Page 15 of Dared By a Lyon
“Our family cook taught me everything she knew. I was about Caro’s age when I started. Cook gave me some very sage advice.She said, ‘It doesn’t matter if you live in a fancy house or a modest one; it’s always good to know how to feed yourself.’”
“A wise woman indeed,” he said as he leaned against the table, and Miss Vickers made her way to the pantry and returned with a jar of honey and a tin of biscuits.
“Aha! I found the stash,” she said, opening the tin and inhaling the scent. She closed her eyes and sighed in rapture.
Damn!Gabriel suddenly yearned to put that same look upon her face for a different reason.
She retrieved a plate and set out several biscuits, then returned to the stove, took a kitchen cloth hanging on a metal hook, wrapped it around the handle of the pot of heated milk, and carried it to the table. Gabriel passed her both cups, and she filled them both with steaming milk. “Honey?”
He blinked, thinking momentarily that she was calling him that. He cleared his throat. “Sure, why not?”
She gave him another one of her pretty smiles and poured a teaspoon of honey into each cup.
Remembering his manners, he pulled out her chair, and as she sat, he slid the chair in and could not help breathing in the sweet scent of honeysuckle and lemon.
They sat and sipped their milk. He passed her the plate, and she took a biscuit. Dipping it into the milk, she took a bite and closed her eyes, seeming to savor the taste.
He tried not to think about how unconsciously sensual she was just in the simple act of enjoying a biscuit. There was something different about Miss Vickers. Something he couldn’t even name.
He finished the biscuit and drank the milk, all the while trying to fathom the extraordinary circumstances of finding himself seated across from this unique young woman—an American heiress with a charming accent, and a beauty that seemed to glow about her.
“I hope I am not overstepping,” she said in a soft tone, “but I noticed that the child sleepwalked and did not speak, only whimpered…”
“Yes, my apologies. I had every intention of telling you about Caroline.”
“She is a lovely child.”
“Yes, she is,” he said, holding the warm cup between his hands. “Caro is my niece—my sister Olivia’s child. She is seven years old. Tonight marks the third anniversary of the death of my sister, her husband, Max, and my betrothed, Juliet. It was a horrible, tragic carriage accident that happened on a stormy night, much like the one that brought you here. The carriage was crossing a bridge, the bridge had several broken slats, and the carriage slid off and into the water, and…” He fell silent for a moment. “Caro was with them, but my brother-in-law managed to break the glass, and Olivia held her daughter and passed her through the window into the arms of their footman. He and several others had jumped into the river to rescue them…but the current was too strong. Caro was the only survivor. She hasn’t spoken a word since that night.”
Miss Vickers looked away, wiping tears from her eyes, and he realized he must have been too blunt in his explanation.
“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to upset you. I often think about that night, and sometimes the details just come rushing out about the accident before I even notice,” he said.
Strangely, for the first time in a long time, he was able to speak about it without feeling the crushing in his chest. Was he finally starting to accept the loss? Of course, he missed his sister and her husband, and Juliet, but this was the first time he’d felt as though he were anchored to the present and not the past.
He realized he was holding Miss Vickers’s hand. He must have instinctively reached for it when he’d apologized for upsetting her.
“It is not your telling of it, but the tragedy of it that is so upsetting,” she said. “That sweet child… Please continue.”
He nodded. “As I mentioned, I went up to check on Caro, as I usually do, before retiring for the night.”
Miss Vickers continued to hold on to his hand. He didn’t mind one bit. In fact, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
“I’m Caro’s guardian,” he added. “I wish I were a better one. A better uncle.” It felt different talking to her.
“I can see how much you love her. And that makes you the very best guardian and uncle.” Wiping away another tear, she looked up at him and smiled tremulously. “I’m so sorry about the loss of your sister, husband, and fiancée. I can’t begin to understand the pain and sorrow your family has endured. But I think Caro is surrounded by people who love her and care about her, and I believe she will heal.”
“What you did for Caro… It was very kind. You have the voice of an angel.”
Miss Vickers blushed and sat back, reaching for her cup. She took a sip of milk.
He felt the immediate loss of contact with her hand in his and wanted it back.
“I was asleep,” she said after a few moments. “I heard whimpering, and the next thing I knew, a child was climbing into bed with me. I realized she was sleepwalking—I could tell because a cousin of mine suffered from it as a child.”
Gabriel wondered if the cousin she referred to was the same young woman with whom she had traveled to England. Come to think of it, why hadn’t her cousin or a companion been in the carriage with her?
“Caro needed to be held, so I held her,” she continued, “and I found myself humming a lullaby that my mother would sing to me when I was a child. I was grateful Caro fell back asleep.”
