Nina Coombs Pykare Read Online Free Page A

son, was a gentleman born. Yes, Jennifer knew a gentleman when she saw one. And Ingleton, for all his efforts, did not fill that description.
    “How do you like Seven Elms?” asked Ingleton. “Isn’t it quite the most fabulous place you’ve ever seen?”
    Jennifer resigned herself. It was obvious this little beau was out to prove himself and, since she was the only female present beside his aunt, she was bound to be the recipient of his favors.
    “Come,” repeated Ingleton. “How do you find Seven Elms?”
    “I find it very - Gothic,” she replied and then, realizing the hazardous position he had forced her into, she fell silent.
    But Mr. Parthemer, helping himself to liberal slices of roast beef, chuckled heartily. “Right you are. There ain’t no more Gothic place than Seven Elms. And who should know that better than him as put down the blunt for it. And a pretty sum, too.”
    “Really, Mr. Parthemer,” his wife observed plaintively. “It’s not the thing to discuss such matters.”
    Mr. Parthemer shrugged. “It’s me as spent the blunt and it’s me as’ll talk about it if I’m so inclined. But eat up, m’dear. You’re getting far too thin.”
    The invalid nibbled delicately at the food he served her and kept her peace. Mrs. Parthemer might run the rest of the household, however haphazardly, but it was evident that she could not curb Mr. Parthemer’s tongue.
      “Did you get about much in London?” asked Ingleton. “To the theater or the opera?”
    Jennifer shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Governesses seldom attend such things. I do hear that the Italian, Madame Catalani, is still singing as beautifully as ever. She is quite a lovely woman. Very dark hair and dark eyes. I heard her sing once at a gathering that the Earl gave. Such a marvelous voice. But I’m afraid there is little more that I can tell you about London. I spent most of my time in the nursery.”
    “I’m returning there soon,” said Ingleton, with such a look of longing that Jennifer wondered that he was not in the city at that moment.
    But Mr. Parthemer soon stopped her speculations on the matter by announcing bluffly, “If ye hadn’t visited them hells so often, ye’d still be there. But ye gamed away your substance and so it’s here in Dover ye’ll have to stay. I’ll feed ye and the like, but no more allowance till quarter day.”
    So, thought Jennifer, the beau was a gamester and had lost his allowance. He looked the type who would fasten leech-like on his richer relatives. And there was a decided weakness in his chin, she observed as he presented her his profile, that boded ill for his future.
    But Mr. Parthemer seemed to have the matter in hand, for he continued, “Aye, I’ll feed ye until next quarter day, but not a tuppence will ye get out a me. A man’s got to stand on his own two feet, make his own way in this world.” And Mr. Parthemer gave forth a satisfied sigh that signified that he had indeed done just that and was now entitled to the enjoyment of his labors.
    “Do ye ride, Miss?” he asked suddenly.
    Jennifer nodded. “I used to, Sir. But it has been some time.”
    “I like the looks of ye. Ain’t going to up and run like them others. I see it in your eyes. And ye’ve got a stubborn chin.”
    “So my Papa used to tell me,” said Jennifer with a small smile.
    “I like ye,” repeated Mr. Parthemer. “I’ve got a nag in the stables don’t nobody ride. I got her for Mrs. Parthemer here, but she’s too sickly. Whyn’t you take her out now and then? Nice little mare she is. With white stockings.”
    “That’s very kind of you, sir. I’d be glad to exercise her for you.” Jennifer could not mistrust the motives of this bluff hearty man, but her years as governess had taught her caution. She could not afford to let it look like her employer was doing her favors.
    “You do that.” Mr. Parthemer nodded. “I’ll leave ‘em orders out at the stable.”
    He turned to his wife’s