Read Online Elizabeth Mansfield by Poor Caroline - Free Book Online Page A

since he’s your nephew, the family connection gives you every right to your affectionate feelings toward him. But I have no such connection. I needn’t accept his lame excuses, his belated attentions, or his charity. In short, I want nothing to do with the man.”
    “But, Caro, he merely wants to explain to you that it’s not charity,” Letty argued, taking a deep breath to prepare herself for the exertion she knew she would have to expend to change the stubborn girl’s attitude.
    Meanwhile, Arthur, quite unnoticed, slipped behind the butler’s back to the doorway. Signaling his brother to follow, he stole out the door and down the hall to the stairs. When Gilbert caught up with him, he said in an excited whisper, “Hurry, Gil! Let’s go down and get a glimpse of the dastardly Crittenden before Melton shows him the door!”
    The two boys tiptoed down the stairs and made for the drawing-room doorway. The door, however, was closed. “You can’t unlatch it,” Gilbert hissed. “He’ll hear.”
    “No, he won’t, if I’m careful,” Arthur mouthed, and he slowly turned the knob.
    Inside, Kit did indeed hear the latch opening. He turned from the fire to discover two pairs of eyes peeping in at him through the small opening of the door. “Do come in,” he said, smiling. “I promise not to bite.”
    The two boys entered sheepishly. The gentleman facing them was very tall and loose-limbed, with a manly face and kind gray eyes. Arthur liked him at once. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Didn’t mean to ... to ... spy on you.”
    “That’s quite all right,” Kit assured him. “If I’d been dispossessed by a monster, I’d want to get a look at him, too.”
    “You don’t look like a monster,” Gilbert said, also responding to the kindness in the man’s eyes.
    “I hope not, indeed.” Kit ruffled the boy’s hair. “You must be Gilbert.”
    “And I’m Arthur,” the older boy said, offering his hand. Kit shook it solemnly. “I hope this is a peace offering. I never meant to dispossess you, you know.”  
    “We know. Aunt Letty just told us.”  
    “Good. Then all is forgiven?”
    Gilbert and Arthur exchanged looks. “As far as we’re concerned, I suppose it is,” Arthur said.
    Kit’s brows knit. “But not as far as your sister’s concerned?”
    Arthur dropped his eyes, saying nothing.
    Gilbert, however, was less guarded. “You’re page one in Caro’s black book,” he said frankly. “She’s really down on you.”
    “Dash it, is she? Even after Letty explained—”  
    “Your name’s too black to erase, I’m afraid,” Arthur admitted.
    Kit’s brows knit in frustration. “But surely she’ll be willing, at the very least, to come down and talk to me?”  
    “No, she won’t,” Gilbert said.
    Arthur nodded in glum agreement with his brother. “Not Caro.”
    Their prophecy was confirmed by the butler, who entered shortly thereafter with Caro’s verbal message: she was not in to Lord Crittenden. Not now. Not ever.
     
     

 
     
    NINE
     
    Kit couldn’t tell if he’d come by his strong sense of duty naturally or if it had been drilled into him during his years of military service, but however he’d acquired it, he couldn’t rid himself of it. Though he longed to leave London and go home to Shropshire, that cursed sense of duty prevented him from leaving until he’d done what Mr. Halford, his aunts, and his conscience required him to do—to convince Caroline Whitlow to accept her bequest. Only then would he feel free to depart.
    After a few days, however, his mission seemed hopeless. He’d called on the blasted Miss Whitlow every day, but whenever he sent up his card, the butler returned with the message that Miss Whitlow wasn’t in. He tried varying the time of his arrival; sometimes he would call in the morning, sometimes during the afternoon, but it made no difference. Once, in desperation, he appeared on the doorstep after nine at night, an unheard-of hour for paying calls. It