“Wearne.” He laughed. “Which means Old Man Gibson owes everyone some ginger fairings. He was on his way to Polmers’ last I heard. You likely passed him on the water.”
Likely, though she hadn’t honestly been paying much attention. She’d simply sat in the bow with her face turned into the wind and up to the sun, wondering how she’d come back here like this, with no prospects other than waiting for Rory to come for her. “Well, it’s been ages since I had decent fairings. Incentive.”
A clatter sounded from behind the door that stood open to receive the fresh breeze, and a moment later her mother filled the space, eyes wide in disbelief. “Senara? I heard your voice but thought I must be imagining it!”
“Mam.” This time Tas caught her bag before she could drop it to the ground again. Which meant her arms were free to come around her mother and give her a mighty squeeze.
Unlike Tas, she didn’t carry the scent of flowers and earth along with the bread. No, Mam’s essence was cinnamon and vanilla and yeast and all things delicious. Smelling that familiar smell again brought too many feelings crowding into Senara’s throat. “I’ve missed you.” It was all she could manage to whisper.
And even that was too much, apparently. Mam pulled back, hands clasping her shoulders and all-seeing eyes drilling straight into her. “What’s the matter, then? Your health?”
“I’m quite well.” And why, when she was a woman grown, did her mother’s concern make her come unraveled? Her smile shook in the corners, and her nose burned with the press of tears. Best to get it out. Get it done, so they could address it and move on to what mattered. “But I’ve lost my position.”
“What?” Both her parents shouted it in unison, with matching incredulity.
Senara squeezed her eyes shut. Seeing their outrage was too much. It made those prickles inside turn to outright jabs of conscience. “You remember my mentioning Rory?”
“Aye.” Mam touched a finger to Senara’s chin that meant Look at me. She was helpless to do anything but obey and found her mother’s gaze as she’d expected it to be. Encouraging but wary and accepting nothing less than the truth. “Valet to Lord Clifford’s cousin. You’ve been sweet on him for years.”
Senara gave one quick nod. “He’s sweet on me too. We were talking in the stable the other night and someone reported it to his lordship, who assumed the worst. He sacked me immediately.”
Fury burned in Mam’s eyes. “And Lord Clifford didn’t give you a chance to defend yourself? After all your years of loyal service?”
Heat stung Senara’s cheeks. What his lordship had believed had been his own eyes. Yes, someone had clearly tattled to his lordship. But a rumor wouldn’t have been enough to get her dismissed. Her own actions accomplished that. A truth she couldn’t pull to her lips, not with her parents looking at her like that. So ready to defend her. To believe the best.
She shrugged.
Mam huffed. “Let’s get you resting up, then. Give me just a moment to move the pot off the heat and I’ll see you home.”
“Oh, Mam, you needn’t—”
“Who said anything about need?” Mam spun away, her mission set.
Tas chuckled from behind Senara. “You know better than to argue.” He slung an arm around her shoulders, gave her another squeeze, pressed another kiss to the top of her head. “Glad you’re home, my girl, and not sorry you’re staying awhile this time. As long as you need. Forever’s fine with us.”
Her smile felt small and sad on her lips. This wasn’t how she’d ever meant to come home. Not with shame and disgrace trailing her and her only hope of redemption resting on Rory showing up soon, before her parents thought to ask more questions.
“There.” Mam bustled their way again, smile in place. “I just took in the tea things for the ladies, so I can steal away for a few minutes.”
“Mrs. Tremayne and Beth? Or is Oliver’s young lady here? Mrs. G mentioned her.” Senara stood on tiptoe to peer around her mother—not that she could see through all the walls between the kitchen and drawing room, but she had to admit to some curiosity, even given her exhaustion.
“Lady Elizabeth, yes. And Lady Emily just knocked a minute ago too—Beth’s friend from finishing school, you’ll recall. They both have rooms on St. Mary’s.”
She had vague recollections of Beth telling tales about her dearest friend from school, but she’d never paid particular attention to them. And the presence of a stranger who wasn’t about to marry into the family was enough to temper her curiosity. She turned with Mam toward the kitchen door. “How lovely for Beth.”
“Well. Not as lovely as one might think—but you don’t need that story quite yet. Get settled and rested, dearover, and we’ll tell you all about everything later.”
Everything? What could possibly be going on that would make Beth’s friend being here not a happy occasion?
“Senara?”
“Coming.” She turned with her parents toward the garden.
They chattered a bit as they walked, but nothing that required her attention. And it took only a minute to pass through the side gate connecting the Tremaynes’ spacious garden to their small one, and then they were at her own back door.
The moment they stepped inside, a too-familiar sound met her ears and scratched its way down her back. The sound of a coarse fabric brush going to work.
Which meant that Ainsley the valet was here, right now. Perhaps when she met him she’d be able to place why the name sounded familiar.
“Ah, right.” As if reading her mind, Tas bustled up the stairs ahead of her. “We’ll have to make quick introductions. Ainsley! You’ll never guess it. Senara’s come home!”
She felt her brow furrow even as she followed her father up. How long had this fellow been here? Tas called out to him as though he were an old friend—an old friend who’d been told all about their daughter and how rarely she made it back to Tresco.
The brushing sound stopped, and the floor creaked. By the time their trio made it to the top of the stairs, the door to the guest room had been opened and a dark-clad man stepped into the corridor.
He looked a few years older than she was. Handsome, as valets who traveled with their employers generally were. His voice, when he said, “How lovely for you all!” sounded smooth and deep and sincere.
But he didn’t look at all familiar. No, that wasn’t quite true—there was something about his eyes . . . or the shape of his mouth? She shook it off, despite how she hated not being able to place a name, and pasted on a tired smile. “How do you do?”
“Very well, thank you. And you?”
“Likewise.” Or at the very least, she would be well. Everything would be well. Because she was home now, and Rory would come soon.
The disgrace would soon be far behind her.
4
Beth followed the crook of her grandmother’s finger away from the dining room after luncheon. She’d been trained to follow that crook since she was old enough to toddle—and she’d learned, too, over the years, what each expression on Adelle Tremayne’s face meant. This one, a placid smile paired with the sparking eyes, meant it was time to have a conversation.