Read Online London's Perfect Scoundrel by Suzanne Enoch - Free Book Online
Authors: Suzanne Enoch
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away. Nosense in offending the Regent now, when he finally looked to have a chance to be orphanage-free. “It’s a talent, Your Majesty.”
“Would that more of us possessed it.”
As Saint left Carlton House and called for his horse, he reflected that his conversation with Prince George had actually gone more favorably than he’d anticipated. Considering that he was willing to pay for both the razing of the building and the planting of the park, a tentative “I’ll look into it” before he had to offer either was good news, indeed.
He turned Cassius toward Boodles’s for luncheon, and several minutes passed before he realized both that he seemed to be taking a roundabout route to reach his club, and that this particular direction was for a reason. With a slight scowl, he slowed before the white house on his left.
Ruddick House wasn’t large or grandiose by anyone’s definition, but the small garden appeared nicely kept, and the stable was full. Victor Ruddick’s business in India, conducted on the Marquis of Houton’s behalf, reportedly rendered the brother, sister, and mother a healthy income.
Rumor had it that Victor had recently developed some political ambitions, something that his uncle no doubt approved. Those ambitions explained Evelyn’s approach of Fatima last week—the look of distaste on Miss Ruddick’s face had been the most amusing part of the evening. He wondered how she would react if he went up and knocked on her front door.
That same door opened. Saint straightened, anticipation running through him. It was only the mother, though, dressed for some luncheon or other. He waitedin the shade of the elms that lined the far side of the street, but only a maid followed. No Evelyn Marie.
He had an appetite, and she’d definitely whetted his hunger. He’d probably been too forward with the delicate miss, and now she’d abandoned her orphanage project for a nunnery or something. Saint shrugged, turning Cassius back toward Pall Mall. If she didn’t appear at the board meeting the day after tomorrow, she wasn’t worth hunting, anyway. Even so, he couldn’t keep from looking over his shoulder at the house as he turned the corner. He could wait until Friday to find out. Anticipation appealed to him—as long as he could see it satisfied.
“I’m more familiar with lesson planning for already-educated females between the ages of twelve and eighteen,” the Duchess of Wycliffe said, leaning down to dangle a cookie in the direction of the nearest end table.
“Any assistance you could give me would be wonderful, Your Grace,” Evelyn returned, only half listening as the end table rocked.
“Emma, please,” the duchess said, grinning as she slid off her chair to kneel on the carpet, cookie still before her. “Crawling about on the floor doesn’t seem very regal.” She turned her attention to the unseen object of the cookie bribe. “Elizabeth, Mama can’t fit under there. Please come out.”
A giggle answered her.
Emma sighed. “This is because your papa told you that silly story about the magic faerie who lived in a cave, isn’t it?”
More giggling came from beneath the end table.
Straightening, Emma popped the cookie into her ownmouth. “Very well, the magic faerie’s papa can explain why she can’t live under the end table.”
A servant scratched on the door, and the duchess returned to her more elegant perch on her chair. “Did you find them, Beth?”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The maid set a short stack of papers and books on the table, and jumped at the subterranean giggle that erupted a moment later. “Dear me!”
“Please see if you can locate His Grace, Beth. Last I heard, he was in the billiards room with Lord Dare.”
The maid curtsied. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Evie sent a glance at Lucinda, who seemed to be enjoying her afternoon immensely. Miss Barrett, though, didn’t have to explain that she wanted to devise a plan to teach orphans to read. Nor did she have
“Would that more of us possessed it.”
As Saint left Carlton House and called for his horse, he reflected that his conversation with Prince George had actually gone more favorably than he’d anticipated. Considering that he was willing to pay for both the razing of the building and the planting of the park, a tentative “I’ll look into it” before he had to offer either was good news, indeed.
He turned Cassius toward Boodles’s for luncheon, and several minutes passed before he realized both that he seemed to be taking a roundabout route to reach his club, and that this particular direction was for a reason. With a slight scowl, he slowed before the white house on his left.
Ruddick House wasn’t large or grandiose by anyone’s definition, but the small garden appeared nicely kept, and the stable was full. Victor Ruddick’s business in India, conducted on the Marquis of Houton’s behalf, reportedly rendered the brother, sister, and mother a healthy income.
Rumor had it that Victor had recently developed some political ambitions, something that his uncle no doubt approved. Those ambitions explained Evelyn’s approach of Fatima last week—the look of distaste on Miss Ruddick’s face had been the most amusing part of the evening. He wondered how she would react if he went up and knocked on her front door.
That same door opened. Saint straightened, anticipation running through him. It was only the mother, though, dressed for some luncheon or other. He waitedin the shade of the elms that lined the far side of the street, but only a maid followed. No Evelyn Marie.
He had an appetite, and she’d definitely whetted his hunger. He’d probably been too forward with the delicate miss, and now she’d abandoned her orphanage project for a nunnery or something. Saint shrugged, turning Cassius back toward Pall Mall. If she didn’t appear at the board meeting the day after tomorrow, she wasn’t worth hunting, anyway. Even so, he couldn’t keep from looking over his shoulder at the house as he turned the corner. He could wait until Friday to find out. Anticipation appealed to him—as long as he could see it satisfied.
“I’m more familiar with lesson planning for already-educated females between the ages of twelve and eighteen,” the Duchess of Wycliffe said, leaning down to dangle a cookie in the direction of the nearest end table.
“Any assistance you could give me would be wonderful, Your Grace,” Evelyn returned, only half listening as the end table rocked.
“Emma, please,” the duchess said, grinning as she slid off her chair to kneel on the carpet, cookie still before her. “Crawling about on the floor doesn’t seem very regal.” She turned her attention to the unseen object of the cookie bribe. “Elizabeth, Mama can’t fit under there. Please come out.”
A giggle answered her.
Emma sighed. “This is because your papa told you that silly story about the magic faerie who lived in a cave, isn’t it?”
More giggling came from beneath the end table.
Straightening, Emma popped the cookie into her ownmouth. “Very well, the magic faerie’s papa can explain why she can’t live under the end table.”
A servant scratched on the door, and the duchess returned to her more elegant perch on her chair. “Did you find them, Beth?”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The maid set a short stack of papers and books on the table, and jumped at the subterranean giggle that erupted a moment later. “Dear me!”
“Please see if you can locate His Grace, Beth. Last I heard, he was in the billiards room with Lord Dare.”
The maid curtsied. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Evie sent a glance at Lucinda, who seemed to be enjoying her afternoon immensely. Miss Barrett, though, didn’t have to explain that she wanted to devise a plan to teach orphans to read. Nor did she have
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