Love's First Flames (Banished Saga, 0.5) by Ramona Flightner

man who helped find the new bakery, and I wanted to call to pay my respects. Thank you.”
    The maid nodded in understanding, ushering them into a large dark foyer filled with black walnut furniture.
    Gabriel reached out to trace the furniture, with ornately carved floral patterns on some pieces and deeply etched mosaics on others. “This is the work of a true Master,” Gabriel said in awe as he crouched to study the base of the hall stand.
    “If you would be so good as to follow me,” the maid said with a lift of an eyebrow to find Gabriel on his knees studying the furniture.
    Gabriel rose, sharing an amused smile with Richard, and followed Richard into the formal sitting room.
    Mrs. Kruger, who appeared closer to ninety than eighty, heaved herself up with the aid of her cane as they entered the room. Her dress of gray wool with black trim did not follow the current fashion of exaggerated puffed sleeves and was one of understated elegance. She swayed with her efforts, and Richard beat Gabriel to her side, gripping her arm to prevent her from falling.
    “Please sit, ma’am,” Richard said as he eased her back to her seat. When she was settled with her gray skirts pleated around her feet and her cane next to one hip, Richard relaxed and followed her nod, taking a chair facing her on her right. Gabriel sat in the other vacant chair on her left.
    “Why have you called on me?” Mrs. Kruger asked, her voice that of an elderly woman, hinting at the strength of her youth, yet thready and shaky in her old age.
    “I am Richard McLeod, and I aided one of your maids in finding a new bakery,” Richard said. “This is my brother, Gabriel.”
    “So you are Florence’s young man,” she said with a sparkle in her blue-gray eyes. “I wondered if you’d have the temerity to call on an old Brahmin.”
    “I mean no disrespect, ma’am,” Richard said with a worried glance to Gabriel.
    “Our mother would have been considered a Brahmin had she married anyone other than our father,” Gabriel said with a deferential nod. He shared a surprised look with Richard. “Aunt said as much once on one of her tirades when you were at school.” Richard nodded before they both turned their attention to Mrs. Kruger.
    “She was learned?” Mrs. Kruger asked.
    “Yes, and insistent that we also have a good education.” Gabriel’s gaze became distant as he thought of his mother. “She was cultured. She knew much more about poetry and books than she did about cooking and darning socks.”
    “Ah, then you have no need to be afraid of the likes of me,” Mrs. Kruger said, her eyes lit with delight. “It’s been some time since I’ve had the pleasure of company for tea. I hope you’re able to stay?”
    “We’d love to, ma’am,” Richard said. His gaze continued to wander toward the doorway, searching for Florence.
    “She’s on her way, young man. I’m heartened to see she isn’t the only one pining for a visit with you.” She cackled as Richard flushed and fidgeted on his overstuffed chair.
    At that moment, Florence bustled into the room, carrying a laden tea tray. She watched Mrs. Kruger, not glancing at Mrs. Kruger’s company as Florence set down the heavy tray.
    “I have guests, Flo!” Mrs. Kruger said triumphantly.
    “I can see that. The kitchen’s in an uproar, ensuring all is done properly for your tea,” Florence said as she scooted the handle of the pot around to face Mrs. Kruger.
    “No, little Florence, you must stay. I want you to join us.” Mrs. Kruger sat straight, and the echo of the formidable woman she had been was easily discerned. When Florence murmured her dissent, Mrs. Kruger grasped her hand with gnarled fingers, preventing Florence from slipping away. “Don’t you want to join my discussion with the McLeod brothers?”
    Florence gasped, raising her eyes to meet Richard’s amused, warm gaze. She then looked toward Gabriel and paled, his expression guarded and calculating as he studied her. “Mr.