Read Online Love Birds of Regent's Park by Ruth J. Hartman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ruth J. Hartman
Ads: Link
attraction toward Oliver.
Because he’d certainly felt a tug of desire toward her. More than a tug. As if he was pulled off of his feet by a team of frightened horses.
Until he’ d met her at the Sanctuary, he hadn’t given a thought to his appearance when there. If he spotted someone he knew, he’d make himself scarce. No use giving the gossip mongers something to chew on.
“ Have you seen Oliver Shipley? He’s dressed as a pauper.”
“ A common worker.”
“ Do you suppose his father has lost their money? That Oliver must now work to support them?”
But when he’d seen Lucy, although her appearance sugg ested means, the pull to stand near her, speak to her, was so strong he’d not even thought about the consequences. He’d never had an instant attraction like that to anyone before. As much as it mystified him, he could not seem to be near her enough.
It was likely if he had introduced himself using his true surname, she’d recognize it. Using his mother’s maiden name of Barrow helped hide his identity. At least for a while. Someday, someone he knew would notice him at the Sanctuary and he might have to give up his beloved work there. Since decent society would think it improper for someone of his standing to lower himself to doing physical labor.
If Lucy only knew that his status and hers most likely resided on the same plane. Or his above hers.
But she mus t not know. Not now. Not yet.
Not until Oliver discovered whether or not the lovely woman had an interest in him as a person. And not only for his wealth.
He left his room and retraced his steps down the long stairway. Did Lucy also live in luxury? He’d always wanted for nothing. Was that her experience as well? Perhaps they would have much in common that way, but he wasn’t ready to disclose his current way of life yet.
He found his father where Kirby suggested. In the drawing room. Asleep. How odd that he was in there alone. Sleeping. Sitting up!
Stepping softly, Oliver crossed the room and bent over his father, who was in his favorite chair with his chin resting on his chest. His face was pale and his breathing ragged. Was the man ill? Alarmed, Oliver gently tapped him on the shoulder.
“ Father?”
No response. He leaned closer. His father was still breathing, wasn’t he?
“Father? Wake up.”
“Wh-what?” Snorting himself fully awake, his father frowned, peering up at him with washed-out blue eyes. “What are you about, Oliver? Scaring a man half out of his wits. Aren’t I allowed an afternoon nap?”
Oliver sat on the nearby settee and crossed his legs. His heart raced with the momentary shock of finding his father as he had. “Yes, of course. But it’s not your habit. Has never been. I was concerned you were—”
“ Were what? Not breathing?” A brief smile touched his mouth but soon vanished. “You can see I am indeed alive.”
“ Please don’t joke about such things.” He swallowed hard, trying to calm down.
“ No one lives forever, Oliver. We must all die. Some now. Some later.” He turned his head, glancing toward the far wall. “Which is why I wish you’d marry soon. You’ll need to—”
Oliver held up his hand, just as his father turned back and peered at him full in the eye. “Please. I know what you wish me to do. And I know why. But it concerns me, this sudden preoccupation you have with your health, Father. Is there something more to this than morbid curiosity?”
A pause.
A shrug.
“ Father? Is the preoccupation sudden, as I suggested? There is something, isn’t there?” What would he do if something happened to him? If he was seriously ill? Ready to…
His father drew a long, deep breath. When he released it, a slight shudder ran through him. When had that begun? Had Oliver been so preoccupied with his own life that he hadn’t noticed a change in his father’s health? Because surely this hadn’t happened overnight.
“ Son, I… the physician has told me I may not have…”
“
Because he’d certainly felt a tug of desire toward her. More than a tug. As if he was pulled off of his feet by a team of frightened horses.
Until he’ d met her at the Sanctuary, he hadn’t given a thought to his appearance when there. If he spotted someone he knew, he’d make himself scarce. No use giving the gossip mongers something to chew on.
“ Have you seen Oliver Shipley? He’s dressed as a pauper.”
“ A common worker.”
“ Do you suppose his father has lost their money? That Oliver must now work to support them?”
But when he’d seen Lucy, although her appearance sugg ested means, the pull to stand near her, speak to her, was so strong he’d not even thought about the consequences. He’d never had an instant attraction like that to anyone before. As much as it mystified him, he could not seem to be near her enough.
It was likely if he had introduced himself using his true surname, she’d recognize it. Using his mother’s maiden name of Barrow helped hide his identity. At least for a while. Someday, someone he knew would notice him at the Sanctuary and he might have to give up his beloved work there. Since decent society would think it improper for someone of his standing to lower himself to doing physical labor.
If Lucy only knew that his status and hers most likely resided on the same plane. Or his above hers.
But she mus t not know. Not now. Not yet.
Not until Oliver discovered whether or not the lovely woman had an interest in him as a person. And not only for his wealth.
He left his room and retraced his steps down the long stairway. Did Lucy also live in luxury? He’d always wanted for nothing. Was that her experience as well? Perhaps they would have much in common that way, but he wasn’t ready to disclose his current way of life yet.
He found his father where Kirby suggested. In the drawing room. Asleep. How odd that he was in there alone. Sleeping. Sitting up!
Stepping softly, Oliver crossed the room and bent over his father, who was in his favorite chair with his chin resting on his chest. His face was pale and his breathing ragged. Was the man ill? Alarmed, Oliver gently tapped him on the shoulder.
“ Father?”
No response. He leaned closer. His father was still breathing, wasn’t he?
“Father? Wake up.”
“Wh-what?” Snorting himself fully awake, his father frowned, peering up at him with washed-out blue eyes. “What are you about, Oliver? Scaring a man half out of his wits. Aren’t I allowed an afternoon nap?”
Oliver sat on the nearby settee and crossed his legs. His heart raced with the momentary shock of finding his father as he had. “Yes, of course. But it’s not your habit. Has never been. I was concerned you were—”
“ Were what? Not breathing?” A brief smile touched his mouth but soon vanished. “You can see I am indeed alive.”
“ Please don’t joke about such things.” He swallowed hard, trying to calm down.
“ No one lives forever, Oliver. We must all die. Some now. Some later.” He turned his head, glancing toward the far wall. “Which is why I wish you’d marry soon. You’ll need to—”
Oliver held up his hand, just as his father turned back and peered at him full in the eye. “Please. I know what you wish me to do. And I know why. But it concerns me, this sudden preoccupation you have with your health, Father. Is there something more to this than morbid curiosity?”
A pause.
A shrug.
“ Father? Is the preoccupation sudden, as I suggested? There is something, isn’t there?” What would he do if something happened to him? If he was seriously ill? Ready to…
His father drew a long, deep breath. When he released it, a slight shudder ran through him. When had that begun? Had Oliver been so preoccupied with his own life that he hadn’t noticed a change in his father’s health? Because surely this hadn’t happened overnight.
“ Son, I… the physician has told me I may not have…”
“
Similar Books
