Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 09] - Logic Of The Heart by Patricia Veryan Page B

that a sharp stone had
worked its way into the boot sole under the ball of his foot. "I'll
just get this out," he said, pulling off the boot. "Then, I'll take—"
    A sudden gust of wind sent a branch tumbling into the pit.
Priscilla heard the scraping rattle and jerked around, pale with
fright. "She's
coming
!" she screeched, and was
off, her frock flapping. Wolfgang the Terrible scampered after her,
uttering the high-pitched howls Montclair had heard when the child was
singing.
    He sprang up, started to run after her, but trod on a rock and
swore. Hopping, he turned back for his boot. "Wait! I'll take you
home!" he shouted, but she had already vanished into the trees.
    Undoubtedly Mistress Priscilla had known the benefits of
upbringing and a rather surprising amount of education. Pulling his
boot back on, he racked his brain trying to think whom the child and
her mama visited, and decided her 'Uncle Andy' must be Major Anderson,
whose fine big farm was located about a mile east of the Longhills
boundary. He began to run in that direction, calling her. It was too
far for her to walk alone, even with the protection of the fierce and
invincible guard dog.
     
    "It is quite the most wicked thing I ever heard of," declared
Mrs. Edwina Starr, extracting Welcome from the blankets and slipping a
hand mirror between the sheets.
    Susan had just piled those sheets onto the now immaculate
shelf in the linen room, and she watched her diminutive
companion/cook/housekeeper uneasily. "I think he is a very young cat,
Starry. He'll learn in time."
    "Time is what he may not have, does he persist in forever
being where he shouldn't." Mrs. Starr looked grimly at the little tabby
who had walked in with them when first they arrived at Highperch
Cottage and had since shown no inclination to leave. "But I was not
referring to that particular creature, Mrs. Sue." She took a blanket
from the chair beside her with marked suspicion in her bright hazel
eyes. "No Christian landlord should permit such a creeping, oozing,
smelly bog to lurk about the village where little ones play. And him
the Squire and a Justice of the Peace besides! A fine justice
he
dispenses! This blanket needs to be patched. He should have drained
that bog long ago! He must be a bad man! A very bad man!"
    "He most certainly is. I think I may have seen him whilst I
was at Longhills—or at least, the back of him. From what I could tell,
he was berating Miss Trent because she does not wish to wed him."
    "Hah! Who would, I should like to know?" Mrs. Starr shook out
another blanket and sniffed it, her dainty little nostrils twitching so
that she looked like a busy rabbit. "I only wish I had been here when
his wicked friends or servants or whatever they were dared lay their
hands on you and break dear Master Andy's head!" She paused, her brow
wrinkling with renewed indignation at the very thought of such
dastardly behaviour. In her mind's eye she still saw Andrew as a pale,
silent eleven-year-old, crushed by the death of his father and
bewildered by the impending loss of his mama. When Captain Tate had
asked her to care for his daughter's orphans she had agreed eagerly,
and had lavished upon them all the love she would have given the
children denied her when her young husband was killed in the same great
sea battle which had ended the life of Lieutenant Hartley Lyddford.
Andrew had been sickly as a child, and her tendency to fuss over him
had not diminished when he grew into a robust and well-built young male
animal full of pride and energy.
    "Only to think of it fairly makes my blood boil!" she went on.
"And all that wicked violence over a house which his evil lordship
obviously never sets foot in, else it would not have come to such a
sorry pass! Which reminds me, Master Andy found a dreadful dark
painting he thinks might be better than that one hanging in the
withdrawing room. The frame is quite nice and if you don't object, it
might do was it cleaned. I shall set that lazy George Dodman