Read Online THE MAGIC TOUCH (Historical Romance) by PATRICIA KEYSON - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: PATRICIA KEYSON
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thought that her aunt and the maid must have finished sorting Uncle Eustace’s clothes by now. No one was in the room, just numerous piles of clothes. She was surprised when Stevenson entered along with one of the male servants.
“Lady Hope . I didn’t know anyone was in here.”
“It’s all right, Stevenson, I came to see if the task was completed or not.”
“As you can see my l ady, these bundles of clothing are being taken now.” He gave a nod to the servant who proceeded to collect up some of the bundles and leave the room with them. “That pile on the floor is the clothing Her Grace thought was unsuitable to pass on.”
“Thank you, Stevenson.” As soon as the butler had left the room she dived into the bundle and grabbed items one after the other holding them up to see how fitting they were. In her view most were perfectly useable. Having sorted an outfit for Richard she surreptitiously left the room telling herself she was doing nothing wrong. Back in her room she hid the clothes at the bottom of her trunk. Then, to calm herself, she sat at the escritoire and continued with her journal.
I don’t know what has come over me. I have behaved in a most unbecoming way. Scrabbling through clothes regarded as waste. Why did I do it? Because I wish to see Beaumont. If, after my attempt at playing the piano, he never wants to see me again I can at least view him from afar as Richard. What is it about him that makes my pulse quicken and cheeks pinken? I am ridiculous, I hardly know the man. But something, no everything, about him appeals – from his looks to his pursuits. When I next see Edna I will not tell her about the clothes I have taken. We will never speak of me dressing as a man again. But now I will dress as Richard and attempt to escape for a walk in one of the parks.
Hope felt comfortable in the clothes she had found and was pleased to have the watch tucked into the pocket of her waistcoat. It would ensure she was back in plenty of time and would not be missed. As her confidence increased she was able to enjoy all the sights and sounds of the street scenes around her. No longer did she hurry along, keeping her head down. She was certain no one would notice she was not what she seemed.
An enjoyable stroll in the weakening sunshine along the park’s paths round the pond, gave her a feeling of peace. But on approaching Aunt Constance’s house she was horrified to see Beaumont coming along the street in the opposite direction, clearly making his way to the front entrance. It was an unusual time to be making a social call uninvited. Her jauntiness ebbed and her legs turned to jelly. Looking down at her feet she tried not to falter and attempted to make her way past him without being seen. He stopped.
“Excuse me, it’s Monsieur Richard, n’est pas?”
“Non,” she squeaked, before hurrying towards the side of the building and the back entrance. Once inside she leant against the door and vowed never again to risk going out in gentlemen’s clothes. In her rooms she changed and stuffed the outfit in her trunk promising herself they would be returned to the pile later. Pacing the floor she wondered what had brought Beaumont here to her aunt’s house again, and at such an unusual time to call. Had he realised she was not a man? Worse still, had he realised she was Hope and would he tell her aunt what he had seen? She hardly had time to recover from her confusion when there was a tap on the door. It was Edna bringing a request from Aunt Constance that Hope join her in the drawing room.
Twisting her hands and breathing shall owly, Hope asked, “Why does she want me to join her, Edna?”
“Mr Beaumont is here. I overheard him say he wishes to discuss the magic lantern programme with you. Her Grace told me he wants to hear you play the accompaniment.”
“I can’t possibly.”
“Your aunt will be displeased unless you are poorly. Are you ill?” Edna peered at her face.
Hope paused.
“Lady Hope . I didn’t know anyone was in here.”
“It’s all right, Stevenson, I came to see if the task was completed or not.”
“As you can see my l ady, these bundles of clothing are being taken now.” He gave a nod to the servant who proceeded to collect up some of the bundles and leave the room with them. “That pile on the floor is the clothing Her Grace thought was unsuitable to pass on.”
“Thank you, Stevenson.” As soon as the butler had left the room she dived into the bundle and grabbed items one after the other holding them up to see how fitting they were. In her view most were perfectly useable. Having sorted an outfit for Richard she surreptitiously left the room telling herself she was doing nothing wrong. Back in her room she hid the clothes at the bottom of her trunk. Then, to calm herself, she sat at the escritoire and continued with her journal.
I don’t know what has come over me. I have behaved in a most unbecoming way. Scrabbling through clothes regarded as waste. Why did I do it? Because I wish to see Beaumont. If, after my attempt at playing the piano, he never wants to see me again I can at least view him from afar as Richard. What is it about him that makes my pulse quicken and cheeks pinken? I am ridiculous, I hardly know the man. But something, no everything, about him appeals – from his looks to his pursuits. When I next see Edna I will not tell her about the clothes I have taken. We will never speak of me dressing as a man again. But now I will dress as Richard and attempt to escape for a walk in one of the parks.
Hope felt comfortable in the clothes she had found and was pleased to have the watch tucked into the pocket of her waistcoat. It would ensure she was back in plenty of time and would not be missed. As her confidence increased she was able to enjoy all the sights and sounds of the street scenes around her. No longer did she hurry along, keeping her head down. She was certain no one would notice she was not what she seemed.
An enjoyable stroll in the weakening sunshine along the park’s paths round the pond, gave her a feeling of peace. But on approaching Aunt Constance’s house she was horrified to see Beaumont coming along the street in the opposite direction, clearly making his way to the front entrance. It was an unusual time to be making a social call uninvited. Her jauntiness ebbed and her legs turned to jelly. Looking down at her feet she tried not to falter and attempted to make her way past him without being seen. He stopped.
“Excuse me, it’s Monsieur Richard, n’est pas?”
“Non,” she squeaked, before hurrying towards the side of the building and the back entrance. Once inside she leant against the door and vowed never again to risk going out in gentlemen’s clothes. In her rooms she changed and stuffed the outfit in her trunk promising herself they would be returned to the pile later. Pacing the floor she wondered what had brought Beaumont here to her aunt’s house again, and at such an unusual time to call. Had he realised she was not a man? Worse still, had he realised she was Hope and would he tell her aunt what he had seen? She hardly had time to recover from her confusion when there was a tap on the door. It was Edna bringing a request from Aunt Constance that Hope join her in the drawing room.
Twisting her hands and breathing shall owly, Hope asked, “Why does she want me to join her, Edna?”
“Mr Beaumont is here. I overheard him say he wishes to discuss the magic lantern programme with you. Her Grace told me he wants to hear you play the accompaniment.”
“I can’t possibly.”
“Your aunt will be displeased unless you are poorly. Are you ill?” Edna peered at her face.
Hope paused.
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