Read Online It Takes a Hero by Elizabeth Boyle - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Boyle
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matchmaking."
"Misguided?" She fluffed her napkin and settled it back down on her lap. "I'll have you know that there is an immeasurable number of couples in England who count their happiness as a direct result of my 'misguided matchmaking.' "
"And how many more that wished your unsolicited advice had gone astray?" he countered.
Mrs. Radleigh's napkin was back up at her lips.
"Bah!" Lady Finch told him. "Lady Victoria may likely be our author."
"Victoria? I think not," Jemmy said. "I would be more inclined to think it is Mrs. Radleigh than Kirkwood's daughter."
All eyes turned to Lady Finch's secretary.
"Me?" she said. "I hardly think so."
"You lived in India," Jemmy said. "And your husband was in the military. And you are always writing."
"Letters for your mother," she countered. "When would I have the time to compose novels?"
"True enough," Jemmy conceded, then winked broadly at the rest of the diners.
Lord Finch nodded to Addison. The butler filled the baron's wineglass. "If you are going to include all the likely suspects, you'd best invite Colonel Posthill and Miss Tate."
"Miss Tate?" Rafe asked, his ears perking up at the familiar name. "Miss Rebecca Tate?"
Jemmy's eyes narrowed. "You know Bex?"
"Bex?" he asked.
"Miss Tate. Bex is what the colonel calls her."
"Is she an infuriating minx with red hair?"
Jemmy laughed. "You've met our Bex," he said, before his gaze narrowed. "You've wasted little time if you've already made the lady's acquaintance."
"She was at the Post Office this afternoon when I made inquiries there."
"Isn't she the one who led you on that merry chase through the graveyard?" Cochrane interjected.
Curious looks broke out around the table.
Rafe shot Cochrane a dire look meant to tell the young man this might be his last meal.
"Never mind," Cochrane said, happily digging into the plate of beef Addison was offering.
"Fetching, isn't she?" Jemmy was saying. "But be warned, better to invite her up here than to try calling on her. The Colonel is apt to send you to an early grave if you arrive unannounced on one of his off days."
"Off?" Rafe asked.
"He's a bit daft," Jemmy said. "Likes to keep a Brown Bess at the ready, in case of invasion and all. Even bought a cannon and had it fixed in his garden pointed toward France. Fires it off periodically just to keep the enemy in check, or so he likes to say. The fellow refuses to believe that Bramley Hollow isn't on the verge of being overrun."
Lady Finch motioned for one of the footmen to remove her plate. "The poor colonel took a fever a few years ago and hasn't been the same since," She folded her napkin and placed it on the table. "He is a distant cousin of Lord Finch and when the poor man returned to England, and under rather difficult circumstances, we offered him the use of the Bramley cottage."
"And Miss Tate?" Rafe asked purely out of professional curiosity. Fetching though she might be, she'd led him on a merry chase and that he didn't appreciate. Besides, he still hadn't shaken his suspicions about her—or that first heart-stopping glance she'd shot at him over her shoulder, with the same deadly accuracy as a French sniper. Oh, there was more to the lady than just a spinster with a wry sense of humor. "Who is she?"
"His niece," Lady Finch said. "On his late wife's side. Miss Tate and her brother Richard used to live here in Bramley Hollow when they were children. Her father fancied himself something of a treasure hunter, but he never found a blessed thing. Rather, he ran through nearly every penny they had chasing myths, until he beggared them completely trying to get the entire family to India after some nonsense or another. As luck would have it, both he and Mrs. Tate died on the passage. Fortunately, the colonel and his wife took the children in when they arrived in Calcutta."
Jemmy leaned forward. "I doubt Bex is your author, what with the colonel's illness and all. He's mad as a lark most of the time. He's run them
"Misguided?" She fluffed her napkin and settled it back down on her lap. "I'll have you know that there is an immeasurable number of couples in England who count their happiness as a direct result of my 'misguided matchmaking.' "
"And how many more that wished your unsolicited advice had gone astray?" he countered.
Mrs. Radleigh's napkin was back up at her lips.
"Bah!" Lady Finch told him. "Lady Victoria may likely be our author."
"Victoria? I think not," Jemmy said. "I would be more inclined to think it is Mrs. Radleigh than Kirkwood's daughter."
All eyes turned to Lady Finch's secretary.
"Me?" she said. "I hardly think so."
"You lived in India," Jemmy said. "And your husband was in the military. And you are always writing."
"Letters for your mother," she countered. "When would I have the time to compose novels?"
"True enough," Jemmy conceded, then winked broadly at the rest of the diners.
Lord Finch nodded to Addison. The butler filled the baron's wineglass. "If you are going to include all the likely suspects, you'd best invite Colonel Posthill and Miss Tate."
"Miss Tate?" Rafe asked, his ears perking up at the familiar name. "Miss Rebecca Tate?"
Jemmy's eyes narrowed. "You know Bex?"
"Bex?" he asked.
"Miss Tate. Bex is what the colonel calls her."
"Is she an infuriating minx with red hair?"
Jemmy laughed. "You've met our Bex," he said, before his gaze narrowed. "You've wasted little time if you've already made the lady's acquaintance."
"She was at the Post Office this afternoon when I made inquiries there."
"Isn't she the one who led you on that merry chase through the graveyard?" Cochrane interjected.
Curious looks broke out around the table.
Rafe shot Cochrane a dire look meant to tell the young man this might be his last meal.
"Never mind," Cochrane said, happily digging into the plate of beef Addison was offering.
"Fetching, isn't she?" Jemmy was saying. "But be warned, better to invite her up here than to try calling on her. The Colonel is apt to send you to an early grave if you arrive unannounced on one of his off days."
"Off?" Rafe asked.
"He's a bit daft," Jemmy said. "Likes to keep a Brown Bess at the ready, in case of invasion and all. Even bought a cannon and had it fixed in his garden pointed toward France. Fires it off periodically just to keep the enemy in check, or so he likes to say. The fellow refuses to believe that Bramley Hollow isn't on the verge of being overrun."
Lady Finch motioned for one of the footmen to remove her plate. "The poor colonel took a fever a few years ago and hasn't been the same since," She folded her napkin and placed it on the table. "He is a distant cousin of Lord Finch and when the poor man returned to England, and under rather difficult circumstances, we offered him the use of the Bramley cottage."
"And Miss Tate?" Rafe asked purely out of professional curiosity. Fetching though she might be, she'd led him on a merry chase and that he didn't appreciate. Besides, he still hadn't shaken his suspicions about her—or that first heart-stopping glance she'd shot at him over her shoulder, with the same deadly accuracy as a French sniper. Oh, there was more to the lady than just a spinster with a wry sense of humor. "Who is she?"
"His niece," Lady Finch said. "On his late wife's side. Miss Tate and her brother Richard used to live here in Bramley Hollow when they were children. Her father fancied himself something of a treasure hunter, but he never found a blessed thing. Rather, he ran through nearly every penny they had chasing myths, until he beggared them completely trying to get the entire family to India after some nonsense or another. As luck would have it, both he and Mrs. Tate died on the passage. Fortunately, the colonel and his wife took the children in when they arrived in Calcutta."
Jemmy leaned forward. "I doubt Bex is your author, what with the colonel's illness and all. He's mad as a lark most of the time. He's run them
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