Read Online A Rake’s Guide to Seduction by Caroline Linden - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Caroline Linden
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three-year-old child by his courtesy title.
“Might I meet your brother?” she asked him. Without looking up, Thomas nodded, and Hannah led her into the next room. In a cradle near the window, a baby with a round face and wispy curls slept, his tiny fingers wrapped around a wooden duck.
“He adores the duck,” whispered Hannah, juggling her older son into a different position. “He cannot go to sleep without it.”
Celia’s mouth curved; she remembered choosing that duck for her new nephew before he was even born, from a man who lived in Keswick and carved startlingly realistic animals. That had been a week before Bertie took ill. Her smile faded, and she sighed silently. “He’s a handsome child,” she said in a low voice. A handsome child like she had never had.
“Thank you,” Hannah replied, her voice filled with affectionate pride. “But we should go see Molly.” She returned Thomas to his table, soothed his protests at being left behind, and they left him with his nursemaid, who had been waiting quietly in the corner.
Molly was in the schoolroom, where Celia vaguely recalled learning her own sums and letters. Celia remembered Molly very well, a darling child who loved to dig in the dirt and catch bugs and fish. She was brought up short by the girl who looked up when they entered the schoolroom.
“Aunt Celia!” The girl got to her feet and bobbed a brief curtsy. “How lovely to see you again!”
“And you, Molly,” said Celia warmly. “Although I can scarce recognize you. You’ve grown so tall.”
Molly grinned. She was tall, or seemed so to Celia, and her hair was no longer a tangle of long blond curls but a darker honey color, and neatly combed. Her face had lengthened and taken on sharper contours, making her look more like her mother. Her hands were just as dirty as Celia remembered, though.
Molly must have realized it as well, for she blushed and put them behind her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was working on my drawing.”
“May I see?”
Molly nodded, and Celia moved forward to look. A tulip, sliced neatly in half, lay on the table. A half-finished drawing of the plant was next to it; Molly had carefully sketched the insides of the plant and labeled them. “It’s quite good,” she said.
“Thank you.” Molly crossed the room and brought back a portfolio. “Here are the rest of them. Mr. Griggs has undertaken to teach me about all the plants in the gardens.”
Celia’s eyebrows went up as she turned page after page of drawings. “They’re lovely,” she said, amazed more at the dedication and effort than at the technical skill. She would not have had such patience, or interest, when she was only nine years old.
The girl beamed. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Celia put down the book. “Please call me Aunt Celia, like you used to do.”
Molly’s face grew even brighter. “Gladly, Aunt Celia.”
“It’s time for Miss Preston’s riding lesson, Your Grace,” said a young woman then, who must have been the governess.
Hannah looked at Molly. “You may join us for tea after your lesson, if you wish.”
“Yes, thank you.” Molly grinned once more at Celia. “I shall see you then.”
“Yes.” Celia smiled and followed Hannah from the room as Molly went to change into her riding clothes. “She’s grown so tall,” she said again.
Hannah looked amused. “Hasn’t she? She has also become an expert on everything. No question arises but that Molly has the answer—and she is quick to tell us so. Your mother says she has picked up a great deal of Marcus’s manner, which I doubt is a good thing in a girl of her age.”
“Where is Marcus? Will he be here?” For some reason Celia was hesitant to see her brother; she had a vague sense of foreboding. Marcus, after all, had been persuaded against his better judgment to give Bertie permission to marry her. She knew he wouldn’t speak of it, but she knew he would remember.
“He should return soon. I’ve sent around
“Might I meet your brother?” she asked him. Without looking up, Thomas nodded, and Hannah led her into the next room. In a cradle near the window, a baby with a round face and wispy curls slept, his tiny fingers wrapped around a wooden duck.
“He adores the duck,” whispered Hannah, juggling her older son into a different position. “He cannot go to sleep without it.”
Celia’s mouth curved; she remembered choosing that duck for her new nephew before he was even born, from a man who lived in Keswick and carved startlingly realistic animals. That had been a week before Bertie took ill. Her smile faded, and she sighed silently. “He’s a handsome child,” she said in a low voice. A handsome child like she had never had.
“Thank you,” Hannah replied, her voice filled with affectionate pride. “But we should go see Molly.” She returned Thomas to his table, soothed his protests at being left behind, and they left him with his nursemaid, who had been waiting quietly in the corner.
Molly was in the schoolroom, where Celia vaguely recalled learning her own sums and letters. Celia remembered Molly very well, a darling child who loved to dig in the dirt and catch bugs and fish. She was brought up short by the girl who looked up when they entered the schoolroom.
“Aunt Celia!” The girl got to her feet and bobbed a brief curtsy. “How lovely to see you again!”
“And you, Molly,” said Celia warmly. “Although I can scarce recognize you. You’ve grown so tall.”
Molly grinned. She was tall, or seemed so to Celia, and her hair was no longer a tangle of long blond curls but a darker honey color, and neatly combed. Her face had lengthened and taken on sharper contours, making her look more like her mother. Her hands were just as dirty as Celia remembered, though.
Molly must have realized it as well, for she blushed and put them behind her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was working on my drawing.”
“May I see?”
Molly nodded, and Celia moved forward to look. A tulip, sliced neatly in half, lay on the table. A half-finished drawing of the plant was next to it; Molly had carefully sketched the insides of the plant and labeled them. “It’s quite good,” she said.
“Thank you.” Molly crossed the room and brought back a portfolio. “Here are the rest of them. Mr. Griggs has undertaken to teach me about all the plants in the gardens.”
Celia’s eyebrows went up as she turned page after page of drawings. “They’re lovely,” she said, amazed more at the dedication and effort than at the technical skill. She would not have had such patience, or interest, when she was only nine years old.
The girl beamed. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Celia put down the book. “Please call me Aunt Celia, like you used to do.”
Molly’s face grew even brighter. “Gladly, Aunt Celia.”
“It’s time for Miss Preston’s riding lesson, Your Grace,” said a young woman then, who must have been the governess.
Hannah looked at Molly. “You may join us for tea after your lesson, if you wish.”
“Yes, thank you.” Molly grinned once more at Celia. “I shall see you then.”
“Yes.” Celia smiled and followed Hannah from the room as Molly went to change into her riding clothes. “She’s grown so tall,” she said again.
Hannah looked amused. “Hasn’t she? She has also become an expert on everything. No question arises but that Molly has the answer—and she is quick to tell us so. Your mother says she has picked up a great deal of Marcus’s manner, which I doubt is a good thing in a girl of her age.”
“Where is Marcus? Will he be here?” For some reason Celia was hesitant to see her brother; she had a vague sense of foreboding. Marcus, after all, had been persuaded against his better judgment to give Bertie permission to marry her. She knew he wouldn’t speak of it, but she knew he would remember.
“He should return soon. I’ve sent around
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