‘Blast and bugger your eyes, Charlie Fletcher,’ she shrieked. ‘Where the bloody ‘ell ‘ave you been these two years, you good fer nothin’ bastard.’
∞∞∞
‘Does that mean Miss Shackleford is going to be my new mother?’
Christian stared down at his daughter, searching for any signs of distress at his words. Fortunately, Mercy’s expression was one of curiosity. ‘She will be your stepmother, sweet pea,’ he answered carefully. ‘You already have a mother, even though she’s in Heaven now.’
‘But she’ll live here, with us?’ the small girl prodded. Christian swallowed, but before he could find a suitably delicate answer, she added, ‘Can I have a new dress for the wedding?’ Unable to stop himself, the Earl grinned down at her. ‘Will Freddy come and live with us too?’ she continued, slipping her hand from his and skipping around him.
They were taking their customary early morning stroll in Hyde Park. The day was cold but dry, and thanks to the hour, there were few people around to disturb them. It was the most treasured part of Christian’s day. ‘I think Freddy belongs to Miss Shackleford’s father,’ he explained gently. ‘But I’m certain you’ll see him this evening as we’ve been invited for dinner with Miss Shackleford’s family.’
‘Will there be a lot of people,’ Mercy asked after a moment.
He wondered if he’d been wise in accepting the Duchess’s invitation for dinner quite so soon. If the whole family came… But no, surely her grace would not think it appropriate. But considering the father… He thought back to their first meeting, and for the first time, he truly wondered what the devil he’d let himself in for. He glanced down at Mercy who was now busy digging at the snow with a stick.
‘Miss Shackleford is very good at climbing trees, Papa. Do you think when she lives with us, she’ll climb the one in the back garden too?’
∞∞∞
Felicity Beaumont put the finishing touches to her hair and sighed, staring at herself in the mirror. She looked tired… and old.
Far too old for a ridiculous crush on a man who was never likely to look at her as anything other than a family friend.
Tutting at herself, she turned away from the glass and bent down to pick up her shawl. It was early still, and the maid had not yet been in to stoke up the fire. Felicity knew she’d been foolish to rise at such an ungodly hour. Breakfast would not be served until ten. But lately she’d been having trouble sleeping. Her back ached something fierce when she stayed in one position for too long. Mayhap if she went down to the kitchen, she could request a hot chocolate be brought to her in the small drawing room, and perhaps a crumpet.
Decision made, she wrapped the shawl around her shoulders and made her way below stairs.
In contrast to the rest of the house, the kitchen was already bustling. Mrs Pidgeon immediately ordered the scullery maid to build up the fire in the drawing room and bade Felicity warm herself next to the huge fireplace while she waited. Pressing a large dish of hot chocolate into the matron’s hands, the cook commented that she’d never seen her kitchen so busy with visitors this time in the morning. When questioned, she admitted that had Miss Beaumont come down not ten minutes earlier, she would have bumped into the Reverend, Percy and Miss Chastity.
Frowning, Felicity wrapped her cold hands around the dish. ‘Where are they now?’ she murmured, an unpleasant feeling curling in the pit of her stomach.
‘Well, they took that poor woman to see her brother,’ Mrs. Pidgeon answered giving a large pan of porridge a stir. ‘I did wonder why it needed four of ‘em, but it’s not my place to question the ways o’ me betters.’
Felicity stared at the cook in bewilderment. ‘I wasn’t aware there had been another visitor to the house,’ she said carefully at length.
‘Last night, late it was,’ Mrs. Pidgeon confided, always happy to share a bit of gossip. ‘Jimmy Fowler arrived from Blackmore with this woman in tow.’ She shook her head. ‘I ain’t seen the lad in an age. My he’s goin’ to break a few ‘earts that one.’ She placed the lid back on the porridge and wiped her hands on her apron. ‘Jimmy reckoned this female lives over in Blackmore too. Up ‘ere to visit wi’ ‘er brother.’ She gave a sniff before adding, ‘Bit above ‘erself if you ask me. I mean the cheek of ‘er askin’ to share ‘is grace’s coach.’ She shook her head. ‘And then she gets a bloody escort to Whitechapel. Be gettin’ ideas above ‘er station afore long.’
More baffled than ever, Felicity nevertheless thought it best to bring the conversation to a close. The last thing she wanted was to be accused of gossiping with the Duke’s staff. Thanking the rotund cook, she finished her dish of hot chocolate and made her way back towards the drawing room where Mrs. Pidgeon had promised to send her a hot buttered crumpet as soon as they came out of the oven.
Mulling over the cook’s words, Felicity didn’t notice there was someone standing at the top of the stairs until she spied a pair of feet above her. With a small gasp, her eyes flew upwards. It was Malcolm. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Really she was too damn old to react so.
‘Miss Beaumont,’ he greeted her in his gruff Scottish burr. ‘I ken yer looking well. The Duchess said you’d nae be arriving until the end of the month.’
Felicity’s face reddened at the thought that the valet might have asked when she was coming. Taking the last step onto the landing as he inclined his head, she murmured, ‘I had an inkling I might be needed a little earlier.’ She gave a slight chuckle before adding ruefully, ‘It seems I was right.’
‘Ye certainly were, Miss Beaumont, though some might say it’s nothing out of the ordinary.’ Felicity laughed as Malcolm grinned down at her, for a second in complete accord as only outsiders who mixed regularly with the Shacklefords would understand.
‘How long are ye planning te stay?’ the Scot added as Felicity took a step towards the drawing room. She turned back, face flaming anew at the thought he might be interested. ‘I shall stay as long as I’m needed,’ she answered with a smile.
‘Aye, well, if that’s the case, you’d do well to move in.’ Heart thudding, Felicity stared up at the valet. Was she imagining the intent look in his eyes? She searched for something witty to say, but nothing came to mind.
‘I’d best be off.’ Malcolm broke the odd connection first, giving another slight bow before starting down the stairs. Felicity fought the urge to stamp her foot. When was the last time she’d had no witty comeback? Truly she was behaving like a chit just out of the schoolroom.
Sighing, she picked up her skirts, intending to continue on to the drawing room, just as her thoughts went back to her conversation in the kitchen. Should she tell the Scot? Would she simply be spreading gossip? She was still hovering indecisively at the top of the stairs when she heard the front door open and close. Her chance had gone.
Chapter Sixteen
Witherspoon lifted his head at the sound of the sudden commotion outside. Frowning, he climbed to his feet, then suddenly stilled as he recognised a female voice he hadn’t heard in years.What the bloody hell was Lizzy doing here? Damn it.
