Read Online Wicked Angel by Julia London - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Julia London
Tags: Romance
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me. I would not bore you with the details," he said, and helped himself to a generous portion of stew.
Lauren stifled a delighted giggle as she nudged Lydia to take a piece of bread. "Constable Richards?
How very ironic," she said as she pushed a bowl in front of Sally. "They say he pursued a ruthless pirate for many years." She paused and glanced thoughtfully at the window. "He never caught him—they say it haunts him to this day. But surely he is not the
same
Constable Richards."
She glanced at Mr. Christian, who returned her gaze with a mischievous smile. Incredulous, the children all paused, their attention riveted on Mr. Christian's anticipated answer. "Surely not," he agreed slowly, and the children's shoulders sagged almost as one with disappointment. "Unless, of course, you refer to
Robert
Richards?" The children suddenly sat forward, their spoons freezing between bowl and mouth as they jerked their gazes to Lauren.
"Why,
yes
, I do indeed! Do you know him?" Of course he did, and Mr. Christian began to weave a fantastic tale of adventure on the seas, sprinkled with exciting and very close encounters with the imaginary Constable Richards. The children were spellbound, hardly tasting their stew. Lauren was hardly immune to his charm, either. She wanted to hug him for treating the children with respect and dignity. She wanted to cry that he did not seem to notice Leonard's horrid birthmark. Her admiration of Mr. Christian, already dangerously high, grew with alarming leaps and bounds during the course of that meal.
Unfortunately for them all, with the notable exception of Mrs. Peterman, dinner was over far too soon.
Lauren reluctantly sent the children to their chores, kissing the tops of their heads as she firmly sent them off. They all wanted to stay with Mr. Christian—so did she.
And she might have contrived a way to do it had Mr. Goldthwaite not picked that very inopportune time to call. The banging on the front door came just as she poured tea. A moment later, the apothecary marched into the small dining room carrying a large bunch of wilting daisies, his apple cheeks flushed. If there was anything worse than Ethan, it was Fastidious Thadeus. Why did he have to call
today?
"Good afternoon, Mr. Goldthwaite," she said wearily.
"Afternoon Miss Hill." He sniffed. "I have taken the liberty of bringing you some daisies. They are quite the rage just now, and I thought they should brighten your dressing table nicely," he said, his small brown eyes sliding to Mr. Christian.
"Thank you, Mr. Goldthwaite," she said evenly, "but I do not have a dressing table." She stood politely to receive the blasted flowers and brought them quickly to her face to hide her mortification. Oh God, she could not bear to imagine what Mr. Christian must be thinking! "Mr. Goldthwaite, may I present Mr.
Christian?" she said coolly, and hearing Mrs. Peterman behind her, turned and thrust the daisies into her hands, for which she received another disapproving frown.
"How do you do, Mr. Goldthwaite."
"I do very well, sir. I have not seen you here before. Are you a benefactor?"
Lauren groaned.
Mr. Christian politely ignored the indecorum of such a question. "Miss Hill very kindly brought me here after my horse went lame. I am off to Pemberheath now in search of help," he said, coming to his feet.
Lauren felt a moment of panic, and rushed too eagerly, she damn well knew it, to his side. "Rupert has not yet returned, Mr. Christian, but I am certain he shall be along shortly—"
"Nonsense! I should be happy to take Mr. Christian to Pemberheath! But I pray you, sir, we must leave at once. I should not have stopped as it is, but as I had the daisies, it would not do to let them wilt," Mr.
Goldthwaite said, and started immediately for the door.
"I should be most obliged, sir." Mr. Christian turned and smiled warmly at Lauren. "Miss Hill, I cannot thank you enough for your hospitality. Good day, Mrs. Peterman," he nodded to the unsmiling
Lauren stifled a delighted giggle as she nudged Lydia to take a piece of bread. "Constable Richards?
How very ironic," she said as she pushed a bowl in front of Sally. "They say he pursued a ruthless pirate for many years." She paused and glanced thoughtfully at the window. "He never caught him—they say it haunts him to this day. But surely he is not the
same
Constable Richards."
She glanced at Mr. Christian, who returned her gaze with a mischievous smile. Incredulous, the children all paused, their attention riveted on Mr. Christian's anticipated answer. "Surely not," he agreed slowly, and the children's shoulders sagged almost as one with disappointment. "Unless, of course, you refer to
Robert
Richards?" The children suddenly sat forward, their spoons freezing between bowl and mouth as they jerked their gazes to Lauren.
"Why,
yes
, I do indeed! Do you know him?" Of course he did, and Mr. Christian began to weave a fantastic tale of adventure on the seas, sprinkled with exciting and very close encounters with the imaginary Constable Richards. The children were spellbound, hardly tasting their stew. Lauren was hardly immune to his charm, either. She wanted to hug him for treating the children with respect and dignity. She wanted to cry that he did not seem to notice Leonard's horrid birthmark. Her admiration of Mr. Christian, already dangerously high, grew with alarming leaps and bounds during the course of that meal.
Unfortunately for them all, with the notable exception of Mrs. Peterman, dinner was over far too soon.
Lauren reluctantly sent the children to their chores, kissing the tops of their heads as she firmly sent them off. They all wanted to stay with Mr. Christian—so did she.
And she might have contrived a way to do it had Mr. Goldthwaite not picked that very inopportune time to call. The banging on the front door came just as she poured tea. A moment later, the apothecary marched into the small dining room carrying a large bunch of wilting daisies, his apple cheeks flushed. If there was anything worse than Ethan, it was Fastidious Thadeus. Why did he have to call
today?
"Good afternoon, Mr. Goldthwaite," she said wearily.
"Afternoon Miss Hill." He sniffed. "I have taken the liberty of bringing you some daisies. They are quite the rage just now, and I thought they should brighten your dressing table nicely," he said, his small brown eyes sliding to Mr. Christian.
"Thank you, Mr. Goldthwaite," she said evenly, "but I do not have a dressing table." She stood politely to receive the blasted flowers and brought them quickly to her face to hide her mortification. Oh God, she could not bear to imagine what Mr. Christian must be thinking! "Mr. Goldthwaite, may I present Mr.
Christian?" she said coolly, and hearing Mrs. Peterman behind her, turned and thrust the daisies into her hands, for which she received another disapproving frown.
"How do you do, Mr. Goldthwaite."
"I do very well, sir. I have not seen you here before. Are you a benefactor?"
Lauren groaned.
Mr. Christian politely ignored the indecorum of such a question. "Miss Hill very kindly brought me here after my horse went lame. I am off to Pemberheath now in search of help," he said, coming to his feet.
Lauren felt a moment of panic, and rushed too eagerly, she damn well knew it, to his side. "Rupert has not yet returned, Mr. Christian, but I am certain he shall be along shortly—"
"Nonsense! I should be happy to take Mr. Christian to Pemberheath! But I pray you, sir, we must leave at once. I should not have stopped as it is, but as I had the daisies, it would not do to let them wilt," Mr.
Goldthwaite said, and started immediately for the door.
"I should be most obliged, sir." Mr. Christian turned and smiled warmly at Lauren. "Miss Hill, I cannot thank you enough for your hospitality. Good day, Mrs. Peterman," he nodded to the unsmiling
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