“My sister thought you were a princess, but I could tell you were too plainly dressed,” said the twin with the scar above his left eye.
“And your shoes are old,” Cymbeline said.
“Cymbeline,” Lord Barnes said. “That’s impolite.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Cooper,” Cymbeline said.
“It’s quite all right. My shoes are old.” I smiled through my embarrassment. My poverty shamed me even though I knew it had nothing to do with my character. I’d found over the years that it was impossible to hide how poor my family and I were. Shabby clothes and shoes were out there for everyone to see. Regardless, they couldn’t see the inside of me. In there, I was rich with dreams and imagination and my big heart. No one could ever mock those or make me feel inadequate. They were mine. “True enough. I can assure you I’m not a princess.” Far from it. From the appearance of this elaborate house and almost as many servants as children, I had a distinct impression the members of the Barnes family would not have the slightest understanding of the scarcity from which I’d come. As if in agreement, my empty stomach growled again. I put my hand over the front of my dress, praying no one had heard.
“Ah, biscuits aren’t going to do it now.” Lizzie shook her head and tutted. She must have good hearing. I willed myself not to blush, but it was too late. My cheeks burned. Why did embarrassing incidents always happen to me? Who flew from a sleigh into a tree and was rendered unconscious during the first thirty minutes of arrival in a strange place? I knew the answer to that. Me.
“May I warm up some of my chicken stew for her?” Lizzie asked.
My mouth watered so much I was afraid I might drool to add to my embarrassment.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Lord Barnes said. “Fix her a tray. I don’t think we should let her up just yet.”
“Agreed.” Lizzie beamed. “I’ve fresh bread too, Miss Cooper. It’ll put some meat on your bones.” Lizzie swept from the room, her long black skirt whirling around her ankles.
Lord Barnes cleared his throat. “Before we get you a warm meal, Miss Cooper, allow me to introduce you to the Barnes children. Line up now.”
The five arranged themselves in a neat line—oldest to youngest, like stairsteps, other than the twins, who made an even landing.
Lord Barnes stood behind them. “As you’ve heard already, this is Josephine, age thirteen.”
“Good evening, Miss Cooper,” Josephine said.
“Hello, again. What’re you reading?” I asked.
“The Wonderful Wizard of Oz,” Josephine said. “For the second time.”
I let out an exaggerated sigh. “I love that book. I’ve read it at least a dozen times. How lucky you are to have a copy of your very own.”
Josephine smiled shyly, then glanced up at her father. “Papa knows the publisher.”
I was too shocked to think of a response and simply nodded dumbly.
Lord Barnes continued. “This is Theo and Flynn. They just turned nine last month.” He put a hand on each of their heads. “This is Flynn on the left.”
Flynn had the scar. He was the wild one of the two, probably always getting into scrapes. Whereas the other seemed cautious and scholarly. Flynn looked me directly in the eyes and spoke in the high-pitched voice of a young boy. “How do you do, Miss Cooper?” His mouth twitched as if he were trying not to smile.
I smiled at him, and I was rewarded with a grin that rivaled the brightest spring morning. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“This is Theo,” Lord Barnes said. “Say hello to Miss Cooper, son.”
Theo stared at the floor rather than me and mumbled a version of his brother’s greeting. Or at least I thought so. I wasn’t able to decipher exactly.
Lord Barnes moved to stand behind the second-to-youngest. “This is Cymbeline. You have to watch out for her. She’s almost always looking for mischief, and her tongue has a mind of its own.”
“I’m sorry you’re not a princess.” A clumsy curtsy in mimic of her sister caused Cymbeline’s dark curls to bounce. “But you’re pretty so I don’t mind as much as I normally would.”
“Is it true you’re always looking for mischief?” I asked.
Cymbeline bit her lip and looked downward before returning my gaze. “I’m spirited.” She drew the word out as if she’d overheard an adult say it and wasn’t exactly sure what it meant. I suspected she’d heard it from her father, perhaps in defense of her to the grumpy nanny.
“More like sassy,” Josephine said.
Cymbeline shot her sister a dark look before returning her gaze to me.
“And finally, Fiona,” Lord Barnes said.
Fiona’s curtsy more closely resembled a bow. “I don’t get to go to school.”
“Not yet, but soon enough,” I said.
“I’m a sweetheart,” Fiona said. “Everyone loves me the best.”
I bit the inside of my lip to keep from laughing.
“Fiona, hush now,” Nanny said. “Boasting is not acceptable.”
“Papa says I am.” Fiona crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip.
“I do, yes.” Lord Barnes scooped Fiona into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “But you must obey Nanny and remember to be humble.”
“How?” Fiona asked.
“This child,” Nanny Foster muttered.
Fiona’s eyes flashed with temper before she buried her face in Lord Barnes’s shoulder.
“And this is the woman who takes care of these mischief-makers. Nanny Foster,” Lord Barnes said. “Like you, she’s from back east.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said.
“Likewise, Miss Cooper,” Nanny said. “Good luck surviving the winter.”
I swallowed, unsure how to react.
“Our mama died,” Cymbeline said.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “My father died.”
“Are you sad?” Cymbeline asked.
“I am. But he’s in heaven now,” I said.
“Like Mother,” Josephine said, then promptly flushed pink.
Nanny Foster had crossed her arms over her chest. Her complexion now resembled a purple turnip. I wasn’t sure of the offense, but clearly the children were not behaving as she wanted them to. She also disapproved of Lord Barnes’s lack of formality with his offspring. It was unusual to see a man so outwardly affectionate. I suspected it was even more uncommon for an Englishman.
However, Lord Barnes was both mother and father.
“It’s time for the children to go to bed,” Nanny said. “You may each take one cookie and head upstairs.”
“Yes, off you go,” Lord Barnes said as he held out his arms. The children, one by one, kissed him and filed out of the room.
Seconds after they left, Jasper announced the arrival of Dr. Moore.
My head did ache. Still, I wished the doctor hadn’t been called. All this fuss was unnecessary. I’d wanted to give a good impression, one of an independent, educated woman, and now I was in the library of an actual English lord looking like a complete fool as well as a frail damsel in distress. Where was my plucky inner heroine when I needed her?
“Let’s take a look at you,” Dr. Moore said. He set his doctor’s bag on the floor and asked me to lie back against the couch.
“I’m really fine, Dr. Moore.” Regardless, I did as was asked of me.
The doctor picked up my arm and felt the pulse at my wrist. Embarrassed to be touched, I peeked at him through my lashes. His white hair and neatly trimmed beard gave him the appearance of an esteemed doctor. However, his hard gray eyes and a strong odor of alcohol on his breath did nothing to instill my confidence in his abilities.
The doctor placed his hands on my scalp and felt around.
I yelped as he pressed his fingers into the bump.
“Does that hurt?” he asked.
I nodded. “Did my cry of pain give you a clue?”
“Be gentle, Moore,” Lord Barnes said from somewhere in the room. “Miss Cooper’s been throug
h enough.”
“She has a bump the size of an egg,” Moore said in a tone that implied it was my fault. If only I had a head strong enough to withstand a collision with a tree.
He asked me to follow his finger back and forth. “No troubles seeing, then?” he asked.
“No, Doctor.”
“Double vision?”
I shook my head.
“Excellent. My diagnosis is you have a large bump on your head. Nothing to worry about, but I’d suggest a good meal and a decent night’s rest, and you’ll wake up right as rain.”
His assessment didn’t give me complete faith in his scientific qualifications. My mother could have identified a bump and advised bed. However, his recommendation of a meal warmed me to him somewhat.
The doctor pulled out a vial of white powder. “Give her this in some brandy,” Dr. Moore said.
I wasn’t certain what the brandy was for, but I didn’t want to cause further attention by asking.
As the doctor was leaving, Lizzie came in with a tray of food. “Do you feel well enough to eat?” she asked.
“Always,” I said.
Lord Barnes instructed me to sit at a small round table with two chairs near the fire. A checkerboard occupied the center, but Lord Barnes moved it to the mantel to make room. Lizzie set the meal down as Jasper led me over to the chair all the while looking at me with a mixture of concern and disdain, as if my unfortunate incident had him worried about my abilities to teach a school full of students along with my general character.
“Lizzie, this smells delightful,” I said, hoping to sound sophisticated when all I wanted to do was wolf it down as fast as I could.
“Thank you.” Lizzie stood there, beaming at me. I had the distinct feeling that Lizzie wanted to be my friend.
Jasper cleared his throat. “That will be all, Lizzie. You may retire for the evening.”
“But what about clearing away the dishes?” Lizzie’s brows came together, making her pretty face surprisingly intimidating.
“I’ll take care of it,” Jasper said. From what I’d gathered thus far, other than his pursed lips, Jasper’s facial muscles weren’t capable of movement. His eyes, however, told the story of his mind. When they looked at Lizzie, I detected complex feelings of love, fear, impatience, and a need for control. Of what, I wasn’t sure. His own feelings or her obedience? How very English they all were.
Lizzie’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, as if she’d love nothing more than to smack his condescending mouth. “Yes, sir.” She made an exaggerated curtsy and then headed out with her head held high.
I exchanged a glance with Lord Barnes, who hovered near the fire. He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug and smiled.
Jasper set a short tumbler of brandy on the tray. I wasn’t in the habit of a brandy before or after supper—my family were lucky to have a meal, let alone a drink—but I had to admit the potent smell gave a hint of its warming abilities.
I thanked him. He nodded before moving away to stand on the other side of the room.
“May I sit with you, Miss Cooper?” Lord Barnes asked.
Strangely, this request made me flush with heat. “Please.”
He set a glass of brandy on the table before taking the chair opposite me. When he crossed one leg over the other, I noticed his fine black leather boots and the expensive wool material of his suit.
I crossed my ankles. These old boots tattled my tale too well.
“Please, eat,” Lord Barnes said. “We’ll talk after your stomach is full.”
I couldn’t resist any longer. As politely as I could, I scooped the savory stew into a spoon and took a bite that tasted of butter, garlic, and rosemary. To my embarrassment, a groan of ecstasy erupted from my chest.
Lord Barnes chuckled. “Lizzie’s chicken stew is enough to make a grown man weep with happiness.”
I nodded and wiped my mouth, then picked up the brandy and took a sip. Holy God, what poison was this that made my throat burn thus? I gasped, then coughed so hard that my eyes watered, and I had to clench my butt cheeks together to keep from tooting. The very last thing I needed was eruptions from my nether regions to escape in front of my new employer. Speaking of embarrassing body function, I wondered if I’d drooled while unconscious. Why, why, why had this happened?
Lord Barnes had scooted to the edge of his chair during my coughing fit, his brows knitted together. “Are you all right, Miss Cooper?”
“Yes, thank you. I’m not used to brandy. I had no idea it was awful.”
“It’s an acquired taste.” Damn those laughing eyes. They were most certainly laughing at me. Any attempt at acting sophisticated was now impossible. I’d embarrassed myself since the moment I entered this house. I decided to finish my meal in silence and without another sip of brandy.
I took another bite of a carrot so tender it melted on my tongue. A chunk of chicken was next. When had my chewing become so loud? I swallowed, self-conscious. Lord Barnes watched me with amusement mixed with apprehension.
“I’m fine now, Lord Barnes.”
“Are you quite sure? I can’t have you almost dying on me for the second time in one night.”
“I’m hardly dying despite your attempt to murder me with that foul liquid.”
He slapped the tabletop and laughed. “Miss Cooper, you’re nothing if not unexpected.”
Unexpected? I could say the same for him, I thought, as I shoved more stew into my mouth.
He put several more logs on the fire and returned to his chair, gazing into the flames with a reflective expression.
Thankful he was no longer worried about my death from brandy, I took a good look around the room. Dimly lit with gas lamps and the fire, it was impossible to pick out titles of the books that lined the shelves. I’d have to sneak a peek later. Just the idea of this many books in one home took my breath away. What would it be like to have access to them any time one wanted?
The fireplace was made from river rock in shades of gray. Portraits of two women hung on the wall, one fair-haired with a thin face and enormous green eyes, the other robust with the black hair and eyes like Lord Barnes. I guessed them to be of his late wife and his mother, respectively. If I were correct, Josephine looked very much like her mother.
The hardback chairs where Lord Barnes and I sat had cushions made of soft brown leather. After the hardness of the train seat, my bony bottom appreciated them even though they were too tall for me. I had to sit on the edge so that my feet could touch the floor. A large desk took up one corner of the room. Two couches, one of which had been my area of recuperation, faced each other over a coffee table. In all my life, I’d never been in a finer room.
“I brought the books from my home in England,” he said, as if I’d asked. “I collect more during my trips to Denver and Chicago.”
“What brought you here?” I blurted out.
“This will sound strange to you, no doubt. Although, as eldest son I was set to inherit my father’s title and estate, I knew from the time I was young that I would have to find my own way. I gave it all up to come to America. My younger brother happily took my place. He was better suited for the life. I wanted adventures. Jasper and I left for America, landing in New York, where we spent a few months exploring. While there, I read about a former mining town in the mountains that had burned to the ground. I decided to come out here and see about buying property for investment purposes. When we arrived, it was a summer day and the sky a brilliant blue against the white tips of the mountains.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “It was like falling in love. I had to have her. The land, that is. I decided to build a town for honest, hardworking families to have an opportunity to own businesses or farms. So I did.”
“But how? I don’t understand.”
“I put an advertisement in the Chicago and Denver papers, offering to build and lease buildings or farmland for anyone willing to come here. Even with the train from Denver able to bring supplies, it behooved us to be self-sufficient. T
herefore, farmers willing to raise cattle and fresh produce on my land in exchange for keeping the profits outweighed much of the risk.”
“And they came?”
“Not all who applied were accepted.” He shrugged. “It was a rather laborious process.”
“What about the people who were already here? The ones before the fire.”
“Many left before I could offer them work, but those who stayed were able to make enough to live better than they had before. You’d be surprised how many men it takes to build a town from nothing.”
I nodded, thinking about the construction I’d witnessed in Boston as I walked from the slums to the wealthier neighborhoods.
“Anyway, the men who came to open businesses brought families. Those children are why you’re here.”
I watched him, interested to know more—to know everything about him. The only thing I knew for sure was that the man sitting across from me was a soul made of complex layers. “What would make you want to do something like this? Build a town?”
“I wanted a community for my children. We are stronger as a team of people rather than acting entirely alone. Truth be told, I craved a village. I’m a pasty Englishman at heart.”
I laughed. “There’s nothing pasty about you, Lord Barnes.” The moment I said it, my cheeks burned. I could almost hear the gasp from my mother if she’d been here.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He smiled in a way that was closer to a smirk than a grin. My fingers twitched with a sudden need to touch that mouth, to feel the hardness of his lips.
I focused on my food, reminding myself that it was best when I kept quiet. When I was done, I set down my spoon. “Thank you for supper.”
“You’re welcome.” One of Lord Barnes’s eyebrows raised as he cocked his head to one side. I shuttered my eyes and looked away, shy. Something in his gaze gave me a prickly, raw feeling, as if I were naked. Not that I’d ever been undressed in front of a man. If I had, I imagined it to feel like this—exhilarating and terrifying.
Jasper swooped over to collect my tray. His silent, swift movements were disconcerting. Had he been in the room the entire time?
The Sugar Queen Page 3