Read The Mistress of Tall Acre for Free Online

Powder, some said, was decidedly British and going out of fashion.
    When she reached the foyer, Glynnis was nowhere in sight. Unembarrassed by the lack of servants, Sophie opened the wide front door herself as Lily Cate got down from the Ogilvy coach and her father helped her leap over a muddy puddle.
    Out of uniform today, Seamus Ogilvy was dressed like a laird, a country gentleman. The master of Tall Acre. The damp had curled the ends of his hair, adding a fine sheen to his rich broadcloth coat. His eyes sought hers as he cleared the bottom step—a thoughtful, soul-searching blue that nearly sent her spinning. Lily Cate clutched her doll, smiling shyly in expectation.
    “Welcome to Three Chimneys,” Sophie said as they swept inside.
    Rain-speckled, Lily Cate looked up at her father, who seemed to be waiting for her to do something. Her freckled face was blank. Leaning down, he whispered in her ear and she brightened.
    Drawing out her skirts with one hand, she curtsied and Sophie did the same. “I wasn’t sure you’d come, but I’m very glad you did.”
    “If I let the weather deter me, Miss Menzies, the war would never have been won.” There was wry amusement in Seamus’s gaze and something akin to relief. “When would you like for me to collect her?”
    Never. She smiled at Lily Cate. “Three Chimneys parties can go on for . . .” Forever. “Nightfall, perhaps.”
    “You’re a gracious hostess.”
    She took a breath. “Before you go, sir, I wanted to ask about the guard you’ve posted.”
    His gaze was unwavering. “Is there some problem?”
    “I was just wondering . . . is it truly necessary, General?”
    “Necessary? Given the expense of crown glass, I’d say it was essential. The arrangement won’t go on forever. Just till all hostilities cease.”
    Would they ever? Clasping Lily Cate’s hand, she began moving toward the morning room tucked behind the stairs, a smaller, cozier spot than the front parlor where she’d first met with him. Lily Cate didn’t look back or bid him goodbye, leaving Sophie to smile self-consciously in farewell, glad when he turned and retraced his way down the steps.
    They stood on the threshold of the morning room, surveying the toys rescued from the attic. Sophie said, “I’m glad you’ve brought your doll.”
    “Her name’s Sophie—and she’s your doll, remember.”
    “Not anymore. She’s been a bit downcast hidden away in the attic for so long. She needs a real playmate like you.”
    Lily Cate hugged the doll close. “I take her everywhere with me and even bring her to table. The general tells me not to, so I hide her on my lap.”
    Sophie smiled, sure he was well aware of the simple deception. “She might be hungry then, though I’m not sure what dolls like to eat.”
    “I do. Rose petals.” Lily Cate reached out and plucked a spent blossom off the linen cloth.
    For a moment Sophie enjoyed the pleasure filling Lily Cate’s usually solemn face as she took in sparkling if chipped china and a plate of chestnut flour biscuits with molasses. A far cry from scones and clotted cream and jam. A pewter bowl of lush pink roses graced the table, the last of the season.
    When they sat down, Sophie folded her hands. “Shall we give thanks for a lovely tea?”
    Lily Cate blinked. “You give thanks—pray?”
    “Always.”
    She tilted her head. “Why doesn’t the general pray?”
    “Perhaps he does so in secret.”
    “Uncle Richard and Aunt Charlotte pray.” She yawned, exposing tiny kitten teeth. “Long prayers that make me sleepy.”
    Sophie would have smiled but for the general’s prayerlessness. As it was, she stumbled on the other names. Anne’s Williamsburg relations? Lily Cate’s mother had had a sister, she recalled, trying to piece together what little she knew. What had Lily Cate said in the woods that day?
    The general came to collect me in the night, and there was only room for me atop his horse. Everything got left behind.
    With her