Chapters (71)
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Part Two
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Part Three
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Part Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Part Five
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Books by Barbara Taylor Bradford
- About the Author
- Newsletter Sign-up
As Gladys disappeared, Finn looked at Moira, and asked with a frown, “Why does she call ye ‘my lady’?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Finn,” Moira muttered. “Perhaps she just means ‘lady.’”
“Some waitresses call women madam,” Finn pointed out. “And you’re a miss,, aren’t you?”
Laughter trickled through Moira, and she couldn’t help it. He was a smart one, Finn. When she managed, finally, to calm herself, she said, “She wants to be polite, that’s all. Gladys is that kind of person. She wants to please her customers.”
He nodded. “Well, how old are ye anyway?”
“A man must never ask a woman her age, Finn.”
“Oh, why not?” He sounded genuinely puzzled.
“Because it’s a very personal question, and just a bit rude, bad mannered.”
“I bet you’re seventeen or eighteen,” Finn shot back, squinting at her, obviously taking her measure, his eyes roaming over her.
Since she had nothing to hide about her age, Moira answered in an amused tone, “A good guess on your part, Finn. I was eighteen in May, early in May, in fact.”
Gladys returned with the tea and menus, and reminded them about the foodstuffs and dishes available, written on the blackboard in chalk, on the far wall.
“Take your time,” the waitress said as she glided away.
Moira picked up the menu and perused it for a while, not really feeling hungry. She wanted something light and easy to digest. She glanced over the menu when Finn said, “Do ye knows what ye want?”
“I think I’ll have some fish, probably cod or sole, and a few vegetables. That’s it, yes, that’s enough. I have a small appetite.”
“I’d like fish too, Moira. Shall we have something first?”
“I’ll have a light soup.” She eyed the menu. “Chicken broth.”
“I see shrimps here; I’ll have that.”
Finn put down his menu and said, with a grin, “Mr. Kennedy would say it’s a bit of a fishy tea I’m having.”
Moira smiled. He was a nice boy. She mustn’t let him irritate her the way he did.
Thirty-Two
“So I suppose you’ve recovered from your adventures by now, haven’t you, Blackie?” His uncle suddenly grinned. “What a weekend of changing emotions for you, eh? Disappointment at noon, plus a dash of annoyance, I’ve no doubt. A joyous reunion with a loving cousin and walking the gardens of Bolton Manor with Lord Lassiter.”
Blackie couldn’t help chuckling. “You’ve hit the nail on the head, Uncle Pat. I can’t believe she’s in Yorkshire. It was so special to talk to her, to see her once more. Anyway, the best part was having a nice tea in the kitchen with Siobhan, before she went upstairs to do Lady Lassiter’s hair.”