Loving Helen Read Online Free Page B

remembered her being shy during their few, previous interactions, but never so quiet as she was now. Their meal continued in uncomfortable silence. He asked himself why it was he’d felt the need to invite her to join him.
    Because Grace continuously asks of news about her family. Samuel could not yet tell Grace of her siblings’ presence here. Her situation with Nicholas was still tenuous at best, and Samuel had promised himself that he would allow their relationship to develop without providing Grace a way out — yet.
    But he’d thought he could at least look after her sister for her and perhaps learn something that would ease Grace’s mind about the girl’s welfare. So far, all he had discovered this morning was that Miss Thatcher did not care for conversation. Or she did not care for him. Or possibly both.
    “I hate porridge. I won’t eat it. I won’t! I won’t!” Beth came screaming into the room right on schedule.
    Samuel sent a silent plea heavenward as she launched herself at him, not quite clearing the corner of the table and sending the platter of eggs tumbling to the floor.
    Miss Thatcher gasped. Beth clapped her hands over her mouth, then buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed, just as her distraught nanny appeared in the doorway, out of breath and looking rather disheveled with her cap tilted to one side.
    “Can we not have one morning of peace around here?” Samuel asked, uncertain whether he felt more exasperated with his daughter or her nanny.
    “I’m so sorry, sir,” the latter said between gulps of air. “She got away again, and once more, she’s refused to eat her breakfast.” She thrust a filled bowl forward, evidence of her charge’s disobedience.
    “It’s mush again, Papa. Why must I eat it?” Beth placed her little hands on his cheeks and looked at him directly, her large, blue eyes imploring him to understand. Samuel felt himself wavering. How could he deny her anything when he had already denied her a mother? Yet something must be done. Her behavior was becoming entirely out of control.
    “Beth, look at this mess you’ve made.” He spoke in the sternest voice he could muster, which sounded rather soft to his own ears.
    Her face crumpled. “I’m sorry, sir.” She climbed down from his lap and began gathering the eggs from the floor.
    He was at once suspicious of her contrite behavior. Generally Beth was only apologetic or agreeable when she wanted something.
    “That will be all, Mary,” Samuel said wearily. “I’ll return her to the nursery shortly. Thank you.”
    Mary gave a curt nod and stepped forward to place the bowl of mush on the table, then turned on her heel and exited the room. Samuel leaned back in his chair and sighed, only then remembering his guest.
    Miss Thatcher was smiling at him — the first smile he’d seen from her all morning. He frowned, displeased at being the object of her amusement. He opened his mouth to excuse himself and put an end to their awkward breakfast, when she surprised him again by speaking without prompting.
    “May I?” She stood and reached for Beth’s bowl of porridge before he could answer. She pulled it toward herself and poked the spoon around in it a moment “Mmm. The very best kind.”
    She wishes to eat Beth’s mush?
    “You may have it if you’d like,” Samuel said, taken aback by such atrocious manners. Grace had said her sister was extremely shy, but she’d failed to mention anything about her being odd. Perhaps she had something amiss in her mind.
    Unfortunate.
    Like her sister, she was very pretty and might have made a good match.
    Miss Thatcher scooted her chair back slightly, leaned forward, and ducked her head under the table. “Your name is Beth, isn’t it?”
    Samuel glanced down to see Beth drop the handful of squished eggs she had been collecting. She looked curiously at their guest and nodded.
    “Would you like to play a game?” Miss Thatcher’s voice came muffled from beneath the table.
    Beth