Page 49 of Hearts of Locke Hill

She swallowed that bitterly. “So you are the rabbit,” she muttered. Ignoring his bemusement, she turned to the railing again. “Is Ruby in danger?” she asked.

“Not at the moment. She will need her friends, though. I fear—” He stopped himself.

“What?” What did Cyril Burke fear? She couldn’t fathom a guess.

“She’s told you our father is ill?”

“Yes. I’m very sorry to hear it.”

“It is quite serious.”

That drew her full attention. The elder Mr. Burke was a strong, youthful man who’d shown her nothing but kindness and guidance in their interactions. “My fondest recollection of him is learning to play chess.”

He drew his head back. “You remember that? What were you, six?”

“Well.” She gripped the railing with both hands. “He was proud of me. I’ve seldom felt that from …”

“Your own father?”

She glanced at him, then looked toward the view beyond. “From men. But you were saying?”

She felt his study of her, then he continued. “He and my mother left today for a new treatment in London. It will be hard on Ruby, I think.” He looked down. “Great-Aunt Margaret is coming.”

“Ah. Well. That always brings a set of challenges, doesn’t it?”

He gave the barest of grins. “She insists on coming to be of help.”

Violet smiled, knowing how much help Aunt Margaret could be. Odds were, Ruby would be completely occupied with caring for the elderly woman. “Perhaps she’ll serve as a nice distraction.”

“Perhaps.”

“I’ve offered Ruby a job, here at the school. Teaching harp.”

“Yes, she told me.”

She nodded. “I believe she would enjoy it immensely.”

He turned back to the view, his hand running over the back of his neck. “She would,” he admitted.

“Perhaps it will help serve as a distraction from Aunt Margaret.”

“Aunt Margaret, who is to serve as a distraction from our father’s illness?”

“Yes. A distraction from the distraction. So she isn’t quite so …”

His gaze flickered to hers. “Distracted.”

She laughed and rolled her lips closed. She turned to the view again. It wasn’t fair how kind he was being. “Yes, exactly.”

The silence between them thickened, and she moved to break it. “Is it true you’ve inherited Pimms Mill?”

He blinked. “My mother has, yes. I’m in the process of moving in. With its proximity to the school, I thought it convenient. The caretakers seem quite happy to have owners present. Or at least in England. Are you familiar with it? Did you trespass that property as well as a child?”

She glared good-naturedly. “I did not. But Pimms is like a dear old grandmama to this neighborhood, once a center of agricultural industry for its time, where distant neighbors met while their corn was ground, the waterways unfettered and strong enough to move the giant wheels. Now long retired and just hoping for a visit. Hoping to be remembered. It’s a piece of history.”

He studied her. “And here I thought we’d only been handed a wreck of a cottage.”

She dropped her hands from the railing. “You can’t be serious.”