Until the Dawn by Elizabeth Camden Read Free Book Online Page B

you’ll find a cloth for the table in the sideboard.”
    A couple of the men reluctantly moved toward the sideboard, and Sophie tipped the eggs onto a serving platter. Within minutes, a cloth was spread, the plates and pewter forks laid out, and Sophie carried platters of food to the table.
    Sophie was not a perfect woman. She hadn’t been brilliant in school, she had a catastrophic history with romantic relationships, and her only sense of purpose in the world came from gathering and reporting weather statistics each day. But for all her shortcomings, she was an extraordinary cook, and everyone in New Holland knew it.
    Soon Quentin Vandermark would know it, too.
    It didn’t take long for groans of satisfaction to rise as the men began wolfing down the eggs. The governess was more restrained, but she allowed a grateful smile as Sophie brought the basket of warm cranberry muffins to the table.
    “Those smell so delicious I think I’m about to faint,” the governess said as she reached for a muffin. The men around the table grunted and nodded as they reached for the basket.
    Then she noticed Mr. Vandermark remained rigid in his chair across the room, glowering at her. “Aren’t you joining us?” Sophie asked him.
    All the heads swiveled, forks paused in midair. Everyone looked guilty, as if they hadn’t realized they dove into their meals without waiting for their employer to join them.
    “I’ve already eaten,” Quentin said bluntly.
    “Are you sure?” Mr. Gilroy asked. “Apples aren’t very satisfying compared to this feast. This may be the best breakfast I’ve ever had.” The butler lifted a heaping forkful of eggs to his mouth and moaned with pleasure.
    Mr. Vandermark’s face looked like it was carved from stone. “Food is a commodity,” he said. “A product that is bought and sold to fuel the human body, nothing more. I’ve got work to do.”
    The vinegar in his tone stifled the merry conversation from moments ago. All that could be heard was the scratching of his pencil and the clatter of silverware against the plates as the guards ate in silence.
    Sophie returned to the kitchen, systematically cracking another round of eggs and seasoning them with practiced hands. Quentin Vandermark was going to be a challenge. He didn’t seem to have a trace of warmth or compassion in his entire body. He wouldn’t even accept food from her—how was she going to convince him not to destroy Dierenpark? Or perhaps coax him into rehiring Emil and Florence?
    All her life, Sophie had tried to look for the good in people. No matter how surly, disrespectful, or difficult, she believed there was a spark of goodness inside each person, but she had never met anyone quite like Quentin Vandermark. He seemed clouded by an iron cynicism he hid behind like a shield.
    Would it be possible for such a ferocious man to ever soften? She sensed there was a seed of humor and decency buried deep inside, but it would take professional mining equipment to dig it out and drag it to the surface, and he would probably fight tooth and nail to stop it from happening. Sometimes unhappy people were like that. It was easier to remain locked in their fortress of discontent rather than risk the pain associated with emerging into the light of day.
    She finished breakfast quickly, for it was important to getback to town and telegraph today’s weather data to Washington by noon. Each time she sent off the messages, she liked to imagine the men in Washington as they added her data alongside the messages from thousands of other volunteers. The scientists would transfer her information onto their giant maps and try to make sense of it all. Perhaps it was pathetic that her entire sense of self-worth was based on this simple duty, but most women her age had husbands or children to give them a sense of purpose. She had daydreams of anonymous scientists in Washington who breathlessly awaited her daily messages.
    She couldn’t bear to think what would