The Lost - J. D. Robb [112]
“Himself?”
“Cullen Glin. Your . . .” The old woman stopped, then sputtered, “He’s pacing his room like a caged tiger. I told him he’ll just have to wait until you’ve had a nap. He’ll get to meet you by and by. You rest now. I’ll have Charity wake you when it’s time for dinner.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Murphy.”
“It’s Bridget, dear. Everyone here calls me Bridget.”
“Thank you, Bridget.” Aidan gave up trying to follow the old woman’s words. They were spoken nonstop, and her head was spinning. But this much she’d caught. Bridget, and probably everyone else who worked here, knew why she was here. And had already formed an opinion about her.
A glance at the bed had her wondering how she could bear to disturb that perfect picture, with its mounds of pillows and creamy white linens. She looked toward the cushioned window seat beneath the tall leaded windows, thinking she might curl up there for a quick nap.
When the housekeeper left, Aidan poured a cup of tea and nibbled one of the biscuits nestled beneath a linen napkin. The flaky pastry melted in her mouth.
“Do you live here, Charity?”
The girl barely paused in her work as she continued hanging each item with meticulous care. “Oh no, miss. I live in Glinkilly, just down the road.”
“Sean pointed out your town when we passed through. It’s lovely.”
“It is, yes. We’re all very proud of Glinkilly. Sean and I are old school chums.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“This is my second year. I’m hoping to save enough to attend university in two years.”
“What do you hope to study?”
“Medicine. My two older sisters, Faith and Hope, are both studying to be doctors.”
Faith, Hope and Charity. Aidan couldn’t help grinning. “How grand. That’s a fine goal. Is your father a doctor?”
“He’s a farmer. He said he’s weary of dancing to the whims of nature, and wants better for his children.”
That had Aidan laughing aloud. “A wise man. I see you’ve heeded his advice.”
“So far. Of course, he wants us all to marry wealthy men, too, but as our mum says, money can’t buy love.”
Aidan sipped her tea in silence. There was a time when she would have agreed with Charity’s mother. Now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe, if a person were desperate enough, she would even trade love for the chance to escape the burden of debt.
“Not that I wouldn’t be tempted, if the rich man happened to look like Ross Delaney.”
At Charity’s words, Aidan snapped to attention.
The housemaid touched a hand to her heart. “Now, there’s a man who can make a girl’s heart race with just a look or a smile.”
“I’m sure,” Aidan remarked dryly, “he knows just how to use that kind of charm.”
“Then I wish he’d use some of it on me.” Charity covered her hand with her mouth to stifle the laughter that bubbled. “My older sisters told me they did everything but dance naked in front of him when they worked here, and he never once noticed them.” She wrinkled her nose. “The woman hasn’t been born to suit Ross Delaney. ’Tis said he’ll never marry. All he thinks about is pleasing the old man. I think if Cullen Glin asked him to lie down in front of a moving train, he’d do it.”
“Such loyalty. He must be paid very well for his services.”
“I don’t think he does it for the money. Those who know him, and they’re few indeed, say he genuinely loves the old man. But who really knows? Ross Delaney is a bit of a mystery.” Charity lowered her voice. “Something happened between him and the old man years ago. Though there are a dozen variations of the story, nobody knows for sure. Whatever it was, the old man treats him more like his son than his barrister.”
“Speaking of sons, does Cullen Glin have any children?”
Charity closed the suitcase and stowed it in the closet. “He never married. He lives all alone in this mansion, which my father calls a mausoleum. Of course, if I had his money, and could live in such digs, I’m sure I could survive a little loneliness. Or buy whatever company I craved.”
“Doesn’t Ross Delaney live here with him?”
“He may as well live here, for all the time