Read Online One Little Sin by Liz Carlyle - Free Book Online

flapping in the breeze, perambulators at the ready. He took the shortest route across the park’s expanse, but halfway along the path, a young girl with bouncing blond ringlets dashed out in front of him, her eyes intent on the pull toy she dragged behind.
    “Whoa!” said Alasdair, stopping abruptly.
    Startled, the child almost stumbled, but an astute servant swooped down and snatched the girl up. “Begging your pardon, sir,” she said, her face flushed. “The child was not watching where she was going.”
    Embarrassed, the girl clutched her pull toy and buried her head against her nanny’s neck. It was a touching, simple gesture. “No harm done, ma’am,” he murmured, removing his hat. “What is her name, pray?”
    The nanny’s eyes widened. “Why, ’tis Penelope, sir.”
    Alasdair looked round the woman’s shoulder. “Hello, Penelope. What have you there? Is it a dog?”
    “A horse,” said the child sulkily. “A brown horse.”
    “Has he a name?”
    “Apollo,” said the child.
    The poor nanny looked bewildered. She clearly was not accustomed to striking up conversations in the park with gentlemen who appeared to be unattached and childless. Time for the angelic smile, then. Alasdair flashed it, and the nanny’s eyes began to melt.
    Feeling more himself again, Alasdair poured on the charm. “What a beautiful child,” he said. “And she obviously adores you. It is quite touching, ma’am, to see how she clings to you. Have you been with her long?”
    “Why, all of her days, sir,” said the nanny. “And her brother before her.”
    She was shifting her weight as if she meant to walk away. Just then, Penelope began to squirm. The nanny set her down. “We’ll just be off, sir,” she said. “My apologies again.”
    Fully recovered, Penelope had dashed a few feet down the path, her horse spinning merrily behind her. “You are going in my direction,” said Alasdair to the servant. “Might I walk a little way with you?”
    She shot him an uncertain glance. “Yes, sir. I’m sure you may.”
    “I know very little of children,” he confessed, setting a pace in keeping with young Penelope. “How old is your charge, ma’am?”
    “Why, she’ll be six near Christmastime, sir.”
    “Ah,” said Alasdair. “She still seems quite small. Is she about the right size for her age?”
    The woman seemed to fluff up like an outraged hen. “Why, even a bit tallish, really.”
    “Indeed?” he murmured. “Has she a governess yet?”
    “Oh, to be sure, sir,” said the nanny. “But ’tis generally my job to take the children for walks and such.”
    “I see,” said Alasdair. “So a governess and a nurse?”
    “Aye, sir,” said the servant defensively. “’Tis a great deal o’ work raising a child.”
    Alasdair pondered that for a moment. “She speaks very well,” he said. “At what age do they begin to speak fluently?”
    “Mercy, sir, have you never been around children?”
    Alasdair smiled again. “A disgraceful shortcoming, to be sure,” he admitted. “I had a younger brother, but not by much.”
    “Well, by three they’re generally chattering like magpies,” said the servant. “Before that, there’s lots of babbling, much of it known only to them.”
    They continued their sedate promenade round the park, Penelope and Apollo in the lead, Alasdair and the nanny behind. The woman was gregarious enough, and Alasdair took the opportunity to ask all manner of questions about the mysteries of child rearing. She looked askance at him from time to time, but answered his queries thoroughly enough. Near the foot of St. James’s Street, he tipped his hat, thanked her, and set a swift pace up the street to White’s.
    He felt a bit like an idiot talking to a stranger—a servant—in the park. But he wanted to know, damn it. He needed to understand what was to come of this strange, unexpected turn his well-ordered life had just taken. And for reasons he could not quite explain, he did not