Read Online The Haunting of Grey Cliffs by Nina Coombs Pykare - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nina Coombs Pykare
Tags: regency Gothic Romance
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continued. "So heavy." And he sent Edward a provoking look.
I sighed. It was easy to see that there was no love lost between the brothers. But I could hardly blame Edward for that. After the scandal he had suffered with his wife, he must be doubly wounded by his brother's indiscretions. And for the man to behave so callously toward his own children—
I turned to my husband and smiled. He finally was my husband, and much to my satisfaction. He smiled back at me, warmly, tenderly.
Robert snorted. "Perhaps I should leave you lovebirds to your billing and cooing."
Edward's expression hardened. 'That won't be necessary. Besides, I wish to have some words with you in private."
"Of course, brother dear."
I did not see how Robert could be so nonchalant. If Edward were glaring at me in that grim fashion, I knew I should be really alarmed.
But Edward was smiling at me. "I'll see you later, dear," he said, and bent to put a kiss on my brow. Then he straightened. "Come, Robert, let's go to the drawing room."
Chapter Seven
After my husband and his brother disappeared down the hall, I finished my tea and set out for the nursery. I had settled on a plan of attack—sometimes winning over a boy seemed rather like fighting a war. But the results were usually much better.
I pushed open the nursery door. The twins were at play upon the hearth, their lead soldiers battling with miniature troops of Napoleon.
Ned, however, stood across the room, gazing out the narrow window toward the stables.
"Good morning," I said, putting as much cheerfulness as I could into my voice.
"Morning, milady." Betty raised her head from her mending and nodded.
The twins looked up and smiled. "Good," said one. "Morning," said the other.
I returned their smiles. They seemed quite healthy in their outlook—Robert's children—perhaps it was just as well he had not spent much time with them. Such a man could be a bad influence.
Ned turned from the window, his eyes eager. "Did you—" He stopped himself. "Good morning, Hester."
"Good morning, Ned."
I saw the boy's mouth quiver slightly. He was anxious to know about the dog but obviously afraid to ask.
"Well," I said, smiling at them all. "I have a piece of good news."
Ned's face lit up, but he said nothing more.
"Ned, your father says you may bring Captain back to the nursery."
"Capital!" the twins cried in unison.
"He's mine!" Ned said fiercely, scowling at the twins. "All mine."
The twins exchanged a look, but kept silent.
"Of course the dog is yours," I agreed. "And you will want to bring him in soon, but perhaps you should wait till we've had our lessons."
The boy's face fell. "Of course," he said slowly, reluctantly. "Captain likes it outside."
"On the other hand," I went on, as though considering all the possibilities, "it might be useful to have him along with us."
All three of them stared at me, but it was Ned who echoed, "Along with us?"
"Yes," I said. "I thought we'd have our history lesson while we look for secret passageways and the priest hole you told me about."
The three of them gaped at me. Finally Ned asked, "You mean we're going to look for them? Really look for them?"
"Yes," I said. "It should be an interesting lesson. Of course we could stay in the classroom and just—"
The twins got to their feet, their make-believe battles forgotten. "Dogs're good." "At smelling things out," they observed in tandem.
"Maybe he can find something," Ned said, for once not disagreeing with the others.
I had no idea what the dog might find, but Ned was obviously eager to get the animal back into the castle. "Yes," he said, nodding. "He's good at sniffing things out. I'm sure he can help. I'll go get him."
He was halfway to the door before he stopped. "Can I?" he turned to ask, his eyes pleading.
"Yes, Ned. But come right back. We'll be ready."
When Ned returned short minutes later, the dog was at his heels—a nondescript black dog, stocky, medium-sized, greying at the muzzle.
I sighed. It was easy to see that there was no love lost between the brothers. But I could hardly blame Edward for that. After the scandal he had suffered with his wife, he must be doubly wounded by his brother's indiscretions. And for the man to behave so callously toward his own children—
I turned to my husband and smiled. He finally was my husband, and much to my satisfaction. He smiled back at me, warmly, tenderly.
Robert snorted. "Perhaps I should leave you lovebirds to your billing and cooing."
Edward's expression hardened. 'That won't be necessary. Besides, I wish to have some words with you in private."
"Of course, brother dear."
I did not see how Robert could be so nonchalant. If Edward were glaring at me in that grim fashion, I knew I should be really alarmed.
But Edward was smiling at me. "I'll see you later, dear," he said, and bent to put a kiss on my brow. Then he straightened. "Come, Robert, let's go to the drawing room."
Chapter Seven
After my husband and his brother disappeared down the hall, I finished my tea and set out for the nursery. I had settled on a plan of attack—sometimes winning over a boy seemed rather like fighting a war. But the results were usually much better.
I pushed open the nursery door. The twins were at play upon the hearth, their lead soldiers battling with miniature troops of Napoleon.
Ned, however, stood across the room, gazing out the narrow window toward the stables.
"Good morning," I said, putting as much cheerfulness as I could into my voice.
"Morning, milady." Betty raised her head from her mending and nodded.
The twins looked up and smiled. "Good," said one. "Morning," said the other.
I returned their smiles. They seemed quite healthy in their outlook—Robert's children—perhaps it was just as well he had not spent much time with them. Such a man could be a bad influence.
Ned turned from the window, his eyes eager. "Did you—" He stopped himself. "Good morning, Hester."
"Good morning, Ned."
I saw the boy's mouth quiver slightly. He was anxious to know about the dog but obviously afraid to ask.
"Well," I said, smiling at them all. "I have a piece of good news."
Ned's face lit up, but he said nothing more.
"Ned, your father says you may bring Captain back to the nursery."
"Capital!" the twins cried in unison.
"He's mine!" Ned said fiercely, scowling at the twins. "All mine."
The twins exchanged a look, but kept silent.
"Of course the dog is yours," I agreed. "And you will want to bring him in soon, but perhaps you should wait till we've had our lessons."
The boy's face fell. "Of course," he said slowly, reluctantly. "Captain likes it outside."
"On the other hand," I went on, as though considering all the possibilities, "it might be useful to have him along with us."
All three of them stared at me, but it was Ned who echoed, "Along with us?"
"Yes," I said. "I thought we'd have our history lesson while we look for secret passageways and the priest hole you told me about."
The three of them gaped at me. Finally Ned asked, "You mean we're going to look for them? Really look for them?"
"Yes," I said. "It should be an interesting lesson. Of course we could stay in the classroom and just—"
The twins got to their feet, their make-believe battles forgotten. "Dogs're good." "At smelling things out," they observed in tandem.
"Maybe he can find something," Ned said, for once not disagreeing with the others.
I had no idea what the dog might find, but Ned was obviously eager to get the animal back into the castle. "Yes," he said, nodding. "He's good at sniffing things out. I'm sure he can help. I'll go get him."
He was halfway to the door before he stopped. "Can I?" he turned to ask, his eyes pleading.
"Yes, Ned. But come right back. We'll be ready."
When Ned returned short minutes later, the dog was at his heels—a nondescript black dog, stocky, medium-sized, greying at the muzzle.
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