Read Online Formidable Lord Quentin by Patricia Rice - Free Book Online
Authors: Patricia Rice
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use your head instead of your temper.” Bell
pointed at a seat near the table.
Syd flung herself into the chair with the grace of an angry
bear and snatched a raspberry tart from the tray. Blessedly, she held her
tongue and waited.
“Daddy’s will left all of you as wards to the marquess of
Belden,” Bell said, gathering her thoughts to present her case. “He could not
leave you to me because women are not recognized by courts of law, but I’m
certain he meant for you to live with me.”
The girls nodded agreement. Tess added, “He often spoke of
how you lived in a grand house and would always take us in, but he could never
save the funds to send us.”
Because he knew Edward would pitch a fit, call in the earl’s
markers, and have him thrown in prison, but Bell wouldn’t spoil their fond
memories. “That’s all behind us. The present has its own complications. Daddy
thought my husband was still alive. Unfortunately, he isn’t, and the title has
gone to his heir. Because the will specifies that you are wards of the
marquess, the current one has the right to direct your futures until such time
as you turn twenty-five, or you marry, and your husband becomes your legal
representative.”
Tess raised her eyebrows and her teacup. Syd remained
mercifully silent, helping herself to another tart.
“The current marquess has . . .” Bell wanted
to say ordered but she was trying
very hard to be objective in case she lost this fight. She didn’t want her
sisters to hate their benefactor. “He has requested that Tess and Beebee meet
his family and live with him. He has several unmarried sons and nephews, I
believe, and he knows I’ll dower you handsomely, so he is no doubt hoping that
you will become part of his family. They are quite respectable but poor.”
Tess looked mildly interested. “If they all look like the
gentleman who collared Kit, that might be interesting. He was a bit old,
though. Are there younger sons?”
Bell bit her tongue and continued to be as fair as she knew
how. “Lord Quentin is thirty-five. The youngest might be thirty. I don’t know
the nephews. They live in Scotland and never come to London. They farm.”
Tess frowned. “We haven’t lived in the country since we left
Ireland. Is there a town like Boston nearby?”
“I fear not. As I understand it, their home is in the hills
and quite isolated. Scotland does not have the green pastures of Ireland but
cold rocks and gorse. You won’t be able to raise horses. Sheep and cattle,
perhaps.” Swallowing, Bell hurried to finish. “The marquess wants Syd to attend
school. It would be good for her, I’ll agree, but—”
“I don’t need any more school,” Syd argued, interrupting.
“I’m old enough for parties and beaux.”
“You’re an ignorant colonial bumpkin to these people,” Tess
said bluntly. “You need polish.”
“You need friends,” Bell corrected. “Getting about in
society is all about who you know. I can’t introduce you to the young ladies
who will come out at the same time as you do. They’re all still at home and not
yet out for me to meet. But I can find out what schools they attend. Except,
the marquess wishes you to attend the same school as his daughters in
Edinburgh, and I fear they’ve become blue stockings because of it.”
“Edinburgh?” Syd asked warily.
“Several very uncomfortable days’ journey from here, in
Scotland. You would have to spend the holidays with the marquess. It’s not a journey
young girls should undertake regularly.”
Now both Syd and Tess looked horrified.
“We couldn’t stay with you at all?” Tess asked.
“I could come visit occasionally, I suppose. You really
don’t know me much better than the Hoyts. It might all work out.” She couldn’t
sound cheerful, but she strived not to sound skeptical. The Hoyts were pragmatic,
educated, and managing sorts. Boyles . . . were the exact
opposite, with charismatic, colorful, and tempestuous thrown in for
pointed at a seat near the table.
Syd flung herself into the chair with the grace of an angry
bear and snatched a raspberry tart from the tray. Blessedly, she held her
tongue and waited.
“Daddy’s will left all of you as wards to the marquess of
Belden,” Bell said, gathering her thoughts to present her case. “He could not
leave you to me because women are not recognized by courts of law, but I’m
certain he meant for you to live with me.”
The girls nodded agreement. Tess added, “He often spoke of
how you lived in a grand house and would always take us in, but he could never
save the funds to send us.”
Because he knew Edward would pitch a fit, call in the earl’s
markers, and have him thrown in prison, but Bell wouldn’t spoil their fond
memories. “That’s all behind us. The present has its own complications. Daddy
thought my husband was still alive. Unfortunately, he isn’t, and the title has
gone to his heir. Because the will specifies that you are wards of the
marquess, the current one has the right to direct your futures until such time
as you turn twenty-five, or you marry, and your husband becomes your legal
representative.”
Tess raised her eyebrows and her teacup. Syd remained
mercifully silent, helping herself to another tart.
“The current marquess has . . .” Bell wanted
to say ordered but she was trying
very hard to be objective in case she lost this fight. She didn’t want her
sisters to hate their benefactor. “He has requested that Tess and Beebee meet
his family and live with him. He has several unmarried sons and nephews, I
believe, and he knows I’ll dower you handsomely, so he is no doubt hoping that
you will become part of his family. They are quite respectable but poor.”
Tess looked mildly interested. “If they all look like the
gentleman who collared Kit, that might be interesting. He was a bit old,
though. Are there younger sons?”
Bell bit her tongue and continued to be as fair as she knew
how. “Lord Quentin is thirty-five. The youngest might be thirty. I don’t know
the nephews. They live in Scotland and never come to London. They farm.”
Tess frowned. “We haven’t lived in the country since we left
Ireland. Is there a town like Boston nearby?”
“I fear not. As I understand it, their home is in the hills
and quite isolated. Scotland does not have the green pastures of Ireland but
cold rocks and gorse. You won’t be able to raise horses. Sheep and cattle,
perhaps.” Swallowing, Bell hurried to finish. “The marquess wants Syd to attend
school. It would be good for her, I’ll agree, but—”
“I don’t need any more school,” Syd argued, interrupting.
“I’m old enough for parties and beaux.”
“You’re an ignorant colonial bumpkin to these people,” Tess
said bluntly. “You need polish.”
“You need friends,” Bell corrected. “Getting about in
society is all about who you know. I can’t introduce you to the young ladies
who will come out at the same time as you do. They’re all still at home and not
yet out for me to meet. But I can find out what schools they attend. Except,
the marquess wishes you to attend the same school as his daughters in
Edinburgh, and I fear they’ve become blue stockings because of it.”
“Edinburgh?” Syd asked warily.
“Several very uncomfortable days’ journey from here, in
Scotland. You would have to spend the holidays with the marquess. It’s not a journey
young girls should undertake regularly.”
Now both Syd and Tess looked horrified.
“We couldn’t stay with you at all?” Tess asked.
“I could come visit occasionally, I suppose. You really
don’t know me much better than the Hoyts. It might all work out.” She couldn’t
sound cheerful, but she strived not to sound skeptical. The Hoyts were pragmatic,
educated, and managing sorts. Boyles . . . were the exact
opposite, with charismatic, colorful, and tempestuous thrown in for
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