Read Online The Rules of Seduction by Madeline Hunter - Free Book Online
Authors: Madeline Hunter
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to scold her about the bills, scoldings that she always accepted with chagrin but then happily ignored.
He eyed her now as she sat with her daughter across from him in the coach. A gargantuan hat covered most of her very fair hair. Its broad, steeply angled brim kept hitting Caroline’s cheek. The largest red bow in the history of millinery dwarfed the high crown. An extravagant plume swept in a broad arch to brush Hen’s delicate jaw. With Henrietta’s slight figure, small face, and fine features, the hat looked like a weight about to bend her over.
No doubt Hen thought the hat just grand and worth every penny of its cost. She did not see how it aged her. As the much younger sister of his dead mother, Aunt Henrietta, at thirty-six, still possessed a youthful countenance, but in that hat she could have been fifty.
“You are very sure this governess speaks impeccable French?” she asked. “Caroline requires a firm hand there.”
“Miss Welbourne is accomplished in all subjects required of her.” Actually, he did not know for certain Miss Welbourne knew her French. If she claimed to have the education for her new role, however, he did not doubt she would produce it. He suspected she could teach herself French in a fortnight if she still needed to learn it.
“I hope she is not like Mrs. Braxton,” Caroline muttered. A quiet, pale girl, Caroline rarely spoke. Hayden suspected the child he saw was not the real Caroline but one bleached and stifled by the presence of her mother.
“I am sure Miss Welbourne will be very different from your last governess,” Henrietta said. “Hayden had to promise her some unusual concessions to cajole her to aid us.” Her pale green eyes sparkled with a happy optimism that made her look dreamy and distracted all the time. “We are in town now, dear. It is a whole different world here. Mrs. Braxton would never do. That is why Hayden found us this house and the estimable Miss Welbourne.”
She bestowed on Hayden one of
those
smiles. One of the grateful, affectionate ones that said he was the strong anchor to her rudderless ship. She trusted him completely, depended on him too much, and expected his attendance at her whim. She created one disaster after another that she regretfully handed him to fix because he was so damned competent at doing so.
He did not doubt that his aunt dealt with him much as she had her late husband. Her adoring looks, her circular explanations, her attempts to soften him with flattery—they were the hallmarks of a woman handling a man. He was fond of Henrietta and even found her amusing. However, being her trustee for six years had taught him much about the kind of day-to-day dealings with a woman that came with marriage. None of it had encouraged him to seek a wife.
“There it is,” Henrietta announced when the carriage stopped on Hill Street. “I had the coachman drive me past yesterday. It is handsome enough, and of good size, don’t you agree, Caroline? Of course, it is not on a square. I had hoped—well, I daresay if Hayden thinks this will suit us, it undoubtedly will.”
Hayden knew what she had hoped. His brother Christian had known too.
Aunt Hen had neglected the details about moving to London until finding a suitable place to let became difficult. Christian had surmised their aunt had an ulterior motive to her incompetence. He was sure she had counted on being left without a residence, at which time she would petition to launch her daughter out of Easterbrook’s home.
Three weeks ago Christian had summarily decreed that would not, under any circumstance, happen. He would accommodate Caroline’s debut ball but would not live with their flighty and intrusive aunt under his roof.
The Longworth house therefore solved a pressing problem. It had also provided a way for Timothy Longworth to reimburse Henrietta for the stolen securities without her awareness. Aunt Hen assumed Hayden had sold off her funds to purchase the house.
As he
He eyed her now as she sat with her daughter across from him in the coach. A gargantuan hat covered most of her very fair hair. Its broad, steeply angled brim kept hitting Caroline’s cheek. The largest red bow in the history of millinery dwarfed the high crown. An extravagant plume swept in a broad arch to brush Hen’s delicate jaw. With Henrietta’s slight figure, small face, and fine features, the hat looked like a weight about to bend her over.
No doubt Hen thought the hat just grand and worth every penny of its cost. She did not see how it aged her. As the much younger sister of his dead mother, Aunt Henrietta, at thirty-six, still possessed a youthful countenance, but in that hat she could have been fifty.
“You are very sure this governess speaks impeccable French?” she asked. “Caroline requires a firm hand there.”
“Miss Welbourne is accomplished in all subjects required of her.” Actually, he did not know for certain Miss Welbourne knew her French. If she claimed to have the education for her new role, however, he did not doubt she would produce it. He suspected she could teach herself French in a fortnight if she still needed to learn it.
“I hope she is not like Mrs. Braxton,” Caroline muttered. A quiet, pale girl, Caroline rarely spoke. Hayden suspected the child he saw was not the real Caroline but one bleached and stifled by the presence of her mother.
“I am sure Miss Welbourne will be very different from your last governess,” Henrietta said. “Hayden had to promise her some unusual concessions to cajole her to aid us.” Her pale green eyes sparkled with a happy optimism that made her look dreamy and distracted all the time. “We are in town now, dear. It is a whole different world here. Mrs. Braxton would never do. That is why Hayden found us this house and the estimable Miss Welbourne.”
She bestowed on Hayden one of
those
smiles. One of the grateful, affectionate ones that said he was the strong anchor to her rudderless ship. She trusted him completely, depended on him too much, and expected his attendance at her whim. She created one disaster after another that she regretfully handed him to fix because he was so damned competent at doing so.
He did not doubt that his aunt dealt with him much as she had her late husband. Her adoring looks, her circular explanations, her attempts to soften him with flattery—they were the hallmarks of a woman handling a man. He was fond of Henrietta and even found her amusing. However, being her trustee for six years had taught him much about the kind of day-to-day dealings with a woman that came with marriage. None of it had encouraged him to seek a wife.
“There it is,” Henrietta announced when the carriage stopped on Hill Street. “I had the coachman drive me past yesterday. It is handsome enough, and of good size, don’t you agree, Caroline? Of course, it is not on a square. I had hoped—well, I daresay if Hayden thinks this will suit us, it undoubtedly will.”
Hayden knew what she had hoped. His brother Christian had known too.
Aunt Hen had neglected the details about moving to London until finding a suitable place to let became difficult. Christian had surmised their aunt had an ulterior motive to her incompetence. He was sure she had counted on being left without a residence, at which time she would petition to launch her daughter out of Easterbrook’s home.
Three weeks ago Christian had summarily decreed that would not, under any circumstance, happen. He would accommodate Caroline’s debut ball but would not live with their flighty and intrusive aunt under his roof.
The Longworth house therefore solved a pressing problem. It had also provided a way for Timothy Longworth to reimburse Henrietta for the stolen securities without her awareness. Aunt Hen assumed Hayden had sold off her funds to purchase the house.
As he
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