strangest sensation it was him…
The Gypsy.
And indeed, she was right. Directly behind her was Dominic St. Bride. He was mounted atop a massive stallion, his mane and coat like blackestmidnight. On horseback, he seemed as tall as the heavens…
Olivia opened her mouth to greet him. She had no desire to appear either discourteous or frightened before the children.
Before she could say a word, Jonny Craven’s voice rang out. “I know who you are. You’re the Gypsy, the Gypsy earl.”
Olivia could have gladly disappeared. Jonny knew not when to mind his tongue—never had she been so certain of it! She longed to clamp her hand over the boy’s mouth lest he choose to deliver another disparaging remark.
Yet curiously, it appeared Dominic St. Bride was not angry. Olivia was stunned, for he merely looked amused.
“Is it true?” someone else called out. “Are you the Gypsy?”
“I am.”
To Olivia’s surprise—but mostly her dismay—he showed no signs of leaving. Instead he dismounted, holding the reins easily between gloved hands.
“He doesn’t dress like a Gypsy.” This observation came from Lucinda, who peered out from behind her sister. The child flushed when she realized she’d been overheard by the others.
“That’s because he’s only half-Gypsy.” Jane frowned at her sister. “His father was the old earl who had no sons because of his mother’s curse. So he took him from his Gypsy camp to learn to be his heir—and a gentleman.”
Olivia found herself holding her breath. Of course she’d heard the rumor many a time, yet nowshe wondered if he would deny it. Or if he would confirm it as truth?
“You’re right. My…father—” There was the faintest hesitation, as if the word was distasteful to him. “—did take me from the Gypsies.” His tone grew dry. “I dress as I do because I hardly think London would approve of the Earl of Ravenwood dressing in his Gypsy clothes.”
“So which are you? A Gypsy? Or an earl?”
“He’s both—a Gypsy and an earl!” one of the children proclaimed.
“How old were you when your father snatched you away?” Thomas leaped to his feet.
Dominic’s gaze rested upon him. “I was twelve.”
“Twelve. That’s how old I am,” Thomas boasted.
“You are not, Thomas Shelton,” Jane argued with him. “You won’t be twelve until after harvest.”
Thomas stuck out his tongue at Jane. Olivia cast a warning glance toward the pair.
“Why do the Gypsies wander from place to place?” the boy asked, dropping the issue of his age.
“They are beholden to no one this way. They are free, at one with the world and with nature, free to wander where they wish. And there is a saying…‘God knows what tomorrow will bring.’ Thus they are free of concern over the future and do as they please, whenever they please.”
“My papa says they wander because no one wants them near.” Thomas tipped his head to the side and regarded Dominic.
There was the slightest darkening of his features…yet it was gone so quickly Olivia wondered if she merely imagined it.
“That’s what many people think, but they are mistaken,” he said at last. “They wander because it is their way, as it has been their way for centuries.”
“They don’t have houses.” Lucinda had crept out and now sat next to Jane. “They live in tents and carts.”
“They are called caravans,” he corrected. “ Vardo by the Gypsies. For those not wealthy enough to own a vardo , the sky is the roof over their heads.”
“But what do they do when it rains?” someone asked.
One corner of his mouth went up. “They get wet,” he said promptly.
The children erupted into laughter. He had gone down on one knee to speak. Only then did Olivia glimpse a faint spark of laughter in those incredibly blue eyes.
“They talk strangely,” one boy chimed in.
“That’s because they often speak to each other in the language of the Gypsies. It’s called Romany.”
“Heathens, my da calls
The Gypsy.
And indeed, she was right. Directly behind her was Dominic St. Bride. He was mounted atop a massive stallion, his mane and coat like blackestmidnight. On horseback, he seemed as tall as the heavens…
Olivia opened her mouth to greet him. She had no desire to appear either discourteous or frightened before the children.
Before she could say a word, Jonny Craven’s voice rang out. “I know who you are. You’re the Gypsy, the Gypsy earl.”
Olivia could have gladly disappeared. Jonny knew not when to mind his tongue—never had she been so certain of it! She longed to clamp her hand over the boy’s mouth lest he choose to deliver another disparaging remark.
Yet curiously, it appeared Dominic St. Bride was not angry. Olivia was stunned, for he merely looked amused.
“Is it true?” someone else called out. “Are you the Gypsy?”
“I am.”
To Olivia’s surprise—but mostly her dismay—he showed no signs of leaving. Instead he dismounted, holding the reins easily between gloved hands.
“He doesn’t dress like a Gypsy.” This observation came from Lucinda, who peered out from behind her sister. The child flushed when she realized she’d been overheard by the others.
“That’s because he’s only half-Gypsy.” Jane frowned at her sister. “His father was the old earl who had no sons because of his mother’s curse. So he took him from his Gypsy camp to learn to be his heir—and a gentleman.”
Olivia found herself holding her breath. Of course she’d heard the rumor many a time, yet nowshe wondered if he would deny it. Or if he would confirm it as truth?
“You’re right. My…father—” There was the faintest hesitation, as if the word was distasteful to him. “—did take me from the Gypsies.” His tone grew dry. “I dress as I do because I hardly think London would approve of the Earl of Ravenwood dressing in his Gypsy clothes.”
“So which are you? A Gypsy? Or an earl?”
“He’s both—a Gypsy and an earl!” one of the children proclaimed.
“How old were you when your father snatched you away?” Thomas leaped to his feet.
Dominic’s gaze rested upon him. “I was twelve.”
“Twelve. That’s how old I am,” Thomas boasted.
“You are not, Thomas Shelton,” Jane argued with him. “You won’t be twelve until after harvest.”
Thomas stuck out his tongue at Jane. Olivia cast a warning glance toward the pair.
“Why do the Gypsies wander from place to place?” the boy asked, dropping the issue of his age.
“They are beholden to no one this way. They are free, at one with the world and with nature, free to wander where they wish. And there is a saying…‘God knows what tomorrow will bring.’ Thus they are free of concern over the future and do as they please, whenever they please.”
“My papa says they wander because no one wants them near.” Thomas tipped his head to the side and regarded Dominic.
There was the slightest darkening of his features…yet it was gone so quickly Olivia wondered if she merely imagined it.
“That’s what many people think, but they are mistaken,” he said at last. “They wander because it is their way, as it has been their way for centuries.”
“They don’t have houses.” Lucinda had crept out and now sat next to Jane. “They live in tents and carts.”
“They are called caravans,” he corrected. “ Vardo by the Gypsies. For those not wealthy enough to own a vardo , the sky is the roof over their heads.”
“But what do they do when it rains?” someone asked.
One corner of his mouth went up. “They get wet,” he said promptly.
The children erupted into laughter. He had gone down on one knee to speak. Only then did Olivia glimpse a faint spark of laughter in those incredibly blue eyes.
“They talk strangely,” one boy chimed in.
“That’s because they often speak to each other in the language of the Gypsies. It’s called Romany.”
“Heathens, my da calls
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