Read Online Charity Begins at Home by Alicia Rasley - Free Book Online
Authors: Alicia Rasley
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admiring, but he didn't object, for Anna's eyes, so recently lackluster, were flashing in response to his perceived offense. "I said nothing critical."
"You're judging her bold because she speaks up clearly and looks you directly in the eye and doesn't practice those mysterious die-away airs all your flirts cultivate. Men!"
Her spirited charge had quite dried the tears in her eyes, and Tristan laughingly held up his hands in protest. "I am not judging her at all. I concede that she's a fine girl. She's cheered you and that's enough to earn her my regard. But you must admit, Anna, that she is a bit—"
He let his voice trail off, and Anna obligingly filled in the blank. "Talkative? Oh, I imagine she is, but she is most amusing, isn't she? I know you don't like that sort of girl. You'd prefer her to communicate entirely in significant looks and wistful sighs."
"How do you know what I'd like?" he demanded.
"Because you are my baby brother, and your tastes haven't changed since you were thirteen and fell in love with that mysterious French émigré who turned out to be a jewel thief."
Tristan hadn't thought of Madame Daumier in a decade, but for his sister's sake he reminisced, "The perfect woman. She opened her mouth only for kissing."
Instead of shock, Anna responded with a big sister's skepticism. "How would you know? And I heard she also opened her mouth to smoke opium."
"No wonder I worship her still. An opium-smoking jewel thief—the stuff of dreams."
Anna's laughter dissolved into tears, and he held her against him as sobs racked her fragile body. She was still so beautiful, even after three months shut away in grief. Their mother had been just the same, heartbreakingly lovely even as she died of sorrow. But Anna wouldn't, not if he could help it. He waited for her tears to abate, then gently urged her back on the pillows.
"You must rest now. You have a picnic tomorrow, do you remember?"
"Oh, Tristan," she whispered, "I can't."
"You must." He rose abruptly and went to the door, then forced himself to turn back with a smile. "If you aren't ready to celebrate at eleven, your Miss Calder will have my head. And I know you'd never consign your baby brother to such a fate."
"She's really very nice, Tristan, she is!" Her faint protests followed him out the door. He heard his nephews thundering up the stairs and thought Miss Calder's old governess couldn't arrive too soon to suit him.
Chapter Four
“ I worry about you, Charity," the Reverend Mr. Langworth said in his avuncular way as they walked through the nave of the old church. The morning sunlight streamed in through the stained-glass windows, outlining every mote of dust their entrance had stirred up. "Taking on so much, with your usual household duties, and the poor work. Just preparing your brother for Eton will take all summer! I wish you would not have cut your time in London short, for I'm persuaded you need a holiday far more than we need this rubbish about Midsummer."
"Oh, a season in London is hardly a holiday." Charity stopped by a battered pew and with her handkerchief rubbed off a bit of gumdrop from the seat back. After Midsummer, she thought, I must get all the ladies to come in and scrub down every pew and beat out the kneelers, too. "I have got much better rest since I've been home away from all the traffic noise. And you needn't worry about me! You've always said I have too much energy. Why, if I hadn't the outlet of the church work and the Midsummer fair, I don't doubt I would have to take up smuggling just for diversion!"
"But to come home early from your grand season for such a trivial purpose! Why, I heard Mrs. Williams just yesterday lamenting that with another week you might have made the acquaintance of some respectable man that you could have joined in life."
The vicar's sigh was quite well done as he continued down the aisle, his hands clasped behind his back, his head bent so that Charity couldn't see his expression. But she
"You're judging her bold because she speaks up clearly and looks you directly in the eye and doesn't practice those mysterious die-away airs all your flirts cultivate. Men!"
Her spirited charge had quite dried the tears in her eyes, and Tristan laughingly held up his hands in protest. "I am not judging her at all. I concede that she's a fine girl. She's cheered you and that's enough to earn her my regard. But you must admit, Anna, that she is a bit—"
He let his voice trail off, and Anna obligingly filled in the blank. "Talkative? Oh, I imagine she is, but she is most amusing, isn't she? I know you don't like that sort of girl. You'd prefer her to communicate entirely in significant looks and wistful sighs."
"How do you know what I'd like?" he demanded.
"Because you are my baby brother, and your tastes haven't changed since you were thirteen and fell in love with that mysterious French émigré who turned out to be a jewel thief."
Tristan hadn't thought of Madame Daumier in a decade, but for his sister's sake he reminisced, "The perfect woman. She opened her mouth only for kissing."
Instead of shock, Anna responded with a big sister's skepticism. "How would you know? And I heard she also opened her mouth to smoke opium."
"No wonder I worship her still. An opium-smoking jewel thief—the stuff of dreams."
Anna's laughter dissolved into tears, and he held her against him as sobs racked her fragile body. She was still so beautiful, even after three months shut away in grief. Their mother had been just the same, heartbreakingly lovely even as she died of sorrow. But Anna wouldn't, not if he could help it. He waited for her tears to abate, then gently urged her back on the pillows.
"You must rest now. You have a picnic tomorrow, do you remember?"
"Oh, Tristan," she whispered, "I can't."
"You must." He rose abruptly and went to the door, then forced himself to turn back with a smile. "If you aren't ready to celebrate at eleven, your Miss Calder will have my head. And I know you'd never consign your baby brother to such a fate."
"She's really very nice, Tristan, she is!" Her faint protests followed him out the door. He heard his nephews thundering up the stairs and thought Miss Calder's old governess couldn't arrive too soon to suit him.
Chapter Four
“ I worry about you, Charity," the Reverend Mr. Langworth said in his avuncular way as they walked through the nave of the old church. The morning sunlight streamed in through the stained-glass windows, outlining every mote of dust their entrance had stirred up. "Taking on so much, with your usual household duties, and the poor work. Just preparing your brother for Eton will take all summer! I wish you would not have cut your time in London short, for I'm persuaded you need a holiday far more than we need this rubbish about Midsummer."
"Oh, a season in London is hardly a holiday." Charity stopped by a battered pew and with her handkerchief rubbed off a bit of gumdrop from the seat back. After Midsummer, she thought, I must get all the ladies to come in and scrub down every pew and beat out the kneelers, too. "I have got much better rest since I've been home away from all the traffic noise. And you needn't worry about me! You've always said I have too much energy. Why, if I hadn't the outlet of the church work and the Midsummer fair, I don't doubt I would have to take up smuggling just for diversion!"
"But to come home early from your grand season for such a trivial purpose! Why, I heard Mrs. Williams just yesterday lamenting that with another week you might have made the acquaintance of some respectable man that you could have joined in life."
The vicar's sigh was quite well done as he continued down the aisle, his hands clasped behind his back, his head bent so that Charity couldn't see his expression. But she
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