Move Heaven and Earth by Christina Dodd Page B

here?”
    “Yes. Lord Rand was squirmy this morning, so he’s showing me around the house.”
    Gail giggled and glanced back at Betty. “Can I come?”
    “You’re too bold,” Betty said.
    “Ah, let her come,” Rand begged. “That old witch you call a governess won’t care. You know she lives only to conjugate Latin verbs.”
    While Gail giggled more, Sylvan changed her mind once again. That was not a fatherly statement, designed to uphold discipline and promote education. Maybe James was the father. Maybe Garth. Maybe some unknown cousin?
    Betty rebuked Rand. “You know Gail repeats everything you say. How am I going to explain that?”
    Taking Gail’s hand, Rand patted it and said to her, “Don’t tell the old witch what I said. She’s a nice lady. She can’t help it if she can’t keep up with us.”
    “I won’t tell her.” Gail sounded stuffy and adult. “I like Miss Wainwright, and that would hurt her feelings.” She dropped her voice to a whisper, the kind of whisper that echoed through the gallery. “She’s in love with you, you know.”
    “Is she?” Rand whispered right back. “I won’t tease her about it.”
    Gail thought about it, then said, “Neither will I.”
    “I hate rainy days,” Betty muttered, her gaze on Gail.
    Sylvan sidled over to her. “Do you do everything around here? Housekeeper, personal maid, and nursemaid of the, um, child? Whose daughter…” Betty looked at Sylvan with such an appalled expression, Sylvan blushed for her own boldness. “I beg your pardon. I really don’t even want to know.”
    “Miss, I don’t think…” Betty faltered.
    “I vow, I don’t want to know.”
    “Sylvan!” Rand called. “Come with us.” He and Gail had raced clear across the gallery and were waiting at the opposite door. “We’re going to raid the dining room.”
    With what sounded like relief, Betty said, “You go on, miss. You need another meal. You didn’t eat a thing this morning.”
    Sylvan went, but only because she wanted to observe Rand with this child. He seemed to like Gail immensely, treating her like a small adult and delighting her with his attention. She talked all the time, and Rand called her “Windy Gail,” making her giggle and roll her eyes at Sylvan. The other servants treated Gail well, too, not like an outcast bastard, but like the child they’d all helped to raise. She’d spoken of her governess, so obviously Rand, or Garth, or James, had acknowledged her as his own and gave her the advantages of wealth. If onlySylvan didn’t so urgently hope the father were someone other than Rand, for what did that say about her?
    “Lord Rand!” The minister hailed them from the doorway of the study as they were about to enter the dining room. “How good to see you’re feeling better today.”
    Sylvan almost laughed at the vicar’s euphemistic phrasing. Feeling better? She supposed Rand was feeling better than yesterday, when he knocked out the windows and rampaged through the house.
    From the expression on Rand’s face, he thought much the same. “Ah, Reverend.” Rand nudged Gail along. “Thank you for your good wishes. I hadn’t expected to see you out on such a miserable day.”
    Gail got a look at the good reverend and bolted toward the dining room, but the Reverend Donald caught her arm in a lightning move that startled Sylvan. He stood taller than the middle shelf on the china cabinet, but his face had the soft look of a man who spent more time reading than working. Still, his knee-length black frock coat must conceal a muscled body. His mouth smiled, but his eyes were stern as he said, “Gail Emmaline, why have I not seen you in church these many weeks? It’s a sad thing when a young lady is allowed to dismiss her communion with God as unimportant.”
    “I don’t do that!” Gail blurted. “I do my Bible lessons every day, but my mama says—”
    “You should go and find your mama,” Rand interrupted, catching the vicar’s wrist and