“Your Grace! Your Grace!” Mrs. Short stopped him in the hall. She was pulling the young made Justine by her elbow.
He sighed with irritation. “What is it Mrs. Short?” He was already more than aggravated, first from the correspondence from his father, but more so from Willow's reaction, and her subsequent absence from the table at noon.
“You’ll not listen to me, I know, but for the sake of the child, you better listen to this girl. Show him, Justine. Show him what you showed me.” Mrs. Short lifted her chin triumphantly.
Justine was visibly trembling. “I... I’m not sure...”
Liam couldn’t tell if she was afraid of Mrs. Short, or afraid of him. “What is it that you have to show me,” he asked in a gentler voice this time. The girl stretched out her hand, and offered him a white
