Read Online Miss Watson's First Scandal (A Miss Mayhem Novella) by Heather Boyd - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Heather Boyd
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into doing what she wanted. He did exactly as he pleased. “David Hawke is not like that.”
“Hawke is exactly like that. So is your brother, by the way. Men each have desires that drive them and those needs can be fulfilled if you are brave enough to tempt them the right way. However, you must be careful because marriage is not at the forefront of their thinking. Everything else decadent is.”
“Imogen,” Abigail began with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Had Imogen gone too far and been ruined? Was that why her opinion of men was so low? “Have you ever been very brave when it comes to men?”
“In my opinion, a lady should never admit to her own ruin.” Imogen stared out to sea, her gaze thoughtful and serious. “However, the answer is no. I’ve never found a man who could tempt me to throw my principles aside so completely for the sake of a little passion. Mind you, I’m not adverse to the idea where there is love involved. Yet circumstances and my nature make me doubt I could ever be so foolish as to trust my heart to any man unless it was for the deepest bonds of affection.”
CHAPTER TEN
David leaned back in his chair, listening to the familiar tick of the ormolu mantle clock and the silence of his Brighton house. The stillness bothered him a great deal today. He’d gone out earlier to visit Mrs. Wiggins, an old acquaintance of his mother’s, to offer his condolences on her husband’s death. But their time together had only reminded him of the barren emptiness of his home life. During his visit, Mrs. Wiggins’ two daughters had called, young ones clinging to their skirts.
Her questions about his solitary state and lack of children had been excruciatingly direct. He’d actually blushed and stammered like a younger man would when embarrassed because the image of a likely wife and children were remarkably like Abigail Watson in appearance. It didn’t help that Mrs. Wiggins had mentioned Abigail in passing at least a dozen times. He’d had no idea his neighbor had become fast friends with the woman.
Since his return, he’d given in to the urge to check he was alone in the house, and not about to be besieged by Abigail. It was ridiculous to think she might come back. Although he hoped she would not risk her reputation again just to speak to him, a part of him looked forward to it. He would see her at dinner tonight, with actual chaperones this time, but he had no further insights to share on how to make Peter Watson—or any man—propose marriage to a woman if he didn’t want her for his wife.
He tucked away his folder of notes, the topmost of which was Miss George’s banking statement, disturbed by his lack of focus. He’d meet with Miss George and her brother tomorrow afternoon, well ahead of his departure for London, and hopefully discuss investment opportunities for the next year. Miss George should be pleased with the state of her investments. However, after the Watsons were served with their notice, he had doubts he’d remain as banker to the Georges.
However much as it tickled him to know Miss George was the celebrated and much read author, K.L. Brahms, as a customer of his bank, she surely wouldn’t remain so. A pity. Miss George’s writing really was wonderful and he enjoyed getting his hands on each new story before anyone else. Aside from him, and her editor, she demanded the matter was to be kept secret. He’d not even shared the real identity of K.L. Brahms with his business partner and he hoped whoever replaced him would share the same scruples of discretion. Society would be scandalized to know the darling of literary circles was not in fact a man but a very young spinster.
David picked up the tea tray, deposited it in the kitchen, and then strolled out of the house to look up at the sky. The day hadn’t turned out particularly pleasant. Grey clouds clustered above him so he couldn’t venture too far from home without risking becoming
“Hawke is exactly like that. So is your brother, by the way. Men each have desires that drive them and those needs can be fulfilled if you are brave enough to tempt them the right way. However, you must be careful because marriage is not at the forefront of their thinking. Everything else decadent is.”
“Imogen,” Abigail began with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Had Imogen gone too far and been ruined? Was that why her opinion of men was so low? “Have you ever been very brave when it comes to men?”
“In my opinion, a lady should never admit to her own ruin.” Imogen stared out to sea, her gaze thoughtful and serious. “However, the answer is no. I’ve never found a man who could tempt me to throw my principles aside so completely for the sake of a little passion. Mind you, I’m not adverse to the idea where there is love involved. Yet circumstances and my nature make me doubt I could ever be so foolish as to trust my heart to any man unless it was for the deepest bonds of affection.”
CHAPTER TEN
David leaned back in his chair, listening to the familiar tick of the ormolu mantle clock and the silence of his Brighton house. The stillness bothered him a great deal today. He’d gone out earlier to visit Mrs. Wiggins, an old acquaintance of his mother’s, to offer his condolences on her husband’s death. But their time together had only reminded him of the barren emptiness of his home life. During his visit, Mrs. Wiggins’ two daughters had called, young ones clinging to their skirts.
Her questions about his solitary state and lack of children had been excruciatingly direct. He’d actually blushed and stammered like a younger man would when embarrassed because the image of a likely wife and children were remarkably like Abigail Watson in appearance. It didn’t help that Mrs. Wiggins had mentioned Abigail in passing at least a dozen times. He’d had no idea his neighbor had become fast friends with the woman.
Since his return, he’d given in to the urge to check he was alone in the house, and not about to be besieged by Abigail. It was ridiculous to think she might come back. Although he hoped she would not risk her reputation again just to speak to him, a part of him looked forward to it. He would see her at dinner tonight, with actual chaperones this time, but he had no further insights to share on how to make Peter Watson—or any man—propose marriage to a woman if he didn’t want her for his wife.
He tucked away his folder of notes, the topmost of which was Miss George’s banking statement, disturbed by his lack of focus. He’d meet with Miss George and her brother tomorrow afternoon, well ahead of his departure for London, and hopefully discuss investment opportunities for the next year. Miss George should be pleased with the state of her investments. However, after the Watsons were served with their notice, he had doubts he’d remain as banker to the Georges.
However much as it tickled him to know Miss George was the celebrated and much read author, K.L. Brahms, as a customer of his bank, she surely wouldn’t remain so. A pity. Miss George’s writing really was wonderful and he enjoyed getting his hands on each new story before anyone else. Aside from him, and her editor, she demanded the matter was to be kept secret. He’d not even shared the real identity of K.L. Brahms with his business partner and he hoped whoever replaced him would share the same scruples of discretion. Society would be scandalized to know the darling of literary circles was not in fact a man but a very young spinster.
David picked up the tea tray, deposited it in the kitchen, and then strolled out of the house to look up at the sky. The day hadn’t turned out particularly pleasant. Grey clouds clustered above him so he couldn’t venture too far from home without risking becoming
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