More to the point, there hadn’t been a chance for some time. He’d only been holding out hope. Praying for a miracle.

“But you don’t grant dreams and wishes, do you, Lord?” he asked the empty room. And for the first time in a very long time, he didn’t expect an answer.

That made him feel even less whole. All his life, he’d hugged his faith close to his heart, clung to it with the zest of a temperance worker. Oh, he’d made sure to give thanks to God every night. And he did have many, many reasons to feel blessed and grateful. But now, he wondered, what had he been praising the Lord for? Things that didn’t matter?

When had he really given thanks for having parents like his own? For the simple fact that they loved each other? That they had never acted like he and Beth weren’t poor substitutes for Calvin?

Now he and Beth and his mother would become an awkward trio.

For a moment, he realized that he still had not done the one thing his dad had wanted him to do so badly—marry well.

Of course, he wasn’t married at all. And the woman he was currently thinking about was far from a lady of means. He paused, waiting to feel guilt. Instead, all he felt was a curious sense of righteousness.

Thinking about Douglass and Olympia Sloane’s staggering revelations, he realized that he was still in a state of shock. He’d never truly realized that Douglass felt no shame or remorse for his actions.

And Reid had never guessed that a woman as regal as Mrs. Sloane could murder—and then expect everyone to lie to protect her. She was such an elegant lady, and she hailed from one of the finest families in the nation.

But did it really matter? And what was “fine,” anyway? Surely not men and women like that.

“Knock, knock,” Rosalind said as she entered with a tray laden with a sandwich, cookies, and what looked to be a bowl of soup. “I hope you’re hungry, Reid. Your cook outdid herself.”

“I am hungry. Starved.” He jumped to his feet. “But I didn’t imagine the staff would ask you to bring me my tray.”

“I asked to. Erin was going to bring it, but she needed a little break. Besides, I told you, I’ve gotten pretty good at carrying trays by now.”

Only she could make his mood lift at a time like this. “So I see.”

After she set down the tray on a table near the fire, she glanced at him with a bit of trepidation in her eyes. “Do you mind if I sit in here with you while you eat? Your staff is very kind, but they have things to do and I was only getting in their way.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Today she was wearing a plain brown dress. It should have washed out her color, made her look mousy. But instead, the plain clothes only accentuated her natural beauty.

And reminded him of how he was tempted to simply stare at her. Gesturing at one of the empty chairs opposite where he was sitting, he added, “Actually, I can’t think of anything better than having you keep me company.”

After she sat, he took the chair next to hers. With a tug and a pull, he shifted it so they almost faced each other, next to the table with the tray. Now little separated them except for his flaws and her hesitancy.

Next, he closed his eyes, gave a quick blessing, then at last dug into his meal. “So how was sitting with the staff in the kitchen?” he asked after he’d consumed a few spoonfuls of his cream of broccoli soup.

“I liked it very much. Your maid, Erin, promised me the staff here was different, and she was right.”

That interested him. “Different how?”

“Different, happy. Less stressed.”

He had to smile at that. “It’s probably because we don’t know how to act properly for the servants.”

“No, it’s probably because you all are nicer to them. I also heard that your mother doesn’t like to entertain all that much.”

“No. Well, not grand parties.”

“That’s something your staff is grateful for. Preparing for a grand dinner can be an exhausting business.”

“So I’ve been told.” He tucked into his sandwich, thinking about the differences in staff. Thinking about how comfortable he felt just being around Rosalind.

She seemed to be feeling contented too.

He hated to ruin their few moments of peace, but he knew something had to be said. “Rosalind, I truly am sorry about your sister. But perhaps one day you might find comfort by knowing that justice will be served.”

“Perhaps.” Her bottom lip trembled, but she held her composure. “I am upset, but not shocked. I think I knew in my heart that she wasn’t alive and she was probably a victim of foul play. I told your father as much.”