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Authors: Mary Jo Putney
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he saw that there was true beauty there for anyone with the eye to see it. Reminding himself to keep his mind on business, he said, "Was Lady Seaton as charming as she appears in the portrait?"
"When she was happy, the whole house glowed. And when she was sad…" Rebecca hesitated. "We all knew it."
"She was moody?"
Rebecca's face froze and she began moving toward the door. "Who isn't sometimes?"
He had touched some kind of nerve. He thought for a moment, wondering how to recover from his slip. Reluctantly he recognized that if he was to win Rebecca's trust, he would have to reveal something of himself. Quietly he said, "My mother died when I was sixteen. Nothing else has ever hurt as much."
Rebecca paused and swallowed hard. "It… it leaves an unfillable hole in one's life." She dosed her anguished eyes for a moment. "How did your mother die?"
"Slowly and painfully, of a wasting disease." A sharp memory of that terrible year struck him. He began straightening papers on his desk. Gruffly he said, "I've seen great courage in battle, but none greater than hers as she faced death."
While Kenneth resembled his fattier physically, in temperament he was very much Elizabeth Wilding's son. One of his first memories was of his mother's long, graceful fingers clasping his chubby hand as she guided him in writing his own name. It was from her that he had learned drawing and how to truly see the world around him.
Though her bluff husband had loved her in his way, he had been unable to deal with Elizabeth's slow dying. It was to her son that she had turned for comfort and support. Kenneth had been forced into adulthood that year. He and his small sister had drawn together in their grief, and the bond had never really been broken during his long years away.
The Gray Ghost gave a soft meow, which pulled Kenneth from his reverie. He realized that his unmoving hands rested on the piled papers in front of him. Uneasily he looked up and saw that Rebecca was regarding him with compassionate eyes.
His intention had been to show sympathy, not weakness. He got to his feet. "Your father explained about the daybook. Are the earlier ones kept here in the study? I thought it might help me understand the business better if I glanced through the last several years' worth."
"You'll have to ask Father. I'm not sure where he keeps them. Until dinner, Captain." She turned and left the study.
He watched her go, knowing that his first instinct had been correct: She was trouble.
Rebecca petted the Gray Ghost for comfort as she went downstairs to the kitchen. It had been upsetting to discuss her mother, and Captain Wilding's sorrow when he talked of his mother's death had triggered her own grief. Still, his sensitivity had shown an unexpected side of his character. For a moment, the stern army officer had revealed the boy he had been.
He was an intriguing puzzle. Her first impressions of him had included both harshness and intelligence. Those qualities were certainly part of him, but he was also tolerant and surprisingly philosophical. She had deliberately revealed her ruined reputation to see his reaction. To his credit, he had shown neither shock nor lewd speculation.
After feeding her cat, she headed purposefully up to her studio again. She had half an hour before she must dress for dinner. Time enough to try another sketch or two of the captain.
----
Chapter 6
As they had agreed beforehand, Kenneth visited Lord Bowden to make a report after his first week at Seaton House. He was promptly shown into Bowden's study. At Kenneth's entrance, Bowden set his newspaper aside and gestured for the visitor to take a seat. "Good day, Lord Kimball. What have you to report?"
Kenneth studied the older man's face. Having met Sir Anthony, he could see how strong the physical resemblance between the two men was. The same spare figure, the same medium height, the same chiseled facial bones. But Sir Anthony's vitality, his flashes of charm and
"When she was happy, the whole house glowed. And when she was sad…" Rebecca hesitated. "We all knew it."
"She was moody?"
Rebecca's face froze and she began moving toward the door. "Who isn't sometimes?"
He had touched some kind of nerve. He thought for a moment, wondering how to recover from his slip. Reluctantly he recognized that if he was to win Rebecca's trust, he would have to reveal something of himself. Quietly he said, "My mother died when I was sixteen. Nothing else has ever hurt as much."
Rebecca paused and swallowed hard. "It… it leaves an unfillable hole in one's life." She dosed her anguished eyes for a moment. "How did your mother die?"
"Slowly and painfully, of a wasting disease." A sharp memory of that terrible year struck him. He began straightening papers on his desk. Gruffly he said, "I've seen great courage in battle, but none greater than hers as she faced death."
While Kenneth resembled his fattier physically, in temperament he was very much Elizabeth Wilding's son. One of his first memories was of his mother's long, graceful fingers clasping his chubby hand as she guided him in writing his own name. It was from her that he had learned drawing and how to truly see the world around him.
Though her bluff husband had loved her in his way, he had been unable to deal with Elizabeth's slow dying. It was to her son that she had turned for comfort and support. Kenneth had been forced into adulthood that year. He and his small sister had drawn together in their grief, and the bond had never really been broken during his long years away.
The Gray Ghost gave a soft meow, which pulled Kenneth from his reverie. He realized that his unmoving hands rested on the piled papers in front of him. Uneasily he looked up and saw that Rebecca was regarding him with compassionate eyes.
His intention had been to show sympathy, not weakness. He got to his feet. "Your father explained about the daybook. Are the earlier ones kept here in the study? I thought it might help me understand the business better if I glanced through the last several years' worth."
"You'll have to ask Father. I'm not sure where he keeps them. Until dinner, Captain." She turned and left the study.
He watched her go, knowing that his first instinct had been correct: She was trouble.
Rebecca petted the Gray Ghost for comfort as she went downstairs to the kitchen. It had been upsetting to discuss her mother, and Captain Wilding's sorrow when he talked of his mother's death had triggered her own grief. Still, his sensitivity had shown an unexpected side of his character. For a moment, the stern army officer had revealed the boy he had been.
He was an intriguing puzzle. Her first impressions of him had included both harshness and intelligence. Those qualities were certainly part of him, but he was also tolerant and surprisingly philosophical. She had deliberately revealed her ruined reputation to see his reaction. To his credit, he had shown neither shock nor lewd speculation.
After feeding her cat, she headed purposefully up to her studio again. She had half an hour before she must dress for dinner. Time enough to try another sketch or two of the captain.
----
Chapter 6
As they had agreed beforehand, Kenneth visited Lord Bowden to make a report after his first week at Seaton House. He was promptly shown into Bowden's study. At Kenneth's entrance, Bowden set his newspaper aside and gestured for the visitor to take a seat. "Good day, Lord Kimball. What have you to report?"
Kenneth studied the older man's face. Having met Sir Anthony, he could see how strong the physical resemblance between the two men was. The same spare figure, the same medium height, the same chiseled facial bones. But Sir Anthony's vitality, his flashes of charm and
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