Nina Coombs Pykare Read Online Free Page B

persistently pursued her with offers which a decent young woman could not accept. So, reminding herself of the well-known ways of such men, she determined to proceed with care.
    “Have you come far?” the viscount inquired, his eyes surveying her curiously, and with what might almost have been admiration.
    “I am the baron’s daughter,” Edwina replied, straightening her listing bonnet. “Our land lies west of here.”
    “Ah. So then you must know our reputation,” he said with a cheerful smile that, given the circumstances, she found oddly incongruous.
    “Yes.” She couldn’t quite approve of such a cavalier attitude. “I heard of her ladyship’s untimely death. I grieved for her family, especially the little ones.”
    “Yes, indeed. It was a most appalling thing,” he said, still smiling. “Shocking, I can tell you. But it’s even more shocking to me that anyone who knows about it should even consider wanting a position here.”
    “We’re not all lords,” she replied, thinking to herself that this man, in his well-cut coat and cream-colored trousers, had probably never known want, certainly not real hunger.
    “Indeed, we are not,” he agreed cheerfully. “Nor are we all pretty young women.”
    Heat flooded her cheeks again. Life at the castle would be impossible if she let herself be flattered and beguiled by this admittedly attractive man. She had suffered enough while her father was living. She had no intention of being made a disgrace now that he was dead.
    “I know very little of pretty women,” she said, dismissing the compliment. “But tell me, milord, what do you know about my charges?”
    The viscount’s handsome face contorted in a grimace. “They are rather unhealthy little things, I fear. Pale as death whenever I chance to see them creeping about the hall. Their mama’s death seems to have unhinged their minds.”
    Edwina forced herself to remain calm. No matter what the children’s condition, they were her charges now, poor little things. She would do her very best for them. She was not like her father, she didn’t turn her back on responsibilities. “Do you know their names?”
    “Of course. The eldest is Henrietta — the picture of her dear departed mama. The resemblance is almost uncanny and in a few years will be even greater. She’s dark. The other, the younger one, is called Constance. She has fair hair.” He adjusted his cuffs. “I expect they will give you no trouble.”
    “I wasn’t thinking of trouble,” Edwina replied a little stiffly. “I only wish to learn as much as possible in order to help them. What about his lordship?” She paused, unable to ask the many other questions hovering in her mind.
    “His lordship is pretty much shaken up,” the viscount explained with a sad look and a melancholy sigh. “It’s a pity. The old chap used to be one of London’s best — a tip-top Corinthian. But now ...” His expression darkened. “We do our best to cheer him up, Lady Leonore and I, but it’s difficult. I think sometimes the man is carrying a load of guilt, a heavy load.”
    The viscount’s description fit the brooding man she’d seen that afternoon. Perhaps the viscount wasn’t so shallow after all. But why had he said that about guilt? Were the villagers right about the earl? Had the earl had something to do with Lady Catherine’s mysterious death? If so, what had he hoped to gain? Besides, he had seemed sincerely grief-stricken, sincerely missing his wife.
    Conscious of the appraising eyes of the viscount, Edwina struggled to dismiss such foolish imaginings from her mind. Her duty was to the children. The others were not her problem and certainly wild speculations about them would serve no good end. Might indeed, interfere with her work with the children.
    They rode for some minutes in silence. She told herself she was grateful not to have to walk any more, grateful that at last she’d found a haven. The rest she would handle. Some way, some