A Rose Before Dying Read Online Free Page B

clean until he made a decision about a townhouse.
There was no woman to care for a child.
    She nodded again and waited patiently,
adjusting her fingers more tightly. His thumb curved gently over
her tiny hand to support her clasp.
    “Come along, then.” Perhaps he could convince
Mr. Wellfleet to hire the girl. There must be something she could
do. Run errands…something. And the Wellfleets would surely have
female servants to care for her.
    Uncomfortably aware that the unknown Mr.
Wellfleet might not be as cooperative as Charles hoped, he strode
forward. After only a few yards, he noticed the girl struggling to
keep up with his long stride. He moderated his pace, but again, she
lagged and stumbled. Her head hit his thigh.
    Finally, he swung her up to rest on his hip.
The rank odor of her tattered garments and unwashed hair emanated
from her like a noisome mist. He breathed through his mouth.
    When she sighed and rested her head against
his shoulder, he didn’t know whether to be gratified or horrified
at the appalling view of her unspeakable scalp. Something wriggled
amongst the roots of her hair.
    He stared at the street ahead and forced his
mind away from the variety of passengers he now carried.
    It didn’t take long to locate the Wellfleet
house. Its impressive façade and attached glass house gave him a
momentary hesitation. The Wellfleets were more than simply
well-heeled given their address and the expanse of property on the
western edge of the land-poor city of London. He shifted Rose on
his hip.
    Having a young female clinging to him made
him uncomfortably aware of a certain lack of preparation. He’d
spent his youth in the sole company of men. He’d had only his
father, the late earl, and his father’s brother, Sir Edward, as
companions until he was sent to school.
    Some friends had jokingly pointed out that
Charles tended to be somewhat less aware—the exact word they used
was “disrespectful”—of the social niceties than he might have been
had he had the advantage of a woman to impress the rules of Society
upon him. Before today, he’d shrugged it off. If he visited a grand
house, it was because a friend invited him. He felt perfectly
comfortable handing his hat to the butler and strolling down the
most elegant hallway to the masculine regions of the library or
study. Earls were always welcomed, even the boorish ones.
    Somehow, he had the notion that he was going
to feel dramatically less comfortable over the next hour or so if
there was a Mrs. Wellfleet to contend with.
    He climbed the steps and knocked, glancing
around with the last-minute idea of hiding Rose behind one of the
planters ensconced on either side of the entrance. Both boxes
sported clipped boxwood in the rigid shapes of a pyramid topped by
a ball. Before he could deposit her behind one of them, the door
opened.
    “Yes?” the butler intoned gravely, lisping
ever so slightly. His round, cherubic face, dimpled cheeks, and
lack of height warred with the stern manner he attempted to assume.
He studied Charles, letting his protuberant eyes rest for a moment
on Rose. “Tradesmen ‘round back.”
    Charles stepped forward in case the butler
had the urge to shut the door in his face. “Mr. Lee sent me—”
    “With that?” He pointed to Rose.
    “No, of course not. She—well, she met with an
accident.”
    “I see.” The puzzled look on the butler’s
face clearly indicated he did not see. “I hope Mr. Lee was
not injured, as well?”
    “No. It had nothing to do with Mr. Lee. He
was quite well when I left him this afternoon. He suggested I speak
to Mr. Wellfleet. Is he available?”
    “Mr. Lee sent you to Mr . Wellfleet?”
The butler’s voice rose in surprise.
    “Yes. If he’s at home?” Charles was fast
losing patience. The child seemed to be gaining weight simply by
breathing and minute wriggling along his collar suggested that the
additional passengers she carried were finding him tastier than
their current host.
    “Best