A Bride for the Baron by Jo Ann Brown

Author:Jo Ann Brown
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

The maid knocked as Vera was about to get ready for bed. It had been a busy day with making preparations for her brother’s first service in Meriweather Hall’s chapel. She had struggled to write his sermon, unsure which lesson to include. He had been busy tending to parishioners in the village and had asked her to take over the task which she knew he despised.

She had considered verses from the twelfth chapter of Luke: “And this know, that if the goodman of the house had known what hour the thief would come, he would have watched, and not have suffered his house to be broken through. Be ye therefore ready also: for the Son of man cometh at an hour when ye think not.” But she guessed some people in the congregation would believe her brother spoke of the smugglers invading their village rather than of their Savior entering into their hearts.

She had prayed about using a passage from First Corinthians, third chapter: “For we are laborers together with God: ye are God’s husbandry, ye are God’s building. According to the grace of God which is given unto me, as a wise master builder, I have laid the foundation, and another buildeth thereon. But let every man take heed how he buildeth thereupon. For other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ.”

That seemed to be a lesson that would not infuriate the smugglers who sat with them like lions among the lambs. Usually, once she decided on the lesson, she could write the sermon easily. Not today.

Maybe because the day had been an unsettling one. She had hoped that when Edmund came to dinner that evening, he would have had something to share about what he had discovered about the flask. He had only glanced in her direction upon entering the dining room, and he had shaken his head slightly. She had never had a chance to speak with him because his aunt had spent the whole meal lamenting that Lillian had returned to Sir Nigel’s house.

“Just when I thought you two were becoming much better acquainted,” Mrs. Uppington had said with a look in Edmund’s direction that would have quelled most men.

He had borne it with a smile. “I am sure we will see Miss Kightly soon.”

“On Sunday in the chapel.”

At that, Edmund had turned to Vera who had to shrug. She had had no idea why Mrs. Uppington had been certain that Lillian would be attending Sunday services at Meriweather Hall.

“It is Mothering Sunday, if you will recall,” his aunt had said before smiling at Lady Meriweather, who, like Vera and Gregory, seldom had a chance to slip in a single word during the evening meal. “Our hostess has invited the parishioners to stay at Meriweather Hall for a celebration feast, as she does each year.”

Vera wondered how Mothering Sunday had snuck up on them so quickly. It meant Easter was three weeks away. Time had sped past, unnoticed, while she had worked with Edmund.

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