Nora’s hands went to her hips and she scowled at the handsome nineteen-year-old groom. Like her, Michael’s father had worked at Wentworth Hall before him and he had grown up playing in the estate’s immaculate many-stalled stable. While Nora had been orphaned at a young age, Michael still had his father, who tended Wentworth Hall’s gardens. Knowing she was alone, Michael took special care of Nora. He was practically an older brother to her. Including the playful teasing.

“Oh, right, Michael, make fun now,” she came back at him, “but when you want to know what’s really going on around here, who do you go to? Me! That’s who.”

“And what would I want to know about this place?” he asked, pouring himself a glass of water from the cook’s sink.

Nora tossed her head back and laughed. “Lots! You’re more interested in the comings and goings than any of us maids.”

“Hardly,” Michael replied.

Nora guffawed. How many times had she reported to him on the whereabouts of one Lady Margaret Darlington? In that, he was always keenly interested.

Michael gave Nora a pointed look, and his dark brows knit as his green eyes thundered a warning for her not to say any more.

Nora shrugged her shoulders. Never let it be said that she didn’t know the difference between sharing information and spreading rumors. There was plenty of scandal in Wentworth Hall that didn’t get remarked upon. She had no intention of embarrassing Michael in front of everyone, but she couldn’t resist the tease. “Well, I’m just saying is that each one of you has benefited one time or another from my information. So don’t be so high and mighty about it,” she scolded, wagging her finger at him.

Michael dropped comically to one knee in front of Nora and took her hand in a mock display of remorse. “I do humbly apologize, Nora.”

“Ahh, get away from me,” Nora rebuked him with a laugh. “You reek of horses. If I go upstairs smelling like that I’ll hear about it from her ladyship and the girls.”