The Spinster (Emerson Pass Historicals 2)

I set out to tidy up the chairs and tables, humming to myself to keep from worrying about the incoming blizzard. Would Papa have had the same instinct about the blizzard and sent Phillip to fetch us early? We might have to stay at his office for the night. He always had some food stashed away and bedding just for this purpose. There was always plenty of firewood for the stove, so we would be warm there.

Was I worrying too much? I had this strange feeling of foreboding. You’re being silly, I thought. Everything’s fine.

I went to the back-facing windows and peered outside. The snow was more like ice, and the wind had picked up, slamming against the side of the building.

When the bells over the front doors rang out, I turned around, expecting Phillip. I’d forgotten to lock the front doors, so preoccupied with the weather. I froze, staring. For a moment, I couldn’t comprehend the vision before me. It was not Phillip as I’d expected but someone else. No, it can’t be. Not him. No. I was seeing things. I shook my head and blinked. But when I opened my eyes, the sight before me couldn’t be denied. My head grew light. I stumbled forward, grasping the back of a chair to keep from falling.

It was not Phillip in the doorway but Walter Green. A living, breathing Walter Green.

Phillip

A half hour before I was to leave for town to pick Jo and Fiona up at the library, I knocked on the door of Lord Barnes’s study. It was now or never. My stomach turned as I waited for him to answer.

“Yes, who is it?”

“Phillip, sir. Could I have a word, please?”

“Yes, yes. Come in.”

I opened the door with damp fingers. “Excuse me, Lord Barnes, for the interruption.”

He sat in a leather reading chair next to a roaring fire. A book lay facedown on his lap. I’d interrupted his reading time.

“Is this a bad time?” I asked.

“Not at all. What’s on your mind?”

I’d not been in Lord Barnes’s study before now. Josephine had told me it was his private sanctuary and that only Quinn was ever invited to sit with him. A simple, manly room with dark green furniture and a skinny mahogany desk. Lamplight against dark paneling cast a cozy yellow glow. This was Lord Barnes’s sanctuary from the world and a busy household. I should be brief, I thought. He would want to get back to his book.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“I was about to partake in a whiskey. Would you care for one?” Lord Barnes asked.

“Thank you, sir. Shall I get them?”

“Please.” He put a feather bookmark in the novel on his lap and set it aside.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your reading time.” With shaking hands I managed to pour whiskey into two glasses without spilling.

“Not a problem. I’m assuming you have something important to speak with me about.” His eyes twinkled at me. He must know why I’d come. I breathed a little easier. He wanted me to ask. He would give his permission. Jo and the boys had been right.

“Yes sir.” I handed a glass to him and waited for him to invite me to sit in t

he twin chair next to him.

“Sit, please.”

I did so, then took a swallow of whiskey. The alcohol burned my throat. I coughed and tapped my chest with one fist.

“You’re not really a whiskey man, are you now?” Lord Barnes peered over at me, clearly amused.

“Not really, no.”

“The first time I ever gave Quinn a glass, she went into a coughing fit and declared it the worst thing she’d ever put in her mouth, or something to that effect. Terrible of me, but it made me laugh.”

I placed my glass on the small table between us.

“What can I do for you, young man?”