The Lass Wore Black Read Online Free

adjusted to the lack of light, he moved to the window.
    “If you open the curtains,” Catriona Cameron said, “I shall scream.”
    That was unexpected.
    “I doubt you have the strength to scream,” he said. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”
    “Get out.”
    He made his way carefully to a large circular table in the middle of the room and placed the tray in front of a chair.
    “Would you like me to light a lamp?” he asked.
    “Get out.”
    “Or a candle, perhaps?”
    “Who are you?”
    “I’m the new footman,” he said, wondering if she’d believe him.
    “I’ll have you dismissed.”
    “I’ve just begun this position.”
    “You’ve just ended it,” she said. “Get out.”
    “Are the other servants afraid of you?”
    She didn’t answer. Nor did she move. No doubt she was glaring at him from her position in the corner.
    “I was hired for my tenacity,” he said, a true statement, if she only knew it.
    “Get out.”
    “You should find another command. That one is growing old. You need to eat.”
    “Get out.”
    “Not yet,” he said. “After you’ve eaten, I’ll take my leave. Your dinner is cold, but perhaps something is still edible.”
    “I’m not hungry.”
    “I find I don’t care,” he said. “You still need to eat something.”
    “Is that why you’ve been hired? To be obnoxious and irritating? If so, you’ve done your duty,” she said. “You can leave. Tell my aunt you did everything within your power to get me to eat. Including violating my wishes. If nothing else, perhaps she’ll give you a bonus.”
    “Are you angry at her?”
    “No.”
    “You’re not punishing her by refusing to eat?”
    “Why should I answer a footman?”
    “Because I’m curious,” he said. “Because I genuinely want to know why you intend to starve yourself.”
    “Whatever I do,” she said, “it’s none of your concern. Now leave.”
    “One bite,” he said. “One bite and I’ll leave.”
    “I’m close enough to the bellpull,” she said. “I’ll summon my aunt.”
    “She’s right outside the door. Shall I call her?”
    “I doubt if Aunt Dina would allow you to break down my door.”
    “Shall we ask her?”
    She remained silent.
    “No doubt it’s hunger that’s making you so quarrelsome,” he said.
    He removed the napkin from the tray, placing it beside the plate, and picked up a pastie.
    “One bite and I’ll leave.”
    “What I eat or don’t eat is none of your concern.”
    “I’m new here,” he said. “I’ve been put in charge of your eating. It seems to be my only task. You wouldn’t want me to fail at it, would you?”
    A pause stretched between them. Just when he thought she wasn’t going to answer, she said, “I don’t care if you lose your position or not.”
    What was he doing here? Why was he catering to a woman’s moods? In his practice, he saw many hysterical females, a variety of wealthy women sent to him by his mother. Women who were too intent on the slightest ailment. Was the irritation on her finger a cancer? Was her spring cough a sign of consumption?
    Each of these irritating patients was surrounded by luxury, servants, and wealth. If they’d had to endure only a few of the conditions he found in Old Town, they’d spend every day on their knees in thanks to God for their blessings.
    Catriona Cameron had turned into one of those.
    Besides, what recourse did he have against a woman’s stubbornness? Most of his patients agreed to listen to his advice. They didn’t require that he carry trays and pretend to be a servant.
    He turned and was at the door before realizing he still had the pastie in his hand. He turned back and retraced his steps, continuing on to the corner where she sat. She was draped in a widow’s veil, or perhaps more than one. How did she see?
    He held out the pastie.
    “One bite,” he coaxed. “Only one.”
    “If I do, will you leave and never return?”
    “I’ll leave,” he said. Beyond that, he wouldn’t