Chapter 11
I guide the cart around the back of the main house, pulling up close to the porch so the kitchen servants won’t have far to carry the spoils from Miss Lucille’s shopping trip. As I tie up the reins to keep the horse from straying, Miss Lucille covers my hand with her own. Her touch is soft and warm, gentle, as if she’s afraid I might spook away from her.
I look around quickly to make sure the yard is empty, and no one watches us from the kitchen windows. “Miss Lucille, you really shouldn’t—”
“Lucy,” she corrects with a smile. “You said you’d call me Lucy when we were alone.”
I should point out that we shouldn’t be alone, but for some reason, I can’t seem to form the words.
With a glance behind me at the main house, she leans closer and says, “I’ve really enjoyed our time to
