"Oh, Roger..." Margaret pressed one hand to her bosom. "I'm so sorry..."
"Don't." His voice was sharp, his expression forbidding. "Don't say anything like that to me about the matter. I'm very happy for Katherine."
She reached out to touch his hand, feeling sad at the stabbing pain in his eyes. "Then I am too, of course," she said.
A commotion from down the hall made them both look up. The children were running toward them with energetic cries, trailed by a tall, dark-haired man. For a moment, as Margaret met his stern gray eyes, she almost didn't recognize him. The expression on his face chilled her. She jerked her hand away from Roger's and stood quickly.
"Drew!" Roger moved toward him quickly. He shook his hand and clapped him on the back. "What a pleasure! It's been too long since I've seen you, old chap."
"Roger." Drew's lips upturned in a terse smile and he shook his old friend's hand firmly. Then he turned his hard stare back to Margaret. "Who is this girl?"
Margaret stood quickly, looking at him with astonishment.
Roger chuckled with surprise. "Why, Drew, don't you recognize our old friend, Margaret?" he asked. "She looks after your brothers and sisters now, of course."
"Of course," he said, striding toward her on legs that seemed impossibly long. "How do you do, Margaret?"
"Very well, Drew." She felt hot color creep to her face and looked away from him quickly, uncomfortable at his stare. How handsome he was! He had only grown more so in the years he had been away at college. But there was something quite different about his face now. It was no longer boyish, but quite stern. His gray eyes were hard as stones.
"We were just about to have lunch, Drew," Roger said. "Please join us."
The three of them sat. The children had taken advantage of the commotion and were eating sloppily, allowing mustard and dressing to slip from their sandwiches onto the table and onto their clothes.
Margaret had been so disturbed by Drew's sudden appearance that she had not noticed them. Now she rose quickly and went to them, lifting a napkin and wiping Duncan's dirty face. "Use your napkins!" she commanded sharply. "And sit straight in your chairs. Lean over your plates. Where are your manners, children?"
Drew's eyes followed Margaret's movements, and his gaze lingered on her as Roger spoke to him. "You're home far sooner than we expected," he said. "Was your train early?"
"I took a different train," he said, his gaze flint-hard. "I didn't want a fuss made over my return. I came early to avoid any whoo-doo." He made an absent wave with his hand.
Margaret returned to her seat once the children were behaving properly. She realized with discomfiture that she was as nervous as she had been around Drew eight years ago. Her hand trembled as she poured tea for all of them.
Drew's eyes were trained on her face. "What are you still doing here, Margaret?" he asked. "I thought you would go off to school."
Her face colored. Surely he must know that she was too poor to attend finishing school. Calmly she set the teapot down and picked up the cream. "When my father died, I became an orphan. I had no money. I have been working since I was twenty." She managed to return his gaze directly.
He looked her over thoughtfully. "Here?" he asked.
"I have had other jobs. Mr. Russell has employed me to look after the children in light of your mother's illness. I have had sufficient training in grade school to teach the children," she said quickly, feeling defensive under his gaze.
His black, slender brows rose on his pale face at her words. "Of course," he said with surprise. "You were always a very intelligent girl." His brows developed a crook and his lips twisted. "If not a little willful. I hope that you have grown past taking dares. It can get you into trouble."
Margaret smiled at him mockingly over her tea cup. "I am not above a dare," she said.
He leaned closer to her. "Really?" he asked. "I might impose one on you. Challenge how much courage you really have."
She leaned forward. "I think you will find that I am not easily bested. You will have to use your imagination."
"I have quite an imagination." He leaned closer still, his gray eyes sparking with the first life she had seen since he had come through the door. "I fear my capacity for imagination might shock you."
Roger cleared his throat, startled Margaret from the intriguing depths of Drew's gaze. She looked at Roger, feeling a little dizzy.
"Don't." His voice was sharp, his expression forbidding. "Don't say anything like that to me about the matter. I'm very happy for Katherine."
She reached out to touch his hand, feeling sad at the stabbing pain in his eyes. "Then I am too, of course," she said.
A commotion from down the hall made them both look up. The children were running toward them with energetic cries, trailed by a tall, dark-haired man. For a moment, as Margaret met his stern gray eyes, she almost didn't recognize him. The expression on his face chilled her. She jerked her hand away from Roger's and stood quickly.
"Drew!" Roger moved toward him quickly. He shook his hand and clapped him on the back. "What a pleasure! It's been too long since I've seen you, old chap."
"Roger." Drew's lips upturned in a terse smile and he shook his old friend's hand firmly. Then he turned his hard stare back to Margaret. "Who is this girl?"
Margaret stood quickly, looking at him with astonishment.
Roger chuckled with surprise. "Why, Drew, don't you recognize our old friend, Margaret?" he asked. "She looks after your brothers and sisters now, of course."
"Of course," he said, striding toward her on legs that seemed impossibly long. "How do you do, Margaret?"
"Very well, Drew." She felt hot color creep to her face and looked away from him quickly, uncomfortable at his stare. How handsome he was! He had only grown more so in the years he had been away at college. But there was something quite different about his face now. It was no longer boyish, but quite stern. His gray eyes were hard as stones.
"We were just about to have lunch, Drew," Roger said. "Please join us."
The three of them sat. The children had taken advantage of the commotion and were eating sloppily, allowing mustard and dressing to slip from their sandwiches onto the table and onto their clothes.
Margaret had been so disturbed by Drew's sudden appearance that she had not noticed them. Now she rose quickly and went to them, lifting a napkin and wiping Duncan's dirty face. "Use your napkins!" she commanded sharply. "And sit straight in your chairs. Lean over your plates. Where are your manners, children?"
Drew's eyes followed Margaret's movements, and his gaze lingered on her as Roger spoke to him. "You're home far sooner than we expected," he said. "Was your train early?"
"I took a different train," he said, his gaze flint-hard. "I didn't want a fuss made over my return. I came early to avoid any whoo-doo." He made an absent wave with his hand.
Margaret returned to her seat once the children were behaving properly. She realized with discomfiture that she was as nervous as she had been around Drew eight years ago. Her hand trembled as she poured tea for all of them.
Drew's eyes were trained on her face. "What are you still doing here, Margaret?" he asked. "I thought you would go off to school."
Her face colored. Surely he must know that she was too poor to attend finishing school. Calmly she set the teapot down and picked up the cream. "When my father died, I became an orphan. I had no money. I have been working since I was twenty." She managed to return his gaze directly.
He looked her over thoughtfully. "Here?" he asked.
"I have had other jobs. Mr. Russell has employed me to look after the children in light of your mother's illness. I have had sufficient training in grade school to teach the children," she said quickly, feeling defensive under his gaze.
His black, slender brows rose on his pale face at her words. "Of course," he said with surprise. "You were always a very intelligent girl." His brows developed a crook and his lips twisted. "If not a little willful. I hope that you have grown past taking dares. It can get you into trouble."
Margaret smiled at him mockingly over her tea cup. "I am not above a dare," she said.
He leaned closer to her. "Really?" he asked. "I might impose one on you. Challenge how much courage you really have."
She leaned forward. "I think you will find that I am not easily bested. You will have to use your imagination."
"I have quite an imagination." He leaned closer still, his gray eyes sparking with the first life she had seen since he had come through the door. "I fear my capacity for imagination might shock you."
Roger cleared his throat, startled Margaret from the intriguing depths of Drew's gaze. She looked at Roger, feeling a little dizzy.