“And make PapaGabe let MyLacey stay. Amen,” she said on a rush.
Lacey bit her lip on a bubble of laughter.
After offering each of them her rosebud lips, Bridget settled on her side. Gabriel tucked her blankets to her chin and kissed her brow one last time. Lacey stood watching until Bridget opened one eye as if to say “well?”
Lacey kissed her nose. “See you for Boxty and jam in the morning. Sleep well.”
They left the room with Gabriel’s hand at her elbow, thank God, for Lacey could not have made it on her own. “I’m sorry,” she whispered the minute he shut Bridget’s door.
“For what?”
“Don’t even try to cozen me, Gabriel Kendrick,” Lacey whispered. “I’m the little girl who knew you better than you knew yourself. You’d give your right arm to have Bridget say she loves you, and I walk in and get it handed to me on a silver salver.”
He sighed and opened his warm hand against her back as if to walk her to her bedroom door, yet he remained in the same spot. “I fell in love with her, Lace, the first time Clara placed her in my arms. You should have seen her. She was the tiniest thing, even at two, with a thick crown of raven curls all over her head. She used to love it when I played with her, Clara egging us on. If I pretended she was exhausting me, Bridget would laugh and tease me until I gave her more attention. “
“What happened between you then, so it’s come to this?” Lacey asked.
“Cricket’s laughter stopped when Clara got sick, and since she died, Bridget hasn’t directed more than a word, and never a smile, my way. Yes, she said she loved you, but she calle d m e PapaGabe, and frankly, that’s the best I’ve had from her in a long while. It’s as if she thinks—” He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re going to think I’m daft, but I feel as if she blames me somehow for Clara’s death.”
“Oh, Gabriel, no.” Lacey had never wanted to comfort him more. The urge was so great and dangerous, she stepped from his touch. “I’m sure she doesn’t. She’s simply a little girl who’s lost her mother, confused and sad. She’ll be happy again soon.”
“She will if you stay. You heard her. One day with you and she’s more herself than she’s been in months.” He turned away, ran his hand through the roguish disarray he’d already made of his hair, and turned back as if he didn’t know where to put himself.
“I’m not saying this because of Bridget, though you know I’d give my life for her, so I suppose I couldn’t fault you for thinking I’d lie for her because I would.” He raised his arms and dropped them. “Blast, I’m making a muddle of this. It’s been a relief being able to discuss my concern for her with you.”
He sighed. “I’m trying to say that this has been a good day for me. too, becaus e you’r e here . . . for me, too, not just for her.”
“Gabriel Kendrick, I do believe that’s the most you’ve ever said to me, or anyone.”
He looked sheepish. “Wait till you hear one of my sermons.”
She grinned.
“Stay, Lace. For as long as you want.”
“There’ll be talk.”
“To the devil with the gossipmongers. That’s the devil’s talk. Worthless.”
“But painful.” She spoke true with no idea it would begin so soon.
It rained on the day of the first puppet show, so Gabe arranged to bring Ivy’s gypsy wagon and puppet stage into the carriage house. Like other Ashcroft Estate buildings, the carriage house sat nearer to Rectory Cottage, away from the castle her family once owned. Gabe’s church, farm, and cottage, though they belonged to the Ashcroft Estate as well, were also situated on this distant corner of estate property.
More than the local children attended the puppet show. Prout the Malevolent—Gabriel’s “patron”—led the charge of the gossipmongers. Her ample bosom heaved as she watched and tattled, and Lace heard the word s exiled in disgrac e an d Society for Downtrodden
Lacey bit her lip on a bubble of laughter.
After offering each of them her rosebud lips, Bridget settled on her side. Gabriel tucked her blankets to her chin and kissed her brow one last time. Lacey stood watching until Bridget opened one eye as if to say “well?”
Lacey kissed her nose. “See you for Boxty and jam in the morning. Sleep well.”
They left the room with Gabriel’s hand at her elbow, thank God, for Lacey could not have made it on her own. “I’m sorry,” she whispered the minute he shut Bridget’s door.
“For what?”
“Don’t even try to cozen me, Gabriel Kendrick,” Lacey whispered. “I’m the little girl who knew you better than you knew yourself. You’d give your right arm to have Bridget say she loves you, and I walk in and get it handed to me on a silver salver.”
He sighed and opened his warm hand against her back as if to walk her to her bedroom door, yet he remained in the same spot. “I fell in love with her, Lace, the first time Clara placed her in my arms. You should have seen her. She was the tiniest thing, even at two, with a thick crown of raven curls all over her head. She used to love it when I played with her, Clara egging us on. If I pretended she was exhausting me, Bridget would laugh and tease me until I gave her more attention. “
“What happened between you then, so it’s come to this?” Lacey asked.
“Cricket’s laughter stopped when Clara got sick, and since she died, Bridget hasn’t directed more than a word, and never a smile, my way. Yes, she said she loved you, but she calle d m e PapaGabe, and frankly, that’s the best I’ve had from her in a long while. It’s as if she thinks—” He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re going to think I’m daft, but I feel as if she blames me somehow for Clara’s death.”
“Oh, Gabriel, no.” Lacey had never wanted to comfort him more. The urge was so great and dangerous, she stepped from his touch. “I’m sure she doesn’t. She’s simply a little girl who’s lost her mother, confused and sad. She’ll be happy again soon.”
“She will if you stay. You heard her. One day with you and she’s more herself than she’s been in months.” He turned away, ran his hand through the roguish disarray he’d already made of his hair, and turned back as if he didn’t know where to put himself.
“I’m not saying this because of Bridget, though you know I’d give my life for her, so I suppose I couldn’t fault you for thinking I’d lie for her because I would.” He raised his arms and dropped them. “Blast, I’m making a muddle of this. It’s been a relief being able to discuss my concern for her with you.”
He sighed. “I’m trying to say that this has been a good day for me. too, becaus e you’r e here . . . for me, too, not just for her.”
“Gabriel Kendrick, I do believe that’s the most you’ve ever said to me, or anyone.”
He looked sheepish. “Wait till you hear one of my sermons.”
She grinned.
“Stay, Lace. For as long as you want.”
“There’ll be talk.”
“To the devil with the gossipmongers. That’s the devil’s talk. Worthless.”
“But painful.” She spoke true with no idea it would begin so soon.
It rained on the day of the first puppet show, so Gabe arranged to bring Ivy’s gypsy wagon and puppet stage into the carriage house. Like other Ashcroft Estate buildings, the carriage house sat nearer to Rectory Cottage, away from the castle her family once owned. Gabe’s church, farm, and cottage, though they belonged to the Ashcroft Estate as well, were also situated on this distant corner of estate property.
More than the local children attended the puppet show. Prout the Malevolent—Gabriel’s “patron”—led the charge of the gossipmongers. Her ample bosom heaved as she watched and tattled, and Lace heard the word s exiled in disgrac e an d Society for Downtrodden
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