Read Online Mrs. Drew Plays Her Hand by Carla Kelly - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carla Kelly
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porridge."
"I love it," he lied, perjuring his soul without a whimper. "Thank you for your kindness, Mrs. Drew. This is such a shocking intrusion."
She gave him that wide-eyed look. "Not in a vicar's household," she said. "We've sheltered many orphans of the storm who looked more weary than you. Good night then, my lord. If you need anything, why, you'll probably find it about where you would find it in your own house."
She closed the door behind her, and he smiled at her ingenuous reply. Still smiling, he looked under the bed, and laughed out loud. Sure enough, there was the chamber pot. You are a diplomat, madam, he decided as he shed his clothes and crawled gratefully between Mrs. Drew's warm sheets. They smelled wonderfully of lavender, too, and he relaxed and felt the tension leave his shoulders. You cannot imagine how weary this orphan is, he thought as he closed his eyes in sleep.
Chapter 5
He slept soundly and well, stirring only once when he dreamed that someone was pounding on his back. "Stop it, Threlkeld," he muttered, dreaming of his aide-de-camp, dead now this year and more at Waterloo, who used to wake him up for urgent messages with a thump to the kidneys. "Stop it," he murmured again, and dropped back into dreamless sleep. The bed was firm in all the right places, and he was warm for the first time since he had laid eyes on Northumberland in October.
When he woke finally, the sun was streaming in the window as though yesterday's snowstorm had been a bad dream. He lay comfortably on his side, drowsily gazing at the bare branches that tapped on the window glass, and imagining them full-leafed and green in summer. His back was deliriously warm and he started to close his eyes again.
They snapped open and he sucked in his breath. Who was that cuddled so close to him? He pulled the sheet up higher across his bare chest, looked over his shoulder, and found himself staring into a second pair of lovely brown eyes, round and wide open.
"Where did you put my mother?" she asked, sitting up and tucking her flannel nightgown down over her feet like a proper little lady.
She couldn't have been much over four, but as he smiled into her charming face, Lord Winn was delighted with her calm air of competency, so like her mother. You were certainly fashioned from the same mold, he thought as he tucked the blankets about his bare body and sat up in bed, propping the pillow behind him. I wouldn't have thought it possible.
But she was obviously waiting for an answer. In fact, she was getting a little impatient. She pursed her lips in wondrous imitation of her mother, then to his delight, sighed and laid her head on his blanketed thigh. "I wish you would tell me," she muttered, then closed her eyes again.
She was irresistible. I must remind myself that I do not care for children, he thought as he touched her curly hair tentatively, then rested his hand on her small shoulder. She sighed again and snuggled closer.
"No wonder I was so warm last night," he said softly. "My dear, I did not put your mother anywhere. In fact, do you wager?"
She looked at him with those big eyes and frowned. "I don't know what that is," she asked, her voice full of suspicion.
He grinned. "Of course you do not. You are a clergyman's daughter," he said quite matter-of-fact. "Well, I would be willing to lay down good money that your mother is going to come running in here any minute, looking for you. Can you reach my watch there on the night table?"
She sat up again and found his watch next to his reading spectacles, which she put on. He laughed out loud at the sight, and she peered at him over the top of the glasses. She held out the watch to him, but he shook his head.
"You open it, my dear. Can you tell the time?"
After a moment of concentration, with his glasses dangling on the end of her short nose, and her tongue between her teeth, she snapped open the watch, and held it up in triumph.
"Excellent! Now, do you know your numbers?"
She
"I love it," he lied, perjuring his soul without a whimper. "Thank you for your kindness, Mrs. Drew. This is such a shocking intrusion."
She gave him that wide-eyed look. "Not in a vicar's household," she said. "We've sheltered many orphans of the storm who looked more weary than you. Good night then, my lord. If you need anything, why, you'll probably find it about where you would find it in your own house."
She closed the door behind her, and he smiled at her ingenuous reply. Still smiling, he looked under the bed, and laughed out loud. Sure enough, there was the chamber pot. You are a diplomat, madam, he decided as he shed his clothes and crawled gratefully between Mrs. Drew's warm sheets. They smelled wonderfully of lavender, too, and he relaxed and felt the tension leave his shoulders. You cannot imagine how weary this orphan is, he thought as he closed his eyes in sleep.
Chapter 5
He slept soundly and well, stirring only once when he dreamed that someone was pounding on his back. "Stop it, Threlkeld," he muttered, dreaming of his aide-de-camp, dead now this year and more at Waterloo, who used to wake him up for urgent messages with a thump to the kidneys. "Stop it," he murmured again, and dropped back into dreamless sleep. The bed was firm in all the right places, and he was warm for the first time since he had laid eyes on Northumberland in October.
When he woke finally, the sun was streaming in the window as though yesterday's snowstorm had been a bad dream. He lay comfortably on his side, drowsily gazing at the bare branches that tapped on the window glass, and imagining them full-leafed and green in summer. His back was deliriously warm and he started to close his eyes again.
They snapped open and he sucked in his breath. Who was that cuddled so close to him? He pulled the sheet up higher across his bare chest, looked over his shoulder, and found himself staring into a second pair of lovely brown eyes, round and wide open.
"Where did you put my mother?" she asked, sitting up and tucking her flannel nightgown down over her feet like a proper little lady.
She couldn't have been much over four, but as he smiled into her charming face, Lord Winn was delighted with her calm air of competency, so like her mother. You were certainly fashioned from the same mold, he thought as he tucked the blankets about his bare body and sat up in bed, propping the pillow behind him. I wouldn't have thought it possible.
But she was obviously waiting for an answer. In fact, she was getting a little impatient. She pursed her lips in wondrous imitation of her mother, then to his delight, sighed and laid her head on his blanketed thigh. "I wish you would tell me," she muttered, then closed her eyes again.
She was irresistible. I must remind myself that I do not care for children, he thought as he touched her curly hair tentatively, then rested his hand on her small shoulder. She sighed again and snuggled closer.
"No wonder I was so warm last night," he said softly. "My dear, I did not put your mother anywhere. In fact, do you wager?"
She looked at him with those big eyes and frowned. "I don't know what that is," she asked, her voice full of suspicion.
He grinned. "Of course you do not. You are a clergyman's daughter," he said quite matter-of-fact. "Well, I would be willing to lay down good money that your mother is going to come running in here any minute, looking for you. Can you reach my watch there on the night table?"
She sat up again and found his watch next to his reading spectacles, which she put on. He laughed out loud at the sight, and she peered at him over the top of the glasses. She held out the watch to him, but he shook his head.
"You open it, my dear. Can you tell the time?"
After a moment of concentration, with his glasses dangling on the end of her short nose, and her tongue between her teeth, she snapped open the watch, and held it up in triumph.
"Excellent! Now, do you know your numbers?"
She
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