Read Online The Waltzing Widow/Smith by Joan Smith - Free Book Online

idea of detouring around the road.
    The digging extended, over the morning, in such a wide swath that it met the wild shrubbery growing five or six feet high, and getting a carriage though was impossible. No fresh supplies were brought down from Chenely, but the milk and cream had not curdled yet, so the ladies were not deprived of tea. As the morning progressed, the incessant noise preyed on poor Mrs. Percy’s ears to no small degree.
    Although she had the windows closed, dust seeped in around the frames, and soon the furnishings wore a coating of brown powder.
    When Tony came cantering along in his yellow curricle, he could hardly see Rose Cottage for the dust, and he could not get his carriage in. He retraced his route down the main road and up the sweeping drive to Chenely, to demand of his uncle what was going forth.
    Avedon glanced up from his paperwork and said, “I am having tiles laid in my meadow.”
    “You ain’t having tiles laid across the road!” Tony challenged. “And you shouldn’t be doing it now, when the Percys have just arrived. What must they think?”
    “I gave them advance warning.”
    “Dash it, Uncle Adrian, that’s demmed uncivil. The place is clouded in dust.”
    “Civility and consideration form no part of my plan,” Avedon said blandly.
    “I see what it is. You want to get rid of them, just because Mrs. Percy is pretty. You never want me to have anything to do with a pretty woman, as though I was still in swaddling bands. Dash it, Uncle, I reach my majority in six months.”
    “That leaves me only six months in which to ram some sense into you.”
    “But what is Mrs. Percy to do about coming and going? How can she get out of her cottage?” Bigelow demanded.
    “I will be more than happy to arrange for her going —in my own carriage, if that is what it takes.”
    “You’ve got her locked up like a prisoner.”
    “She has two legs,” Avedon pointed out. “In an emergency, she could walk or send a servant on shank’s mare.”
    “She couldn’t walk if she hurt herself,” Bigelow said swiftly. “And supposing the place caught fire— dash it, it ain’t safe. It’s criminal irresponsibility.”
    “A fire?” Avedon said with interest. “Not a bad idea.”
    Bigelow, who was not much attuned to a joke, exclaimed, “You can’t burn my cottage down!”
    At this, Avedon burst into laughter. “No, cawker, I don’t mean to go that far. Two or three days with no company and stale food will root them out.”
    “Well, it won’t,” Tony replied, and left on foot to cut across the brush and dust to Rose Cottage, to present his perspiring self to the ladies to commiserate with them.
    “This is beyond anything,” he apologized. “You will think we are a parcel of yahoos. Avedon is always interfering in my life, but to treat you in this manner—I hardly know what to say, Mrs. Percy.”
    “Call me Lucy,” she said with a warm smile. “And help me, Tony.” This was added in a wheedling tone that turned him rosy with pleasure. “Your uncle has marooned us—no milk or eggs this morning, so I cannot even offer you a cup of coffee or tea. We quite depended on Lady Sara’s offer to supply us.”
    “I’ll send some over from Milhaven, by Jove.”
    Lucy reached out and patted his hand. “So kind. I knew we might depend on you. But Milhaven is three miles away, and inconvenient to be sending food every day.”
    “Yes, it’s a pity you hadn’t a couple of chickens and a cow,” he agreed.
    A light flashed in Lucy’s eyes. “How clever you are! Of course, that is exactly what we need. Will you sell me some chickens and a cow?”
    Tony beamed with pleasure. “No, give them. It is the least I can do.”
    This was even better, and Avedon would hear where she got them, too! “Do you know,” Lucy said, “I think I must put in a little garden, there in front where you so thoughtfully thinned out the roses for us. You won’t mind if we have to remove the grass as well?” A