A Man Most Worthy. Ruth Axtell Morren

      She made a face. “Oh, that. Well, yes, naturally.”

      “Naturally.” He mimicked the word. “I suppose he has been riding since he was five.”

      She giggled. “Oh, probably since he was four.”

      His dark eyes lit with humor. “His parents probably sat him atop a horse before he could walk.”

      “Oh, no, before he began to crawl!”

      They both ended up laughing.

      “Alice, what are you doing here?” Her father stood in the doorway to the library.

      She jumped up from her chair. “I am acting as—” she gave a little bow “—Mr. Tennent’s secretary.”

      Her father pursed his lips, his eyes going from her to Mr. Tennent and back again, making her feel as if she’d done something wrong. “That is not amusing.”

      “Of course it isn’t. Mr. Tennent is injured, and I feel partially responsible. As such, it is only right that I assist him while his injury heals.”

      “Mr. Shepard—” Mr. Tennent stood rigid, and her heart went out to him, having to work for her father.

      Her father advanced into the small room, cutting him off. “So, you are unable to write?”

      “I—” He cleared his throat and began again. “In a few days, perhaps—”

      Did Father inspire such fear in all his employees? “Dr. Baird gave clear instructions that Mr. Tennent is to do nothing to put undue pressure on his collarbone for a few weeks. He mustn’t bend his arm in a way that will aggravate the bone.”

      Her father had turned his attention back to her halfway through her speech. “In that case, I shall have to summon Mr. Simpson.”

      She gave a disbelieving laugh at the mention of Father’s old secretary. “Mr. Simpson is getting forgetful, you said so yourself. We are making splendid progress.” She took up the papers she’d completed and handed them to him.

      He took them without a word and examined them.

      Mr. Tennent cleared his throat. “Mr. Shepard, I assure you, in a few days, I’m sure I can manage on my own.”

      Her father handed the papers back to his secretary. “Very well. In the meantime I have to return to London. I shall determine things upon my return.” He turned to her. “I don’t want you making a nuisance of yourself here.”

      “I shan’t be a nuisance.”

      “Nevertheless, I prefer you not spend your time here, Alice.”

      She pressed her lips together, knowing it was useless to argue with her father and knowing just as certainly that this was one command she was going to disobey.