gaze distant as he remembered. He focused on Anne again.
“He returned me to the duchess later that day with no explanation for her. I was on bread and water for a week for giving her such a fright.”
Brett was fascinated. Freddy didn’t talk much about his childhood. Brett had always had the impression it was not a happy one. Bertie had told him that Freddy was coddled and suffocated by their mother. Bertie had often lamented that she would never let Freddy grow up. In Brett’s own experiences with her he could see that Bertie had been right. Freddy was growing up against her wishes, and she didn’t like it one bit.
“Yes, Freddy, I remember,” Anne said. “He told us all about it at dinner that night.
That was one of the last times you were at the Park for any length of time. It was so rare to get a chance to see you or talk to you in those days. We were always hungry for news of you.”
Freddy reared back in surprise. “Were you? How odd, to be the subject of such interest. The Park and the parsonage were like two different worlds in those days.” He smiled with his usual devil-may-care attitude. “Well, I am here now to satisfy your hunger, my dear. Whatever you wish to know, I shall endeavor to enlighten you.”
Anne raised sardonic brows. “Will you now?” She sniffed and smiled. “I think I prefer to find out gradually, Your Grace. Too much information at once might overwhelm me.”
36
Retreat From Love
Freddy laughed as Mr. Howard and Mrs. Northcott looked on, perplexed. Brett realized that the underlying meaning of their conversation was becoming, if not apparent, at least suspected.
“Esme,” Brett asked loudly, “have you chosen yet?” He turned to her brother. “And Bastian? Would you care for some candy?”
“Yes, yes,” Freddy said, moving over to the children. “Pick as much as you like. As the duke here it is my job to buy candy for everyone when I come to the village.”
Bastian wrinkled his nose. “That seems a bit backward to me, Your Grace. Isn’t it polite for people to buy you things when you come, as a welcome gift?”
Freddy looked properly horrified. “Why whatever for? As if I have need of
anything!” He shook his head vehemently as he pointed at the candy Esme was eyeing and nodded at Mr. Howard. Mr. Howard immediately put a generous amount in a paper wrapper for her. “No, no. My tastes are too particular, I’m afraid, to blithely accept just any gift. Much better to give than to receive.” He pointed at several other items and Mr. Howard dutifully wrapped them up. Then Freddy turned to Anne.
“Miss Goode, did you have anything else you needed while we’re here?”
At his question Anne flushed and nervously fingered her reticule. “I, ah, no, Your Grace, no, not a thing.”
Freddy looked puzzled. “Then might I inquire as to why you came over?”
“Ah…”Anne was stammering. Mr. Howard interrupted.
“You said you had a list, Miss Anne,” he insisted. “I can fill it for you while you show the duke and Mr. Haversham around.” He looked smug at Anne’s consternation.
Freddy imperiously held out his hand. “Do give me the list for Mr. Howard, Anne.
Then we can be off.”
Anne reluctantly gave Freddy the list and he passed it to Mr. Howard without glancing at it. Mr. Howard looked down and read it quickly, and then glanced at Anne in shock.
“Sugar? Flour?”
Anne blushed. “Mrs. Tilton is going to make His Grace some shortbread, Mr.
Howard.”
“Ah,” Freddy said from where he was inspecting some combs and brushes. “Do put that on my account, Mr. Howard.” He gave Anne and the shopkeeper an absentminded smile and then turned back to the items he was inspecting. “Mrs. Tilton is making that for me.” He looked at himself in a hand mirror and adjusted his cravat. “And I do not plan to share it,” he added, distracted.
“Really, Your Grace,” Anne said in a rush, “there is no need.”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Northcott said
“He returned me to the duchess later that day with no explanation for her. I was on bread and water for a week for giving her such a fright.”
Brett was fascinated. Freddy didn’t talk much about his childhood. Brett had always had the impression it was not a happy one. Bertie had told him that Freddy was coddled and suffocated by their mother. Bertie had often lamented that she would never let Freddy grow up. In Brett’s own experiences with her he could see that Bertie had been right. Freddy was growing up against her wishes, and she didn’t like it one bit.
“Yes, Freddy, I remember,” Anne said. “He told us all about it at dinner that night.
That was one of the last times you were at the Park for any length of time. It was so rare to get a chance to see you or talk to you in those days. We were always hungry for news of you.”
Freddy reared back in surprise. “Were you? How odd, to be the subject of such interest. The Park and the parsonage were like two different worlds in those days.” He smiled with his usual devil-may-care attitude. “Well, I am here now to satisfy your hunger, my dear. Whatever you wish to know, I shall endeavor to enlighten you.”
Anne raised sardonic brows. “Will you now?” She sniffed and smiled. “I think I prefer to find out gradually, Your Grace. Too much information at once might overwhelm me.”
36
Retreat From Love
Freddy laughed as Mr. Howard and Mrs. Northcott looked on, perplexed. Brett realized that the underlying meaning of their conversation was becoming, if not apparent, at least suspected.
“Esme,” Brett asked loudly, “have you chosen yet?” He turned to her brother. “And Bastian? Would you care for some candy?”
“Yes, yes,” Freddy said, moving over to the children. “Pick as much as you like. As the duke here it is my job to buy candy for everyone when I come to the village.”
Bastian wrinkled his nose. “That seems a bit backward to me, Your Grace. Isn’t it polite for people to buy you things when you come, as a welcome gift?”
Freddy looked properly horrified. “Why whatever for? As if I have need of
anything!” He shook his head vehemently as he pointed at the candy Esme was eyeing and nodded at Mr. Howard. Mr. Howard immediately put a generous amount in a paper wrapper for her. “No, no. My tastes are too particular, I’m afraid, to blithely accept just any gift. Much better to give than to receive.” He pointed at several other items and Mr. Howard dutifully wrapped them up. Then Freddy turned to Anne.
“Miss Goode, did you have anything else you needed while we’re here?”
At his question Anne flushed and nervously fingered her reticule. “I, ah, no, Your Grace, no, not a thing.”
Freddy looked puzzled. “Then might I inquire as to why you came over?”
“Ah…”Anne was stammering. Mr. Howard interrupted.
“You said you had a list, Miss Anne,” he insisted. “I can fill it for you while you show the duke and Mr. Haversham around.” He looked smug at Anne’s consternation.
Freddy imperiously held out his hand. “Do give me the list for Mr. Howard, Anne.
Then we can be off.”
Anne reluctantly gave Freddy the list and he passed it to Mr. Howard without glancing at it. Mr. Howard looked down and read it quickly, and then glanced at Anne in shock.
“Sugar? Flour?”
Anne blushed. “Mrs. Tilton is going to make His Grace some shortbread, Mr.
Howard.”
“Ah,” Freddy said from where he was inspecting some combs and brushes. “Do put that on my account, Mr. Howard.” He gave Anne and the shopkeeper an absentminded smile and then turned back to the items he was inspecting. “Mrs. Tilton is making that for me.” He looked at himself in a hand mirror and adjusted his cravat. “And I do not plan to share it,” he added, distracted.
“Really, Your Grace,” Anne said in a rush, “there is no need.”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Northcott said
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