Through Gypsy Eyes by Killarney Sheffield

“Never?”
    “Never
.
”
    The finality in his words made her want to believe him. Still, she experienced the truth for herself many times at a man’s hands. Rejection haunted the months of her coming out until she refused to bare her soul to it anymore and retreated. Her heart was safer here in her home. Now he wanted to bring men into her sanctuary to spurn her. “Are you so eager to be done with the king’s command you would toss me to the wolves?”
    “Is that how you see courtship?” His heavy sigh hung between them for a moment. “I assure you it is the furthest thing from my mind. I seek to see you happy, wed, and looked after for the rest of your life, not at the mercy of thieving servants who profess to love you, yet are stealing everything of value out from under your very nose.”
    The anger in his speech startled her. Did he really care? It was a difficult ideal to believe, for the only man who in truth cared for her was her father. “There has to be another explanation. I can’t believe servants who accept me for who I am and have cared for me all these years would do such a thing.”
    “I have been through your father’s books and made careful examination of the storerooms, estate, and barns. As I said before, there is no livestock to be found and little supplies left.”
    She ignored the impatience in his explanation. “Surely there must be some cause you have neglected to consider. Perhaps you have not found the correct storerooms — ”
    “Why is it so hard for you to believe the servants would steal from you?”
    She stood her ground. “They have always been loyal.”
    “Aye, while your father was alive to keep his eye on them. I found the stable boy fornicating in the straw just the other day. When I told him to return to his duties he had the gall to ask by whose authority I would command him. That kind of disrespect speaks volumes of the servants here.”
    Anger plucked at her emotions. How dare he say such things? Though he did say he never lied. No, she refused to believe such a shocking tale. Still, did she not see the truth for herself? Or rather hear and smell it? Damn her useless eyes! For the first time in many years she found herself helpless, and she did not like the feeling. “If you will excuse me, you have given me a headache.” She rose, moved around the piano bench to the veranda doors and whistled for Jester.
    “Do not think to use such an excuse to get out of the dinner party tonight.”
    At his warning she set her teeth and ground them together. “The thought never entered my head,” she snipped. Hoof beats clattered across the veranda and the pony brushed her skirts. Trailing her fingers along his neck she let the harness slip into her hand and then clicked to the pony to walk on. She half expected the earl to follow, but her and Jester’s footsteps were the only ones to reverberate against the stone.
    A stroll in the garden would settle her thoughts. The path they took was familiar and in effort to give her mind something to toil over rather than the upcoming dinner party, she pulled the harness to the left, steering Jester onto the path to the stables. Despite the fact Jester was an equine, they never frequented the barns. Jester preferred to sleep on the veranda or beside the garden fence where he could hear her call should she need him. True to his protective nature, the pony’s steps slowed to allow her to test each place she put her feet. Again the air cooled to alert her they were entering the barn. Her guide clip-clopped along, the sound echoing in the empty structure.
    “Whoa, Jester,” Delilah commanded.
    The pony stopped.
    She released the harness, struck out for the stall door, and leaned against it. “Where did all the animals go?” she asked, more to herself than Jester. Though she relieved half of the staff of their duties not long after her father’s death, she gave them more than adequate compensation, rewarding the remaining ones with a