Her Proper Scoundrel by A. M. Westerling Page B
Authors: A. M. Westerling
solemn gaze. Her heart ached for him at his expression. How could one so young hold such a serious demeanor?
His expression prompted her as to where she was and why. Certainly tomorrow’s impending visit unsettled her. And certainly it all hinged on how well the boy played his part. For now she would turn her attention to the boys, and in particular Philip.
She would wait until she reached the sanctuary of her room to read the letter.
But it burned where she tucked it inside her spencer.
* * *
Disdain curled the lip of Lord Oliver Candel as he watched the Sharrington carriage disappear into the hubbub of Bristol’s streets. How crass of the man to remind him of the gaming debt and certainly not the action of one of the peerage to pick a public walkway in which to do so.
How had a man of Sharrington’s ilk even gained entry into Bristol’s finest gaming establishment? Fumed Candel. Furthermore, how presumptuous of the man to hand over his card as if he, Oliver Candel, would gladly open his doors to the scum.
He slammed his walking step into the ground. Watch your step, Sharrington, or you shall rue the day you sought to challenge me.
* * *
As Christopher rode home to Midland House beside the coachman, the fresh air cleared his jumbled thoughts and allowed him to consider Lady Oakland’s visit tomorrow in a more relaxed frame of mind.
It really shouldn’t be too difficult to convince the woman Philip was his son. Tom, the younger boy could simply be kept elsewhere during the interview.
With a light heart, he jumped off the coach and paused to admire the tranquil façade of Midland House. An odd thought swam through his mind. Midland House deserved a proper mistress. Like Josceline. And children. Like Philip and Tom.
Nonsense.
He shook his head. Marriage wasn’t yet in his plans for he must first set himself up in the shipping business. No, he corrected himself. First he must convince Lady Oakland he had a son. By her good graces, his acceptance into polite society would ensure the success of his business.
The carriage door thudded open and two boyish shapes tumbled out.
“Philip? Tom? Mind you wait for me.” Josceline’s voice drifted from within.
“Yes, miss.” They chorused as one as if they had been practicing their manners but they jumped from one foot to the other while they waited, eyes wide as saucers as they inspected the surroundings. They began to wrestle, grunting and laughing and trying to topple each other over, a far cry from the sad sight of this morning.
Lud, how resilient and full of energy young boys could be. His newly found confidence about tomorrow waned. They had less than twenty four hours before Lady Oakland arrived and at this particular moment the two reminded him of nothing less than unschooled rambunctious puppies.
A few seconds later, a slender, ivory hand grasped the doorway and his eyes were drawn to a dainty foot reaching for the top step. Chagrin cascaded through him. In his apprehension about the impending visit, he had totally forgotten his manners.
“Allow me.” Christopher reached for Josceline’s hand, careful to drop it once she had reached the ground. He needed all his reason and he mustn’t let his attraction to her bamboozle him.
She turned limpid green eyes to him. “Mr. Sharrington, please have a footman take Philip and Tom to the stables,” she said calmly. “The boys and I have had a lovely visit and I promised them if they sat still during the ride home they could see the horses.”
“Splendid suggestion,” agreed a dumbfounded Christopher. Apparently Josceline was prepared to take charge. Confidence welled up again. They were two adults, he reminded himself, surely they were the equal of two orphaned boys.
They waited by the carriage until the footman came and took the youngsters.
“Bring them to the kitchen when they’ve had their fill,” ordered Christopher before turning to take Josceline’s elbow. They
His expression prompted her as to where she was and why. Certainly tomorrow’s impending visit unsettled her. And certainly it all hinged on how well the boy played his part. For now she would turn her attention to the boys, and in particular Philip.
She would wait until she reached the sanctuary of her room to read the letter.
But it burned where she tucked it inside her spencer.
* * *
Disdain curled the lip of Lord Oliver Candel as he watched the Sharrington carriage disappear into the hubbub of Bristol’s streets. How crass of the man to remind him of the gaming debt and certainly not the action of one of the peerage to pick a public walkway in which to do so.
How had a man of Sharrington’s ilk even gained entry into Bristol’s finest gaming establishment? Fumed Candel. Furthermore, how presumptuous of the man to hand over his card as if he, Oliver Candel, would gladly open his doors to the scum.
He slammed his walking step into the ground. Watch your step, Sharrington, or you shall rue the day you sought to challenge me.
* * *
As Christopher rode home to Midland House beside the coachman, the fresh air cleared his jumbled thoughts and allowed him to consider Lady Oakland’s visit tomorrow in a more relaxed frame of mind.
It really shouldn’t be too difficult to convince the woman Philip was his son. Tom, the younger boy could simply be kept elsewhere during the interview.
With a light heart, he jumped off the coach and paused to admire the tranquil façade of Midland House. An odd thought swam through his mind. Midland House deserved a proper mistress. Like Josceline. And children. Like Philip and Tom.
Nonsense.
He shook his head. Marriage wasn’t yet in his plans for he must first set himself up in the shipping business. No, he corrected himself. First he must convince Lady Oakland he had a son. By her good graces, his acceptance into polite society would ensure the success of his business.
The carriage door thudded open and two boyish shapes tumbled out.
“Philip? Tom? Mind you wait for me.” Josceline’s voice drifted from within.
“Yes, miss.” They chorused as one as if they had been practicing their manners but they jumped from one foot to the other while they waited, eyes wide as saucers as they inspected the surroundings. They began to wrestle, grunting and laughing and trying to topple each other over, a far cry from the sad sight of this morning.
Lud, how resilient and full of energy young boys could be. His newly found confidence about tomorrow waned. They had less than twenty four hours before Lady Oakland arrived and at this particular moment the two reminded him of nothing less than unschooled rambunctious puppies.
A few seconds later, a slender, ivory hand grasped the doorway and his eyes were drawn to a dainty foot reaching for the top step. Chagrin cascaded through him. In his apprehension about the impending visit, he had totally forgotten his manners.
“Allow me.” Christopher reached for Josceline’s hand, careful to drop it once she had reached the ground. He needed all his reason and he mustn’t let his attraction to her bamboozle him.
She turned limpid green eyes to him. “Mr. Sharrington, please have a footman take Philip and Tom to the stables,” she said calmly. “The boys and I have had a lovely visit and I promised them if they sat still during the ride home they could see the horses.”
“Splendid suggestion,” agreed a dumbfounded Christopher. Apparently Josceline was prepared to take charge. Confidence welled up again. They were two adults, he reminded himself, surely they were the equal of two orphaned boys.
They waited by the carriage until the footman came and took the youngsters.
“Bring them to the kitchen when they’ve had their fill,” ordered Christopher before turning to take Josceline’s elbow. They