Read Online Miss Mischief - A Regency Romance by Kate Harper - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kate Harper
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a peer might be traversing the byways hip deep in mud. Clearly, he had not thought that the dirty fellow who had returned his daughter to him would be a lord.
‘Is that so? Well, well, now. I’m sure it’s very good to meet you, Hathaway. Ah… are you visiting family in the area?’
‘No, Sir Antony. Just traveling through.’
‘I see,’ the man said, although clearly he didn’t. Turning, he led Marcus to the little old lady dressed from head to toe in the black silk crepe of a mourning gown. Her hair was as silver as the teapot before her but there was no denying the sharp intelligence in her bird-bright black eyes. She looked him over thoroughly. It was difficult to judge if she approved of what she saw but at least she didn’t look too unkindly by this new arrival.
‘So you’re the lad that fetched Johanna home,’ she said, nodding her head to the empty chair beside her that had been occupied by Sir Antony. Marcus deduced that he was to sit and he did so, offering a vague smile to the others who were loosely gathered around the table. Introductions needed to be made but clearly, the little woman was presiding over the affair and would direct proceedings as she saw fit. Sir Antony stood watching, eyeing his mother rather as a mouse might eye a cat. There was certainly a nervous gleam in his eyes.
‘I am indeed. Marcus Hathaway, at your service Ma’am.’ He gave her a half bow, restricted in this movement by the fact he was in a chair.
‘How de do,’ she returned. ‘I am Katherine Howeth, Mrs. Howeth to you, young man. Johanna is my granddaughter and a handful she is, to be sure. Not that I don’t like high spirits in the young and she’s got a good heart in her. Can’t abide these prissy young things but the lass is a cracker. Isn’t that right, Antony?’
‘Yes, Mother,’ Sir Antony agreed glumly. ‘Johanna is certainly headstrong. If only her mother had survived -’
‘Oh, enough of that blather,’ the woman said impatiently. ‘Our Oliue would ha’ no more luck than anyone else in teaching the child to mind. Soft as soap, she was.’ The black eyes shifted to Marcus once again. ‘Not that the lass isn’t fair enough; there’s no gainsaying that. What say you, your lordship? Have you ever seen a girl prettier than my Johanna?’
He stared at the woman, taken aback. She was certainly an interesting character and her voice indicated that her origins were not those of her son. Or son-in-law? Whatever the case, there was no doubt that she was the grande dame of the family. Marcus was mildly intrigued for the house and its occupants were as gentrified as he had been expecting and yet this lady was anything but. Not that this would be the first family that could lay claim to what his estimable peers liked to refer to as ‘trade.’ They might curl their lips at such people but there were plenty that weren’t too proud to accept the money that such class mergers usually brought in.
‘Well?’ she demanded impatiently after a moment. ‘She’s a diamond, wouldn’t you say?’
It was quickly becoming obvious that Mrs. Howeth was all for brazen honesty, a little too much so if the looks on the other guests’ faces were any indication. He glanced around the table and it was immediately obvious his fellow guests were finding this conversation equally uncomfortable. Along with the lovelorn James and the fair-haired duo that had greeted his arrival, there was a middle-aged lady in fawn velvet and a younger female bedecked in an alarming quantity of apricot cambric and lace – the mother and sister of James, that had come to take tea.
Marcus looked back at his hostess. ‘Well I’m sure that she -’ He was spared more by a soft, amused voice behind him.
‘That’s hardly a fair question to ask a gentleman, Grandma. What can he possibly do but agree? If the poor man finds my looks not to his taste, he is honor bound to pretend otherwise. Although perhaps our guest does not scruple to
‘Is that so? Well, well, now. I’m sure it’s very good to meet you, Hathaway. Ah… are you visiting family in the area?’
‘No, Sir Antony. Just traveling through.’
‘I see,’ the man said, although clearly he didn’t. Turning, he led Marcus to the little old lady dressed from head to toe in the black silk crepe of a mourning gown. Her hair was as silver as the teapot before her but there was no denying the sharp intelligence in her bird-bright black eyes. She looked him over thoroughly. It was difficult to judge if she approved of what she saw but at least she didn’t look too unkindly by this new arrival.
‘So you’re the lad that fetched Johanna home,’ she said, nodding her head to the empty chair beside her that had been occupied by Sir Antony. Marcus deduced that he was to sit and he did so, offering a vague smile to the others who were loosely gathered around the table. Introductions needed to be made but clearly, the little woman was presiding over the affair and would direct proceedings as she saw fit. Sir Antony stood watching, eyeing his mother rather as a mouse might eye a cat. There was certainly a nervous gleam in his eyes.
‘I am indeed. Marcus Hathaway, at your service Ma’am.’ He gave her a half bow, restricted in this movement by the fact he was in a chair.
‘How de do,’ she returned. ‘I am Katherine Howeth, Mrs. Howeth to you, young man. Johanna is my granddaughter and a handful she is, to be sure. Not that I don’t like high spirits in the young and she’s got a good heart in her. Can’t abide these prissy young things but the lass is a cracker. Isn’t that right, Antony?’
‘Yes, Mother,’ Sir Antony agreed glumly. ‘Johanna is certainly headstrong. If only her mother had survived -’
‘Oh, enough of that blather,’ the woman said impatiently. ‘Our Oliue would ha’ no more luck than anyone else in teaching the child to mind. Soft as soap, she was.’ The black eyes shifted to Marcus once again. ‘Not that the lass isn’t fair enough; there’s no gainsaying that. What say you, your lordship? Have you ever seen a girl prettier than my Johanna?’
He stared at the woman, taken aback. She was certainly an interesting character and her voice indicated that her origins were not those of her son. Or son-in-law? Whatever the case, there was no doubt that she was the grande dame of the family. Marcus was mildly intrigued for the house and its occupants were as gentrified as he had been expecting and yet this lady was anything but. Not that this would be the first family that could lay claim to what his estimable peers liked to refer to as ‘trade.’ They might curl their lips at such people but there were plenty that weren’t too proud to accept the money that such class mergers usually brought in.
‘Well?’ she demanded impatiently after a moment. ‘She’s a diamond, wouldn’t you say?’
It was quickly becoming obvious that Mrs. Howeth was all for brazen honesty, a little too much so if the looks on the other guests’ faces were any indication. He glanced around the table and it was immediately obvious his fellow guests were finding this conversation equally uncomfortable. Along with the lovelorn James and the fair-haired duo that had greeted his arrival, there was a middle-aged lady in fawn velvet and a younger female bedecked in an alarming quantity of apricot cambric and lace – the mother and sister of James, that had come to take tea.
Marcus looked back at his hostess. ‘Well I’m sure that she -’ He was spared more by a soft, amused voice behind him.
‘That’s hardly a fair question to ask a gentleman, Grandma. What can he possibly do but agree? If the poor man finds my looks not to his taste, he is honor bound to pretend otherwise. Although perhaps our guest does not scruple to
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