Read Online Etiquette With The Devil by Rebecca Paula - Free Book Online
Authors: Rebecca Paula
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“Minnie is going to be very happy to see the flowers you picked for her.”
Grace nodded, trying to pull the head of a daisy into her mouth as if she were a grazing goat. “Pretty.”
“Yes,” Clara agreed, pulling the flowers out of reach with a laugh. “Let’s save them for looking. We can find something else to eat once—”
“It’s Miss Dawson, isn’t it?”
Clara strengthened her hold around Grace as she turned to see Mrs. Gibbs, flanked by a young woman and man. “Yes…”
“We’ve come to lend a hand,” Mrs. Gibbs said, picking up a heavy leather duffle. “I won’t be having anyone slander the likes of a respectable woman placed in an unusual position. Living alone with two bachelors without another woman present. Hogwash.”
“Thank you for the thought.” Clara dropped a kiss on Grace’s head, unsure of what to say or do next. Three pairs of eyes looked at her for direction.
“I was the boy’s nanny for a time,” Mrs. Gibbs finished. “And housekeeper when his father abandoned his mother.”
The boy . Mr. Ravensdale certainly had the tendencies of such. Perhaps those rumors about India were true then. But why did Bly leave his mother alone to be with his father in India?
“I’ve brought my daughter, Molly, to help with the children. And her husband, Freddie Nash, has agreed to help with the house repairs and gardens. He’s a miracle worker with flowerbeds.”
Clara looked to the two newcomers and nodded her hello.
“And this is their son, Theodore. I’ll be watching him myself, so as Molly can look after the children proper,” Mrs. Gibbs said. A little boy with black curly hair, stuck his head out from behind the woman’s apron.
Molly appeared younger than Clara, a tall and skinny girl with a rash of freckles across her face and the same dull, beady eyes of her mother. Mr. Nash looked a few years older and was rather tall as well, with black hair and the oddest eyes—so blue they bordered on violet. It appeared as if Theodore inherited the same coloring.
“Follow me, please. I’m sure Mr. Ravensdale will want to give his opinion before you start.” He always has one, she thought. She shouldered the heavy front door open, Grace still on her hip, then paused in the foyer. Mr. Ravensdale and Mr. Barnes dangled before her, fencing from sheets tied to the second story balustrade. Minnie and James cheered the dueling pair on, jumping up and down like heathens charging a battlefield.
“Come. Here,” yelled Mr. Ravensdale in short, staccato exasperations. He attempted to swing toward Mr. Barnes, but Mr. Barnes merely laughed and swung the fencing sword again at his opponent.
Mr. Ravensdale ascended higher and swooped toward Mr. Barnes, but Mr. Barnes had the advantage of his lanky length and, without mercy, stabbed Mr. Ravensdale at the base of his back until the sword bowed.
“Another point for me,” Mr. Barnes declared.
“You bloody bastard!” Mr. Ravensdale swung back with renewed vigor. The children giggled and whooped with glee to see their uncle under attack.
Clara set down Grace. “Mr. Ravensdale!”
He slipped and crashed to the floor at the sound of Clara’s voice, landing on his back before tossing his hands up in defeat, muttering curse after curse. Mrs. Gibbs came to stand next to Clara, hefting her hands to rest onto her wide hips, a vexed look furrowed at her thick brows.
“Why, Miss Dawson,” Mr. Barnes exclaimed. He smiled as he shimmied down the length of the sheet. “I hope you had a pleasant stroll.”
She chose to ignore the ever-charming Mr. Barnes and marched over to her employer, clearly winded from his fall. “I would like to know how this began,” she ordered from above him.
“They started up here, Miss Clara,” Minnie tattled.
“They tied the sheets into ropes and fenced with each other,” continued James. He grabbed his own makeshift sword and charged after Minnie through the upstairs hallway, banging into the
“Minnie is going to be very happy to see the flowers you picked for her.”
Grace nodded, trying to pull the head of a daisy into her mouth as if she were a grazing goat. “Pretty.”
“Yes,” Clara agreed, pulling the flowers out of reach with a laugh. “Let’s save them for looking. We can find something else to eat once—”
“It’s Miss Dawson, isn’t it?”
Clara strengthened her hold around Grace as she turned to see Mrs. Gibbs, flanked by a young woman and man. “Yes…”
“We’ve come to lend a hand,” Mrs. Gibbs said, picking up a heavy leather duffle. “I won’t be having anyone slander the likes of a respectable woman placed in an unusual position. Living alone with two bachelors without another woman present. Hogwash.”
“Thank you for the thought.” Clara dropped a kiss on Grace’s head, unsure of what to say or do next. Three pairs of eyes looked at her for direction.
“I was the boy’s nanny for a time,” Mrs. Gibbs finished. “And housekeeper when his father abandoned his mother.”
The boy . Mr. Ravensdale certainly had the tendencies of such. Perhaps those rumors about India were true then. But why did Bly leave his mother alone to be with his father in India?
“I’ve brought my daughter, Molly, to help with the children. And her husband, Freddie Nash, has agreed to help with the house repairs and gardens. He’s a miracle worker with flowerbeds.”
Clara looked to the two newcomers and nodded her hello.
“And this is their son, Theodore. I’ll be watching him myself, so as Molly can look after the children proper,” Mrs. Gibbs said. A little boy with black curly hair, stuck his head out from behind the woman’s apron.
Molly appeared younger than Clara, a tall and skinny girl with a rash of freckles across her face and the same dull, beady eyes of her mother. Mr. Nash looked a few years older and was rather tall as well, with black hair and the oddest eyes—so blue they bordered on violet. It appeared as if Theodore inherited the same coloring.
“Follow me, please. I’m sure Mr. Ravensdale will want to give his opinion before you start.” He always has one, she thought. She shouldered the heavy front door open, Grace still on her hip, then paused in the foyer. Mr. Ravensdale and Mr. Barnes dangled before her, fencing from sheets tied to the second story balustrade. Minnie and James cheered the dueling pair on, jumping up and down like heathens charging a battlefield.
“Come. Here,” yelled Mr. Ravensdale in short, staccato exasperations. He attempted to swing toward Mr. Barnes, but Mr. Barnes merely laughed and swung the fencing sword again at his opponent.
Mr. Ravensdale ascended higher and swooped toward Mr. Barnes, but Mr. Barnes had the advantage of his lanky length and, without mercy, stabbed Mr. Ravensdale at the base of his back until the sword bowed.
“Another point for me,” Mr. Barnes declared.
“You bloody bastard!” Mr. Ravensdale swung back with renewed vigor. The children giggled and whooped with glee to see their uncle under attack.
Clara set down Grace. “Mr. Ravensdale!”
He slipped and crashed to the floor at the sound of Clara’s voice, landing on his back before tossing his hands up in defeat, muttering curse after curse. Mrs. Gibbs came to stand next to Clara, hefting her hands to rest onto her wide hips, a vexed look furrowed at her thick brows.
“Why, Miss Dawson,” Mr. Barnes exclaimed. He smiled as he shimmied down the length of the sheet. “I hope you had a pleasant stroll.”
She chose to ignore the ever-charming Mr. Barnes and marched over to her employer, clearly winded from his fall. “I would like to know how this began,” she ordered from above him.
“They started up here, Miss Clara,” Minnie tattled.
“They tied the sheets into ropes and fenced with each other,” continued James. He grabbed his own makeshift sword and charged after Minnie through the upstairs hallway, banging into the
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