you?" Sherwin hadn't thought along these
lines before Miss Torrington had raised the subject, but she
had made a good point. "Not that I took any interest in my
wardrobe before. My mother has taken care of such things
for me."
"Haven't got a mother, but I should think a man's got to learn how to fend for himself." Freddie sipped from his
glass. "If taking a hand in choosing one's waistcoat isn't
one of them, I'll be dashed."
"You will help me, then?" Sherwin had had no idea how
much he needed the guidance of an older male. It was fortunate Freddie had come along.
"It's a male's prerogative, I should think." Freddie appeared
set on the idea. "Don't have any brothers of my own, and
you've lost yours recently. I'd be glad to lend a hand."
"I can't thank you enough, Freddie." Sherwin's chin
lowered nearly to his chest. Even if his brothers were still
alive, he wasn't sure he'd be experiencing such an outing
with either of them.
"One thing, though." Freddie drained his glass and set it
on the table. "You can't go on calling me Freddie. It's Brent
from now on-best you remember that. We're not schoolboys anymore, Amhurst."
Right enough. Sherwin motioned to the door. "Let's be
off then, Brent."
Goodness-it's Freddie!" Aunt Penny's voice carried from
the marbled foyer of Worth House down the corridors and
probably to the attics.
Tall, dark, and handsome, Frederick, Earl of Brent, had
his father's wavy hair but the dark coloring of his mother, a
trait shared with his sisters Augusta and Muriel.
"Freddie!" Muriel called out, and she ran down the corridor to her brother.
"Aunt Penny, Moo." He greeted each with an embrace
and a kiss on their cheeks.
The Duke soon joined them and held his hand out to his
son. "Good to see you, Frederick."
Freddie grasped his father's hand, and they shook-like
two real men. Even though Muriel had grown since she'd
last seen him, Freddie stood much taller, and he looked,
somehow, much older. Perhaps it was the stubble of whiskers on his wide jaw or the set of his broad shoulders that
made a difference. It certainly was wonderful to see him
again.
"Please tell me you're staying here with us," Muriel implored.
"Of course I'll stay, unless there are any objections," he
teased. "Then I can set up at Clarendon's."
"This isn't quite a family reunion, but with Gusta in Suffolk and Char-Char in Cornwall, it will have to do."
"May I offer you a drink?" The Duke gestured that his
son follow him.
Muriel fairly dragged her brother behind their father toward the library.
"I barely recognized you, Moo," Freddie teased her.
"Look at you, in an honest-to-goodness frock with lace and
ruffles, your hair in curls-I can hardly believe it! You
might even attract a man, done up like that." He laughed and
grew serious when he took a closer look. "You're more than
passable-I suppose, you're not an antidote-quite pretty,
actually."
"You're such a man of the world," she groaned. "And it's
Lady Muriel now, my lord."
"My lord, is it?" Freddie lifted her and spun her around and
around, making her squeal in a most unladylike fashion and
making her terribly dizzy besides. "You're mighty haughtydangerous with a bit of Town bronze."
His Grace poured into two glasses. "Moo, here, has even
attended Almack's."
"You don't say!" Freddie gawked at her. "Why, you really
have changed. No longer trying to alter hundreds of years
of tradition at Eton? Have you left poor Headmaster Keate
alone finally?"
Freddie knew very well that, without a formal education,
she could not be admitted to a higher-education institution,
whether or not it admitted females. Still, she would keep her
matrimonial ruse even from her brother.
"Will you do me the favor of informing me which you
plan to lay siege to, Cambridge or Oxford? And I'll make
plans to attend the other."
Both Freddie and their father had a good laugh.
Muriel did not find that humorous in the least and made
no effort to
lines before Miss Torrington had raised the subject, but she
had made a good point. "Not that I took any interest in my
wardrobe before. My mother has taken care of such things
for me."
"Haven't got a mother, but I should think a man's got to learn how to fend for himself." Freddie sipped from his
glass. "If taking a hand in choosing one's waistcoat isn't
one of them, I'll be dashed."
"You will help me, then?" Sherwin had had no idea how
much he needed the guidance of an older male. It was fortunate Freddie had come along.
"It's a male's prerogative, I should think." Freddie appeared
set on the idea. "Don't have any brothers of my own, and
you've lost yours recently. I'd be glad to lend a hand."
"I can't thank you enough, Freddie." Sherwin's chin
lowered nearly to his chest. Even if his brothers were still
alive, he wasn't sure he'd be experiencing such an outing
with either of them.
"One thing, though." Freddie drained his glass and set it
on the table. "You can't go on calling me Freddie. It's Brent
from now on-best you remember that. We're not schoolboys anymore, Amhurst."
Right enough. Sherwin motioned to the door. "Let's be
off then, Brent."
Goodness-it's Freddie!" Aunt Penny's voice carried from
the marbled foyer of Worth House down the corridors and
probably to the attics.
Tall, dark, and handsome, Frederick, Earl of Brent, had
his father's wavy hair but the dark coloring of his mother, a
trait shared with his sisters Augusta and Muriel.
"Freddie!" Muriel called out, and she ran down the corridor to her brother.
"Aunt Penny, Moo." He greeted each with an embrace
and a kiss on their cheeks.
The Duke soon joined them and held his hand out to his
son. "Good to see you, Frederick."
Freddie grasped his father's hand, and they shook-like
two real men. Even though Muriel had grown since she'd
last seen him, Freddie stood much taller, and he looked,
somehow, much older. Perhaps it was the stubble of whiskers on his wide jaw or the set of his broad shoulders that
made a difference. It certainly was wonderful to see him
again.
"Please tell me you're staying here with us," Muriel implored.
"Of course I'll stay, unless there are any objections," he
teased. "Then I can set up at Clarendon's."
"This isn't quite a family reunion, but with Gusta in Suffolk and Char-Char in Cornwall, it will have to do."
"May I offer you a drink?" The Duke gestured that his
son follow him.
Muriel fairly dragged her brother behind their father toward the library.
"I barely recognized you, Moo," Freddie teased her.
"Look at you, in an honest-to-goodness frock with lace and
ruffles, your hair in curls-I can hardly believe it! You
might even attract a man, done up like that." He laughed and
grew serious when he took a closer look. "You're more than
passable-I suppose, you're not an antidote-quite pretty,
actually."
"You're such a man of the world," she groaned. "And it's
Lady Muriel now, my lord."
"My lord, is it?" Freddie lifted her and spun her around and
around, making her squeal in a most unladylike fashion and
making her terribly dizzy besides. "You're mighty haughtydangerous with a bit of Town bronze."
His Grace poured into two glasses. "Moo, here, has even
attended Almack's."
"You don't say!" Freddie gawked at her. "Why, you really
have changed. No longer trying to alter hundreds of years
of tradition at Eton? Have you left poor Headmaster Keate
alone finally?"
Freddie knew very well that, without a formal education,
she could not be admitted to a higher-education institution,
whether or not it admitted females. Still, she would keep her
matrimonial ruse even from her brother.
"Will you do me the favor of informing me which you
plan to lay siege to, Cambridge or Oxford? And I'll make
plans to attend the other."
Both Freddie and their father had a good laugh.
Muriel did not find that humorous in the least and made
no effort to
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