Read Online A Christmas Gambol by Joan Smith - Free Book Online Page B

typical!” Meg scolded. “And I had Cook make his favorite luncheon, too. I should think that when I have company he might return, or at least tell me he would not be here. Perhaps you can find out where he was—but discreetly. I wouldn’t want him to think I was prying.”
    “I would hardly call it prying,” Cicely replied. “Surely a wife has a right to know. Papa always sends word if he’s going to be even ten minutes late.”
    Fairly returned at three. He made a curt bow to his wife before turning a smile in Cicely’s direction. “All set for our trip to the slums?” he asked. “I see you have dressed for the occasion. Very wise.”
    He assumed her modest gown had been chosen to avoid ostentation and lessen the risk of being robbed. The bonnet and mantle she put on were of the same provincial cut as the gown. Meg’s stylish high-poke bonnet with clusters of fruit around the base of the crown rested on the banister post. He picked it up as they left the house, for he wanted to go on the strut with Cicely after they had visited Seven Dials. His reputation demanded that she appear more modish.
    “Are you not bringing any footmen?” she asked when she saw only the coachman. “Montaigne thought we ought to take a couple in case we’re attacked.”
    “I wager I can handle anything that comes along.” He handed her into the carriage and arranged a fur blanket over her knees.
    “Why did you bring Meg’s bonnet?” she asked as the carriage lurched forward.
    “Is it Meg’s? I’ve never seen her in it. I thought it was yours. No matter. It will look dashed pretty on you later.”
    “I hope Meg was not planning to wear it herself.”
    “Going out then, is she?” he asked, with some interest. “Did she happen to mention where .. .”
    “Shopping, I believe,” she prevaricated. Having her portrait done was shopping for his birthday present. “And what marvelous things were you doing all morning, milord?”
    “Demme, I wish you will call me Fairly.” His morning had consisted of rounding up a pair of bruisers to accost him and Cicely at Seven Dials, to allow him to appear heroic. Naturally he couldn’t tell Cicely that, but her bright eyes were looking at him expectantly.
    “I had business matters to attend to,” he said.
    “It must be very dear to live in London,” she said leadingly.
    “M’dear, you don’t know the half of it. Meg has spent a thousand pounds on gewgaws this month,” he exaggerated, to impress her. “Three new bonnets! To say nothing of that bill from her modiste. She has ample pin money, but I am sent her bills. I should like to know how she expects me to pay for it all, on top of running the house.”
    “You can run into real trouble if you go to the cents-per-center. Why don’t you rusticate for a few months?” she suggested.
    “Ho, try to convince Meg of that! There’s no one to flirt with in the country.”
    “Then it would leave her more time for you,” she said with a playful smile.
    “She is weary of my company, Sissie.”
    “I cannot think so, for she has very little of it, from what I have seen.”
    “More than she wants, I warrant.”
    “On the contrary. She was disappointed that you could not come home for luncheon. Meg ordered your favorite raised pigeon pie.”
    “She never said so!” A small smile grew on his face.
    “Meg is not the type to complain.”
    This was news to Fairly. “And did you miss me, Sissie?” he asked with a conning smile, which Cicely ignored entirely.
    “I enjoyed having Meg to myself. Selfish of me, but we had a great deal to get caught up on. How far away is Seven Dials?” she asked, to avoid the coming flirtation.
    “Just past Charing Cross Road—not prime real estate. I’ll drive you along Piccadilly first to see the real London.”
    The west end of Piccadilly was impressive, even in November. Green Park was still green. This idyllic spot with cattle grazing seemed out of place in the heart of London. As they turned