Larken (5 page)

Larken gathered her hair up and out of the way so Nell could fasten the buttons on her dress. Her eyes fell onto the garment she’d just removed.

“You might as well take the other dress for a cleaning rag. Mr. King didn’t approve of it.”

Nell giggled. “I’m not surprised.”

“I wouldn’t have worn that dress if I’d known he’d see it. I’d no idea he was arriving today.”

“The staff was caught by surprise as well.” Nell finished with the last button. “Your tea is ready in your sitting room.”

“Is Myles having tea with me?”

Nell shook her head. “He’s curled up on his bed, poor lamb, and won’t talk to anyone.”

“Perhaps I can coax him out.”

“I hope so, Mrs. King. Would you like to me to fix your hair?”

“No, I’ll do it. You go on ahead.”

Larken sat at the vanity, drew the brush through her tresses, and plaited them into a loose golden braid. The less forbidding she looked, the better. No doubt Mr. King had frightened the poor child out of his wits with his surly manner, snapping dark eyes, and untamed mass of unruly hair. Before she left, she remembered to slip on her wedding ring. The feeling of the unyielding metal against her skin was unpleasant. The gold band felt more like a dog collar than a token of eternal love.

She hastened across the hall and tapped on Myles’ door, but there was no response. Undaunted, she entered the room, where a small boy was curled up into a ball on his four-poster bed, facing away from her.

“Hello,” she said. “My name is Larken.”

Silence.

She came around the far side of the bed, until she could see the boy’s face. He was an uncommonly handsome lad, albeit extraordinarily sad. Smiling, she perched herself on the side of the bed, but he gave no indication he noticed her at all.

“You and I have a lot in common,” she said. “We’re both orphans.”

His eyes shifted from a spot on the wall to her face. “But you’re old. Old people don’t have parents.”

The boy had a foreign accent. He wasn’t English, that much she could tell. How far had Mr. King traveled to bring him here?

“I’m only thirteen years older than you are,” she said. “My parents died four years ago.”

A spark of interest. “How’d they die?”

“In a train accident. I don’t like to talk about it, really.”

“My mama was run down by a carriage. I don’t like to talk about that either.”

A nod. “I’m so awfully sorry. I expect it hurts terribly to be without her.”

His face crumpled. “Go away. You’re not my mother, and you’re not even as pretty as she was.”

Myles turned over so he was facing away from her again.

“I expect she was incredibly beautiful, if she looked anything like you,” Larken said. “But you’re quite mistaken if you think I want to take her place.” She lowered her voice. “The thing is, I’m lonely. I was hoping very much you and I could be friends.”

“I’ve never been friends with a girl before.”

“Outside of a few months in the orphanage, I’ve never been friends with much of anybody. In fact, I always make up pretend friends so I have someone to talk to. Would you like to meet them?”

“That’s stupid. I can’t meet pretend friends.”

“Why not? There’s Lord Topper, who’s always in formal attire because he doesn’t want anyone to realize he’s lost all his money, and Lady Peabody, who’s exceptionally nervous and constantly fainting about one thing or another. I left poor Mr. Marmalade back in Rugby, so you can’t meet him—sorry. But Lord Apollo is waiting to meet you, and Miss Josie, the beautiful debutante. She may steal your heart, I warn you.”

Myles was giggling by then.

“I have all sorts of scrumptious things to eat in my sitting room,” she said. “Will you join me?”

He sat up. “I
am
hungry.”

She stood and beckoned him toward the door. “Come on, then. So am I. And if we’re late, Lord Topper might just wrap all the biscuits up for himself to eat later, and then what will we do?”

Another giggle. “You’re funny.”

The boy slid off the bed and joined her in the hallway. They crossed into her sitting room, where their tea was waiting. Myles’ eye grew wide at the array of treats on the table, but before Larken would let him sit, she introduced him to all her pretend friends, pointing to each chair in turn. Lord Topper’s hat was hanging over his chair from a string stuck into the rafter overhead. A silk shawl was wrapped around Lady Peabody’s chair, and a dainty parasol was propped up in Miss Josie’s seat, along with an old pair of lace gloves and a dried nosegay.

Myles slid into a chair, and Larken clapped her hand to her forehead in dismay. “Oh, dear. You’re sitting on Lord Topper’s lap!”

He laughed out loud and jumped up. “Where should I sit, then?”

She pointed to one of the three unoccupied chairs. “There will do.”

As he sat, Myles reached for a pastry and stuffed it into his mouth.

“Manners, young gentleman,” Larken admonished. “What will Miss Josie think?”

He grinned, and some of the creamy filling spilled out onto his chin. “Oops.”

Larken flicked her eyes skyward and handed him a napkin.

“You haven’t introduced me to Lord Apollo yet,” he mumbled through the food.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full.” Her manner was overly supremely prim and proper so he would know she wasn’t completely serious. She nodded toward the painting. “That’s Lord Apollo. Lord Apollo, meet Myles. He’s my new friend, from…”

“New York City.”

“New York City!” Larken was amazed. “Do you mean to say you traveled all the way across the Atlantic?”

Myles nodded. “It was rather horrible. The ocean went up and down a lot and the air inside smelled like sick almost the whole time, but there was no way to get off the ship.”

She wrinkled her nose and shuddered. “Was Mr. King kind to you at least?”

A shrug. “He doesn’t talk much. We played checkers and he read me stories in the ship’s library. When we landed in Liverwurst, my legs were wobbly.”

“Liverpool, I think you mean.”

“Yes, that’s it. Then we took trains, and after that a carriage. I’m glad I’m not traveling any longer.” He paused. “Mr. King said you and he were just married.”

“Yes.”

He looked puzzled. “Then why are you both lonely? Don’t you have each other?”

“Mr. King is lonely?” If he was truly lonely, Larken would be surprised. The man didn’t seem as if he liked or needed anyone. Despite her animosity toward her husband, she’d decided to say nothing to Myles that would cast him in a bad light. “Well, our marriage is of an unusual kind. He and I are complete strangers, but we’ve come together for you.”

“You’re not in love?”

“We don’t really know each other.” She sipped her tea. “But I suspect we’ll both grow fond of you.”

Chapter Four

Pretend Friends

A
FTER
B
RANDON
H
AD
B
ATHED
and donned fresh clothes, he felt slightly less dour. Downstairs, Mrs. Mason caught his eye as he strolled toward the library.

“Would you like your tea now, sir?”

“No, thank you, I’m not hungry. Has the lad settled in?”

“I believe he’s having tea with Mrs. King in her sitting room.”

His footsteps slowed. “Perhaps I’ll look in on them.”

He made his way to Larken’s side of the house. As he neared the open door of her sitting room, he heard his name mentioned.

“Do you think Mr. King is handsome?” Myles asked.

Somewhat keen to hear the answer, Brandon paused.

“No. Quite the contrary,” Larken said.

Brandon frowned and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Well…that’s not strictly fair,” she said. “I haven’t had a terribly good look at him.”

“I don’t like his whiskers,” Myles said. “They make him look like a bad man.”

Taken aback, Brandon lifted his hand to his chin and smoothed his beard.

“I’m sure Mr. King’s not a bad man. After all, if he traveled all the way to America to fetch you, he must have a great deal of good in him. Nevertheless, if I could be married to anyone in the world, I think it would be Lord Apollo. He’s the handsomest man I’ve ever seen.”

At that, Brandon was bewildered. Lord Apollo? Of whom was Larken speaking?

“Is the man in that painting really named Lord Apollo?”

“I’ve no idea what his name is, but the painting reminds me of an actor I met once. Apollo was the Greek god of light and the sun, by the way.”

“Did you paint him?”

“Oh, no. I found the painting in the attic and brought it down here to keep me company.”

“Attics are scary places.”

“Do you think so? I’ve spent loads of time exploring the attic since I arrived. Would you like to see it tomorrow?”

“Only if you come with me.”

“Naturally.”

Brandon’s curiosity finally got the better of him. He sauntered into the sitting room, amused at the look of alarm on Larken’s face. It seemed obvious she was wondering if he’d overheard any part of their conversation.

“Hello, Mr. King,” she managed. “Will you join us?”

“For a little while.”

He sat down underneath the dangling top hat, and for some reason Myles burst out laughing so hard and so long the boy had to hold his ribs. Mystified, Brandon raised his eyebrows at Larken, whose lips were quivering with amusement as well.

“Will someone let me in on the joke?” he asked.

“It’s just that, well, you’re sitting in Lord Topper’s lap,” she said.

“What?”

Another round of hysterical laughter from Myles.

“I’m sorry,” Brandon said. “Can you explain?”

“That’s Lord Topper you’re sitting on.” Myles pointed to Brandon’s chair, and then went around the table pointing at different chairs. That’s Lady Peabody. That’s Miss Josie.” He pointed toward the mantle. “And that’s Lord Apollo.”

Brandon’s eyes widened as he regarded the painting, and it took him a moment to find his tongue. “What a handsome devil! I didn’t realize we had any Greek gods in our family tree.”

“As you see, there’s no name plate. We were hoping you might be able to tell us who he was,” Larken said.

A shrug. “Lord Apollo seems as good a name as any.” He stood and changed his seat for the undecorated chair next to Myles. “Am I safe here?”

The boy nodded, his eyes sparkling with merriment. “I sat on Lord Topper’s lap too when I first came in.”

“The gentleman has had a very taxing evening, then. May I ask how we’ve come to have so many illustrious guests at tea?”

“They’re Larken’s pretend friends,” Myles said. “Now they’re mine, too.”

“Really? How extraordinary.” Brandon’s gaze shifted to Larken, who busied herself with the teapot.

“I invented them as a game to pass the time,” she murmured. “I tend to be whimsical.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You didn’t mention a whimsical nature on your application.”

“Why would I?” Her intelligent blue eyes gave him a level stare. “That wasn’t part of your criteria.”

It took a moment for him to realize the girl was reproaching him. Unsure how to respond, he decided to retreat.

“You’re right, it wasn’t.” Brandon smiled to cover his irritation. “Enjoy your tea party.”

Exasperated, he went for a long walk on the grounds of his estate. Larken had no right to chide him for anything, but he shouldn’t have visited her sitting room in the first place. His presence must have given the girl some ridiculous notion he was interested in her opinion one way or the other. Her sole purpose at Graceling Hall was to tend to the lad, as she’d been made aware. Fortunately, she seemed capable of drawing Myles out in a way that had eluded him. The boy hadn’t laughed during the voyage or even cracked a smile—not that Brandon had really expected it of him so soon after losing his mother. It had been surprisingly good to see the child enjoying himself so thoroughly. Whimsical or not, Larken was exactly what Myles needed, so he had no wish to deal harshly with her. Of course, he had no wish to deal with her at all.

After breakfast the following morning, Larken led Myles to the attic. He was taken aback by the sheer number of boxes.

“How do you find anything up here?” he asked, wide-eyed.