Read Online A Rake Reformed (A Gentleman of Worth Book 6) by Shirley Marks - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Shirley Marks
Ads: Link
the ordinary.
“Oh, yes,” Clare replied by rote and turned to their guest. “Will you not be seated, sir?”
“Thank you, I shall.” Mr. Worth gestured to Clare to precede him.
“Oh, no, we must first see if there is anything Mr. Trevor needs. Come, Mama.”
“I fear that he has caught a chill if he is unwell.” Mrs. Harris stood and passed by Mr. Worth to join Clare. “I shall have something warm to drink brought to him at once.”
Clare turned to her sister. “Of course you will stay and keep Mr. Freddie company, will you not, Rosalind?”
“Of course I shall.” She would not like it but Rosalind would comply.
“Thank you, Ros!” Clare touched her sister’s shoulder in gratitude before she quit the room, followed by Mrs. Harris.
“You must be fatigued from your journey. Please be seated, Mr. Worth.” Rosalind made the best of her situation.
“You are too kind, Miss Harris.” The gentleman inclined his head and moved to the striped sofa and finally took a seat.
There was a long and very awkward silence that stretched between them. Mr. Worth cleared his throat but did not speak. The quiet continued. He could not have liked her any more than she cared for him. If he had proper manners he would not allow such an uncomfortable silence to take hold.
Rudesby!
“I must thank your family for welcoming two complete strangers into your home.” He had quite a pleasant, cultured voice. “I know Trevor’s, Mr. Rutherford’s, recovery will be expedited with his improved circumstances.”
“You have Clare to thank, not I,” Rosalind corrected. “It was she who brought your friend’s plight to our parents’ attention. The Morleys are not responsible for their living conditions.”
“Agreed. They have no proper dwelling to call their own. They did what they could. Why should they not move into the abandoned, large house? I do not believe anyone would have thought Penshaw Manor derelict?”
“That was your and Mr. Rutherford’s destination, was it not? You must be acquainted with the Earl of Brent?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Mr. Worth replied. “We all attended Eton. On a lark, Trev and I thought we’d drop in. Must have been in our cups, I expect.”
“Not a well-thought-out plan?” Rosalind could imagine two men-about-town acting in a rash fashion, especially after an evening of drinking.
“No one has ever accused us . . . er . . . me of making plans ahead of time.” He sounded remorseful.
“I see.” There was no reason for Mr. Worth to confide in her.
“Once we arrived, Penshaw was not quite what we expected.” The stark honesty of his answer made Rosalind believe he, and perhaps Mr. Rutherford also, were more affected by the condition of the house than he let on. “I hear His Lordship is not very well liked in these parts but he’s really not a bad sort of a fellow upon acquaintance.”
“I suppose it remains to be seen, sir. If he ever dares to show his face.” Rosalind eyed Mr. Worth, measuring his trustworthiness as to Lord Brent’s character.
“Do you think I should warn him off? Write to him and tell him to never inhabit Penshaw Manor?”
“If he were a real man he would not care what anyone thinks of him and he would take residence, repair his house, and do his duty to his tenants.”
Chapter Seven
A few hours later Freddie dined with Mrs. Harris and the two Miss Harrises. There was a thick white soup followed by a cold tray of meat with tasty sauces, seasoned potatoes, and warm, crusty bread and butter. The longer Freddie sat at the table enjoying his dinner, the heavier his eyelids grew and the more Miss Rosalind Harris’s words haunted him: If he were a real man he would not care what anyone thinks of him and he would take residence, repair his house, and do his duty to his tenants.
Too fatigued to push the words from his mind, he refused to allow himself to dwell on them, but Freddie knew she was right.
At the end of the
“Oh, yes,” Clare replied by rote and turned to their guest. “Will you not be seated, sir?”
“Thank you, I shall.” Mr. Worth gestured to Clare to precede him.
“Oh, no, we must first see if there is anything Mr. Trevor needs. Come, Mama.”
“I fear that he has caught a chill if he is unwell.” Mrs. Harris stood and passed by Mr. Worth to join Clare. “I shall have something warm to drink brought to him at once.”
Clare turned to her sister. “Of course you will stay and keep Mr. Freddie company, will you not, Rosalind?”
“Of course I shall.” She would not like it but Rosalind would comply.
“Thank you, Ros!” Clare touched her sister’s shoulder in gratitude before she quit the room, followed by Mrs. Harris.
“You must be fatigued from your journey. Please be seated, Mr. Worth.” Rosalind made the best of her situation.
“You are too kind, Miss Harris.” The gentleman inclined his head and moved to the striped sofa and finally took a seat.
There was a long and very awkward silence that stretched between them. Mr. Worth cleared his throat but did not speak. The quiet continued. He could not have liked her any more than she cared for him. If he had proper manners he would not allow such an uncomfortable silence to take hold.
Rudesby!
“I must thank your family for welcoming two complete strangers into your home.” He had quite a pleasant, cultured voice. “I know Trevor’s, Mr. Rutherford’s, recovery will be expedited with his improved circumstances.”
“You have Clare to thank, not I,” Rosalind corrected. “It was she who brought your friend’s plight to our parents’ attention. The Morleys are not responsible for their living conditions.”
“Agreed. They have no proper dwelling to call their own. They did what they could. Why should they not move into the abandoned, large house? I do not believe anyone would have thought Penshaw Manor derelict?”
“That was your and Mr. Rutherford’s destination, was it not? You must be acquainted with the Earl of Brent?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Mr. Worth replied. “We all attended Eton. On a lark, Trev and I thought we’d drop in. Must have been in our cups, I expect.”
“Not a well-thought-out plan?” Rosalind could imagine two men-about-town acting in a rash fashion, especially after an evening of drinking.
“No one has ever accused us . . . er . . . me of making plans ahead of time.” He sounded remorseful.
“I see.” There was no reason for Mr. Worth to confide in her.
“Once we arrived, Penshaw was not quite what we expected.” The stark honesty of his answer made Rosalind believe he, and perhaps Mr. Rutherford also, were more affected by the condition of the house than he let on. “I hear His Lordship is not very well liked in these parts but he’s really not a bad sort of a fellow upon acquaintance.”
“I suppose it remains to be seen, sir. If he ever dares to show his face.” Rosalind eyed Mr. Worth, measuring his trustworthiness as to Lord Brent’s character.
“Do you think I should warn him off? Write to him and tell him to never inhabit Penshaw Manor?”
“If he were a real man he would not care what anyone thinks of him and he would take residence, repair his house, and do his duty to his tenants.”
Chapter Seven
A few hours later Freddie dined with Mrs. Harris and the two Miss Harrises. There was a thick white soup followed by a cold tray of meat with tasty sauces, seasoned potatoes, and warm, crusty bread and butter. The longer Freddie sat at the table enjoying his dinner, the heavier his eyelids grew and the more Miss Rosalind Harris’s words haunted him: If he were a real man he would not care what anyone thinks of him and he would take residence, repair his house, and do his duty to his tenants.
Too fatigued to push the words from his mind, he refused to allow himself to dwell on them, but Freddie knew she was right.
At the end of the
Similar Books
