The Recluse and the Runaway
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Sir Rupert has taken in strays from time to time, but never two the same night: first a tiny dog, and then a bedraggled young woman found shivering by the roadside in the rain. He hires her on the spot to help in the kitchen, for his cook is down with the ague, and it’s only two days till Christmas.
Nell can’t believe her luck, but warm and welcoming as Sir Rupert and his household are, she can only stay till Christmas, for she will be pursued, caught, and hanged unless she can reach the safe haven of her father’s friend. Nell adores Sir Rupert, but she cannot tell him the truth, for no one will believe her. Nor can she tell a lie. She will prepare the Christmas feast—she’d promised to—but after that, she will flee once again. With time running out, can Rupert convince her that she is safe with him, no matter what? This novella was originally published in the anthology, Snowflakes and Scandals. Universal Buy Link |
Here's an excerpt from The Recluse and the Runaway
Millie sidled into the study, waving a dust cloth as cover for her true intentions. After sweeping the rag leisurely across a few bookshelves, she got directly to business.
“A lady, ain’t she? Miss Nell, that is.”
Evidently, Millie thought so—else why refer to her as ‘Miss’ instead of just plain Nell? “She may well be,” Rupert said.
“She talks like a lady.” Millie brandished the rag to emphasize her point.
“So she does.”
“She’s ever so pretty, too.”
This was true—but Rupert had never been greatly moved by prettiness. No, she was more than that; she shone with life. An angel from heaven, a sweet and tender being, a darling beyond compare.
And he was a muddled fool. “Indeed.”
“Prettier than other ladies I can think of,” Millie said. The female staff assumed that his repairs to the house meant he would soon take a wife, and from time to time they brought to his attention, without the least subtlety, some young lady or another who dwelt or visited nearby.
“Me and Peg,” she said, “we don’t want her to go.”
Peg’s voice floated from the passageway. “More than that, sir. We wants her to bide here forever.”
Last night’s stray dog, which in the light of day proved to be a fluffy little creature with big feathery ears and a plume of a tail, trotted into the room and gazed soulfully at him.
Bloody hell. Millie might have reason to dust his study—she was a maid of all work—but Peg belonged in the kitchen except in emergencies. Drat the wenches! Even the dog, who was supposed to be in the stables, made its opinion clear.
“Surely that’s up to her,” Rupert said. “And what about Cook? Nell, quite rightly, doesn’t wish to take her place.”
“Mayhap she could take another position here, sir,” Millie said with a sly little smile. “Something more proper for a lady.”
“And maybe she has someplace else to go,” he retorted. “And so do you—back to work.”
“She’s going to London,” they said in unison, as if it was the devil’s own playground, the Sodom and Gomorrah of England.
Which, unfortunately, it was. He’d lived there for years, long enough to know. Alarmed, he almost stood—then forced himself to subside.
“To her gran,” Millie admitted reluctantly.
That seemed acceptable, but she was his. He couldn’t just let her go.
“Very well,” he said, “I shall speak to Nell—when I am ready. In other words, not this instant, so don’t send her here. Get on with it, girls, and leave me be.”
The girls left, but the dog didn’t. It just sat there, watching him reproachfully.
“What do you know about it?” Rupert grumbled. “You’re just a silly dog. I can’t run over and kneel before her, begging for her hand. I have to court her. I must make a plan.”
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Millie sidled into the study, waving a dust cloth as cover for her true intentions. After sweeping the rag leisurely across a few bookshelves, she got directly to business.
“A lady, ain’t she? Miss Nell, that is.”
Evidently, Millie thought so—else why refer to her as ‘Miss’ instead of just plain Nell? “She may well be,” Rupert said.
“She talks like a lady.” Millie brandished the rag to emphasize her point.
“So she does.”
“She’s ever so pretty, too.”
This was true—but Rupert had never been greatly moved by prettiness. No, she was more than that; she shone with life. An angel from heaven, a sweet and tender being, a darling beyond compare.
And he was a muddled fool. “Indeed.”
“Prettier than other ladies I can think of,” Millie said. The female staff assumed that his repairs to the house meant he would soon take a wife, and from time to time they brought to his attention, without the least subtlety, some young lady or another who dwelt or visited nearby.
“Me and Peg,” she said, “we don’t want her to go.”
Peg’s voice floated from the passageway. “More than that, sir. We wants her to bide here forever.”
Last night’s stray dog, which in the light of day proved to be a fluffy little creature with big feathery ears and a plume of a tail, trotted into the room and gazed soulfully at him.
Bloody hell. Millie might have reason to dust his study—she was a maid of all work—but Peg belonged in the kitchen except in emergencies. Drat the wenches! Even the dog, who was supposed to be in the stables, made its opinion clear.
“Surely that’s up to her,” Rupert said. “And what about Cook? Nell, quite rightly, doesn’t wish to take her place.”
“Mayhap she could take another position here, sir,” Millie said with a sly little smile. “Something more proper for a lady.”
“And maybe she has someplace else to go,” he retorted. “And so do you—back to work.”
“She’s going to London,” they said in unison, as if it was the devil’s own playground, the Sodom and Gomorrah of England.
Which, unfortunately, it was. He’d lived there for years, long enough to know. Alarmed, he almost stood—then forced himself to subside.
“To her gran,” Millie admitted reluctantly.
That seemed acceptable, but she was his. He couldn’t just let her go.
“Very well,” he said, “I shall speak to Nell—when I am ready. In other words, not this instant, so don’t send her here. Get on with it, girls, and leave me be.”
The girls left, but the dog didn’t. It just sat there, watching him reproachfully.
“What do you know about it?” Rupert grumbled. “You’re just a silly dog. I can’t run over and kneel before her, begging for her hand. I have to court her. I must make a plan.”
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