Read Online Family In The Making (Matchmakeing Babies 2) by Jo Ann Brown - Free Book Online
Authors: Jo Ann Brown
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his had touched it. “I know the children will be eager to race about after being inside this afternoon.”
“Good.”
It took every bit of Maris’s will for her to tear her gaze from his and walk toward the door. As she passed Goodwin, he gave her a silent nod. He opened the door so she could leave. She was glad he did, because her fingers trembled, and she was not sure she could have managed the latch.
She rushed toward the stairs leading up to the nursery floor. Tonight, the children needed to rest after their eventful day. But in the morning, once they finished breakfast and were clean and dressed, she would let them know about the outing with Lord Trelawney. They would be excited to have their tea al fresco. While they played, she would sit with the viscount for what she hoped would be another comfortable coze.
She halted in the middle of the staircase and clutched the banister. Oh, sweet heavens! Was she looking forward to seeing Lord Trelawney again on the morrow? She had no idea which version of him would be there: the quiet, almost forbidding man who had gone with them to the cove or the genial man whom she had spoken with minutes ago.
But it should not matter. The abrupt change should be alarming rather than appealing, a signal to remind her that becoming involved even a tiny bit in the viscount’s life could lead her into a desperate situation. As when Lord Litchfield had chanced upon her alone in the book room. Had she completely lost every bit of her good sense? It would seem so, and she must recover it fast.
Very fast, before she ruined everything again, including herself.
Chapter Four
T hough clouds gathered on the western horizon, sunlight shone through the changing leaves as if the whole world was bedecked in stained glass. Arthur inhaled deeply as he sat on the terrace overlooking the garden and the sea spread out to the horizon. Some autumn days could be unforgivingly windy, and today seemed like a special gift, before winter took Cornwall in its unforgiving grip.
He savored sitting in the sunshine while a breeze carried the pungent aromas of salt, drying fish and tar from the harbor. Even though he had been confined to the house less than a day, it seemed longer to a man accustomed to a life outdoors.
The rhythm of hammers came from where the stable was being rebuilt. It had burned two months ago, but the new one was rising. He had overseen the plans for it, and the building would be well suited for their use.
“You look satisfied with yourself,” said his older sister as she stepped onto the terrace. Carrie shifted into the shade so the baby she carried would not be bothered by the sunshine.
He started to rise, then thought better of it when pain slashed up his leg. Sinking into the chair, he said, “I was thinking of how those French pirates who tried to invade Porthlowen did us a favor by giving us an excuse to build a new stable.”
Carrie shivered and sat facing him. “You have an odd way of seeing good in something terrible.”
“As Shakespeare wrote, ‘Ill blows the wind that profits nobody.’” Arthur chuckled. “My tutor despaired of me ever retaining his lessons, but for some reason that quote stayed with me.”
She slapped his arm playfully. “Do not pretend with me, Arthur. You always loved learning. While Raymond, Susanna and I were eager to play, you clung to the schoolroom. The dutiful son, learning his lessons and staying out of trouble.”
“Sometimes.” Again, the image burst into his head of his baby sister lying facedown in the water. “When I was younger, I was not as responsible.”
“None of us were.” She gazed out at the sea. “How could we spend our time in books when we had a vast wonderland to explore in Porthlowen?”
They sat in companionable silence, enjoying the sunshine. He kept his leg motionless, not wanting more of the jagged pains that sliced up from his ankle when he walked. He had refused to allow Goodwin to call for a couple of
“Good.”
It took every bit of Maris’s will for her to tear her gaze from his and walk toward the door. As she passed Goodwin, he gave her a silent nod. He opened the door so she could leave. She was glad he did, because her fingers trembled, and she was not sure she could have managed the latch.
She rushed toward the stairs leading up to the nursery floor. Tonight, the children needed to rest after their eventful day. But in the morning, once they finished breakfast and were clean and dressed, she would let them know about the outing with Lord Trelawney. They would be excited to have their tea al fresco. While they played, she would sit with the viscount for what she hoped would be another comfortable coze.
She halted in the middle of the staircase and clutched the banister. Oh, sweet heavens! Was she looking forward to seeing Lord Trelawney again on the morrow? She had no idea which version of him would be there: the quiet, almost forbidding man who had gone with them to the cove or the genial man whom she had spoken with minutes ago.
But it should not matter. The abrupt change should be alarming rather than appealing, a signal to remind her that becoming involved even a tiny bit in the viscount’s life could lead her into a desperate situation. As when Lord Litchfield had chanced upon her alone in the book room. Had she completely lost every bit of her good sense? It would seem so, and she must recover it fast.
Very fast, before she ruined everything again, including herself.
Chapter Four
T hough clouds gathered on the western horizon, sunlight shone through the changing leaves as if the whole world was bedecked in stained glass. Arthur inhaled deeply as he sat on the terrace overlooking the garden and the sea spread out to the horizon. Some autumn days could be unforgivingly windy, and today seemed like a special gift, before winter took Cornwall in its unforgiving grip.
He savored sitting in the sunshine while a breeze carried the pungent aromas of salt, drying fish and tar from the harbor. Even though he had been confined to the house less than a day, it seemed longer to a man accustomed to a life outdoors.
The rhythm of hammers came from where the stable was being rebuilt. It had burned two months ago, but the new one was rising. He had overseen the plans for it, and the building would be well suited for their use.
“You look satisfied with yourself,” said his older sister as she stepped onto the terrace. Carrie shifted into the shade so the baby she carried would not be bothered by the sunshine.
He started to rise, then thought better of it when pain slashed up his leg. Sinking into the chair, he said, “I was thinking of how those French pirates who tried to invade Porthlowen did us a favor by giving us an excuse to build a new stable.”
Carrie shivered and sat facing him. “You have an odd way of seeing good in something terrible.”
“As Shakespeare wrote, ‘Ill blows the wind that profits nobody.’” Arthur chuckled. “My tutor despaired of me ever retaining his lessons, but for some reason that quote stayed with me.”
She slapped his arm playfully. “Do not pretend with me, Arthur. You always loved learning. While Raymond, Susanna and I were eager to play, you clung to the schoolroom. The dutiful son, learning his lessons and staying out of trouble.”
“Sometimes.” Again, the image burst into his head of his baby sister lying facedown in the water. “When I was younger, I was not as responsible.”
“None of us were.” She gazed out at the sea. “How could we spend our time in books when we had a vast wonderland to explore in Porthlowen?”
They sat in companionable silence, enjoying the sunshine. He kept his leg motionless, not wanting more of the jagged pains that sliced up from his ankle when he walked. He had refused to allow Goodwin to call for a couple of
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