Polly and the Prince Read Online Free Page B

never have left her alone with Kolya. Of course, to Mrs. Howard it was inconceivable that her well-brought-up daughter might be attracted to a common tramp, however gentlemanly his manners and laughing his eyes.
    His eyes were not laughing at present. He was regarding her with an intentness that made her cheeks feel hot. She hoped he did not notice her flush—the light in the attic had dimmed suddenly as the setting sun passed behind a cloud.
    “That is all,” she said quickly, busying herself with cleaning her brushes. “Thank you for your patience.”
    “May I see?”
    “No, there is nothing to see as yet.”
    “Then I go remove Master Nicholas from under feet of matyushka.”
    It was not only herself whom he had won over, thought Polly, consoled, as he went off. Nick was halfway to hero worship; Mama had no qualms about giving Kolya the run of the house; and after eating with him in the kitchen last night, Ella had reported that he was a “right neighbourly sort,” her highest accolade.
    As she washed her brushes and palette and took off the cotton smock with its multicoloured spots and smears, Polly wondered what Ned would think of the stranger his family had taken in. Kolya’s charm would not easily overcome her conscientious older brother’s sense of propriety.
    Above all, Ned was wholly reliable. Polly was not in the least surprised when he arrived half an hour later, to be greeted by a tearful welcome from his relieved mother.
    “But of course I am here,” he said, puzzled, as he kissed her cheek. “We fixed the date a good fortnight since.”
    “I feared you might not remember.”
    “I told you that you might rely on him,” said Polly, coming down the stairs. “Let me take your coat, Ned. You see, Mama wrote to remind you and I forgot to post the letter.”
    His eyes met hers in a glance of comprehension, and he chuckled. “Polly, my dear, if the house burned down you would stand there studying the shape and colour of the flames and forget to notify the fire brigade.”
    Though he was five years her elder, the brother and sister understood each other well. Mr. Edward Howard was a kindly man who had learned long ago to make allowances for Polly’s overmastering passion—when he discovered that his remonstrances had no effect whatsoever. In looks he took after their father, sturdily built, like Nick, but with dark brown hair and grey eyes. His dark blue coat, buckskin breeches, and plain necktie were neat and respectable, making no effort to ape the fashions of his betters.
    He hugged Polly. “You are looking very well.”
    “Polly, you still have paint on your chin,” Mrs. Howard said, adding anxiously, “Come and sit down, Ned, dear. You must be fatigued after your journey.”
    “Not at all,” he assured her, following her into theparlour. The room looked bare without the African masks on the walls. “Lord John lent me one of his Grace’s travelling carriages and a groom to drive it, so you shall go to your new home in fine style tomorrow.” He sat down with a sigh of satisfaction. “How pleasant it will be to have my family about me after all these years.”
    The slam of the back door and an eager, earthshaking tread in the hall announced the return of the shoppers.
    “Rather more of the family than you expected,” said Polly dryly as Nick burst into the room.
    “Ned! The ostler at the Sussex told me you’d driven up in a fancy rig, so I went to take a look. Is it the duke’s? It’s bang up to the nines!”
    “Yes, it’s the duke’s. What the deuce are you doing here, Nicholas?”
    “I’ve been shopping for Mother,” said Nick nonchalantly, but there was a wary look in his eye.
    “Did you buy everything on the list?” Mrs. Howard asked.
    “Yes, Kolya is putting it in the kitchen. Ned, you must meet Kolya. He’s from Russia and he’s had the most famous adventures.” He turned and yelled down the hall, “Kolya, come and meet my brother.”
    Polly leaned close to