A Song of Secrets by Robyn Chalmers

Author:Robyn Chalmers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Robyn Chalmers

CHAPTER 18

IN WHICH FANNY’S ROTUNDNESS IS EXPLAINED

The next morning, Sarah found Mr. Ambrose in the kitchen, pouring steaming water from a black kettle into the blue china teapot and looking very domesticated.

The notebook she left in church sat in the middle of the table. Her eyes flew to his, finding him looking at her with an amused expression. “Yours, I believe? I had it in my coat pocket. I don’t make a habit of being angry at my congregation you know.”

He sounded defensive, perhaps misunderstood.

She shrugged. “I stand by what I said, fire and brimstone Mr. Ambrose is very fetching.”

His cheeks flared with spots of red, a sure sign she’d reached him. “That you find me fetching when I am showing my worst inclinations…I’m not sure what to make of it.”

She shrugged. “Perhaps that I see you as you are, not as others would have you? Honesty and no pretensions, as we agreed.”

Fanny had found her spot on the warm stones next to the hearth. Her little tail thumping when she saw Sarah. She patted her, and Fanny snorted and snuffled, pushing her head into Sarah’s hand while groaning in happiness.

“Isn’t she funny?” Sarah said. “What a dear little dog.”

“The boys adore her,” Mr. Ambrose said. He was wearing a fresh linen shirt, tucked into buckskin breeches. The everyday clothing suited him well, the breeches hugging his long, lean legs, and the sleeves of the shirt rolled up to display muscular forearms. The kitchen was small but had a clean hearth that looked serviceable. How many afternoons had she watched her mother bake scones on a griddle just like it? How many songs had Mother requested she sing, even from the age of five, while she worked? It was unlikely Mr. Ambrose would ask her to sing for him. She smiled at the thought.

“Tea,” she said. “It smells nice and strong.”

“That’s because it is, Mrs. Hayworth,” he said simply and brought the teapot over to the rustic wooden table that looked as though it had served many a meal.

She sat at the table, her head in one hand. “Don’t you think that after everything we went through last night, we might call each other by our given names?”

He stopped mid pour and considered her, his eyes twinkling. “You mean that battling a fire together puts us on more intimate terms?”

“I think perhaps kissing me into oblivion puts us on more intimate terms.”

He pretended to ponder it. “I think you may be right.” He finished pouring and placed the cup in front of her. “Your tea, Sarah.”

“Thank you, Evander.”

She watched as a slow blush crept up his neck. He quickly poured his own. “My grandmother always preferred to eat here, near the hearth. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. It’s a lovely view into the back garden.” She drank some tea and looked out at the view. Snow had fallen overnight and covered everything in sight. “Oh.”

He put his teacup down. “What?”

“Look at the snow!” Large flurries fell as far as the eye could see and had settled over the garden making it look like it was covered in white fondant.

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