The Lie and the Lady by Kate Noble Read Free Book Online Page A

before or they’d been afraid of having it. Both options were exhausting.
    â€œFourteen months,” she shot back. “It’s been fourteen months.”
    Leticia’s eyes went wide. And that ball of pity began to well up in her again. For Margaret, the death of her mother must be still quite raw. But then she looked at Sir Barty’s face. He was ashamed, and tired, and unsure of himself for the first time since Leticia had met him. She knew she had to wade into the fray, and that she was better served siding with her fiancé.
    â€œI assure you, it is not a joke,” she said serenely, coming over to take Sir Barty’s arm, looking up at him with admiration and support. “We are quite happy.”
    That forced Margaret to look at Leticia.
    â€œWell, I’m sure you are,” Margaret replied, her chin wobbling. But she quelled it. “Should we get supper over with? I would like to get back to the greenhouse—I have to dissect the rhododendron roots tonight.”
    â€œWouldn’t you like to change first?” Leticia couldn’t help but say.
    â€œWhy? I am going to be working again directly after, I’d much rather keep my work clothes on,” Margaret replied. “Besides, it’s only Father. And . . . you.”
    â€œSupper, even eaten in family, should have standards,” Leticia replied gently.
    Margaret shot a look to her father, and while he did not say anything, he did give a stern nod. Margaret’s braid swished in consternation, but she said nothing, just simply crossed the room and headed for the stairs—presumably to change into a dress more appropriate for supper.
    Although Leticia couldn’t be certain. She had a feeling that where Margaret Babcock was involved, there would always be a question as to motives and actions.
    At nineteen, a young lady’s character should be established and steady. After all, Leticia had been married at nineteen. She’d moved from her father’s home to her sister’s home to her own home. What she did not do was act like she was a ten-year-old spoiled brat when faced with adversity.
    At least, she hoped she hadn’t.
    â€œShe’ll come around.” Sir Barty said, and squeezed her shoulder. “I think you’ll be just the thing for her, m’dear,”
    â€œI think so too.” Leticia smiled at him. As long as she could figure out her opponent, she would have no problem winning this battle.
    As it turned out, Margaret had gone upstairs to change, coming back down in a few short minutes’ time in a simple day frock (Leticia was not about to quibble that it was far too much a morning dress for the evening meal), her face and hands wiped clean of dirt and her hair neatly smoothed and rebraided. (Again, Leticia was not about to quibble that her hair was not dressed appropriately for a young lady of nineteen, let alone for supper. She was much too hungry for that.)
    They went into the dining room and seated themselves before a repast that Leticia was certain had been prepared in a fury.
    â€œWhen Mrs. Dillon showed me the kitchens this afternoon, I had no idea that this marvelous meal would be produced from there in only a matter of hours,” Leticia said, smiling at one of the serving men. “Please let Cook know that I am impressed.”
    â€œWhy?” Margaret asked.
    â€œWhy?” Leticia echoed.
    â€œWhy did you have no idea? It’s a kitchen; it produces food on a daily basis. Either you have little experience with kitchen staffs or you are simply trying to flatter Cook.”
    Leticia glanced at Sir Barty. He avoided her eyes by shoveling some meat pie into his mouth.
    â€œIt’s the same food we’ve had here for years. Nothing special.” Margaret turned to the manservant. “Correct?”
    The servant, shocked out of his position at the wall, nodded and bowed.
    â€œStill,” Leticia said, maintaining her composure.