Page 13 of Her Noble Groom
Chapter ten
T homasse hummed as she strolled through the village. It had been a marvelous day—so many folk had gone out of their way to thank her for the courage she had shown in standing up to the soldiers.
When she rounded the curve, James stood beneath the alder tree, hands behind his back, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Her step faltered at the memory of last night’s dream, thrilling, yet terrifying. James could not possibly know, but still, she felt shy, uncertain if he returned her regard.
James’s arms swept forward, revealing a tussie-mussie of wild flowers. “’Tis not much—”
She took them and buried her nose in the blooms, breathing in their heady scent. “Oh, James, they are beautiful.”
He cleared his throat. “A small token of our gratitude for last night.”
They wandered down the path homeward, the conversation stilted as she turned over his words in her mind.
He had said our, not my, gratitude. It would be presumptuous, perhaps too bold for a lady, to ask the meaning directly.
Maybe he had chosen his words carefully, unsure if his attentions would be welcome.
Still, she would not let her uncertainty dampen her happiness.
There would be time enough to see where things went between them.
They parted at the crest of the hillock. Overflowing with joy, she skipped the rest of the way to the cottage, mindless of her dignity. She stopped short when she saw the door ajar. She slowly pushed it open, wary of what she might find inside.
Her father sat at the table. “Praise God, you are home safe.”
She smiled brightly, dropped the flowers on the table, and kissed his cheek. “I could say the same about you. I have been so worried. ”
He did not return her smile. “Where have you been?”
“I have just come from my work in the village.”
“Do not lie to me. I returned yesterday, eager to see my daughter, but you never came home last night. So I ask again, where were you?”
Her smile faltered. Rather than relieved she was safe, he was angry. She selected a chipped cup and filled it with water from the bucket. “I stayed in the village.”
His piercing glare never wavered. “We are not so wealthy you can frivolously waste money on a room at the inn.”
She set the cup on the table and arranged the flowers. “I stayed with a friend.”
His eyes narrowed. “And does this friend have a name?”
Her jaw tightened. How dare he question her decisions when he had been absent for nigh a fortnight?
He rose, kicked back the chair, and pressed his fists against the table. “Were you with that groom? Tell me, did he take advantage of you?”
The last remnants of happiness drained from her body. “Of course not. How could you think thus?”
“How am I to think otherwise when you arrive home, humming, your hands full of flowers?”
“That I am happy. Given our changed circumstances, be grateful I have something to sing about.”
He closed the distance between them, his nose in her face. “Were you or were you not with James last night?”
She narrowed her eyes and glared back at him, then stepped back and crossed her arms, refusing to be cowed. She had done nothing wrong. “Yes, but—”
“Fie, what shall I do?” He snatched off his hat and threw it on the floor. “You may have ruined more than just yourself. If Lord Jack finds out, he will withdraw his offer. Your union is the key to restoring our respectability and securing your future.”
“How dare you slander my reputation.” Her cheeks burned. “If you allowed me to finish. Last night, soldiers roamed the parish. It was unsafe for me to be alone, so I stayed with his family. I am sorry if I worried you needlessly, but do not judge without all the facts. ”
“Nevertheless, I forbid you to see him again. Is that understood?”
She clenched her fists, unable to believe his demand. James had provided for them when they were in dire need, and shown them nothing but respect. How dare her father treat James with such disdain? But from the stony look on his face, she knew argument was futile.
He flung himself back into the chair. “Do not look so downcast. You will forget him as quickly as all the others.”
She turned away and collected the vegetables for dinner, chopping them fiercely, trying to dispel her anger.
She tossed them into the kettle and hung it over the hearth.
Fortunately, her father had seen fit to stoke the fire, so she did not have to, although foraging for wood would have been a blessed reprieve from his foul mood.
When the vegetables were softened, she ladled up a bowl of stew and set it in front of him. Too upset to eat, she perched on the chair opposite. An awkward silence stretched between them. If the tension did not abate, she could not remain here another minute.
“This is ridiculous! How long will you punish me for something I did not do?”
Her father stared at her as if she were a petulant child. “Do you not understand? I agonized many hours over the evils that might have befallen you.”
“Yet here I am, hale and hearty. Can we put this behind us? If not, I shall sleep elsewhere tonight.” When he did not respond, Thomasse pushed back her chair and stood.
Her father grabbed her hand. “Do not go. Perhaps I become vexed too easily.”
Still peeved, but hoping to soothe the tension by changing the subject, she dropped back into the chair and asked, “Was your sojourn successful?”
He took a spoonful of stew and chewed slowly. “Queen Margaret has gone to France to gather support to retake the throne.”
“And King Henry?”
“Still in Scotland. Once I have enough money for passage, I will join her.”
“And what of me? ”
“It will be safer for you to remain here. You seem to be adapting.” Her father nodded in approval. “I commend you. But when our circumstances change, you must never confess to working as a spinster.”
“What of you, Father? Will you confess to engaging in the fishing trade?”
“There is no dishonor there. It is all in how you couch it.” He shoveled another spoonful of stew into his mouth. “Gentlemen often fish for sport.”
Thomasse rose and collected the bowl and spoon and slammed them into the bucket.
Thirteen days her father had been gone. Thirteen days in which she had risen before the sun rose and hiked into the village to work.
Thirteen days she had collected firewood, hauled water, slept alone, unprotected.
No small feat. Men could boast for years about their exploits in battle, while her efforts to ensure their survival were to be forgotten, a tale unworthy to be told.