Sweet Deception Regency 07 - The Divided Hearts by Karla Darcy Page A

the left door
she poked among the shelves until she found her favorite,
black-plumed riding hat. She yawned widely as she turned to face
the room. “It’s much too early to start the day. It’s a bloody
conspiracy to get me out of bed.”
    “Miss Judith!” Phoebe might be a free
spirited soul but her Puritan ancestry did not condone such
language.
    “I’ll wash out my mouth later. Right now see
if you can find my riding boots.”
    Judith unbuttoned the lawn night rail as she
searched the serpentine bureau for appropriate underthings. Clad in
all but her habit, she made her ablutions, muttering under her
breath at the hurried pace of her life in America. Looking into the
mirror of the dressing table, she smiled at the rosy color in her
cheeks as she brushed her hair and Phoebe fumbled with the buttons
on the back of her white shirtwaist.
    “By the way, Phoebe, please thank your
mother for letting Patrick stay with her yesterday. He was full of
his adventures at supper last night. I’m glad he’s found a friend
in Roger.”
    “Roger considers himself cock of the walk
since Patrick came,” Phoebe said, her voice disapproving as
befitted an older sister.
    Roger Williams Finney was named after the
founder of Rhode Island. He was a scrawny, redheaded boy whose
enormous brown eyes reminded Judith of a sad looking cow she had
once seen. However the twinkle in Roger’s eyes, accompanied by a
saucy grin, indicated that the boy was neither docile nor sad. He
and Patrick were the same age and Roger had been more than thrilled
to become the newcomer’s mentor. Judith hoped the boys would be
able to stay out of trouble but decided that was a futile
expectation.
    “And, Patrick, hasn’t moaned once since he
started taking lessons with your mother.”
    “Mama says he’s a bright boy. He already
knows how to read some. Now Roger is studying harder just because
Patrick is doing so well.”
    Judith chuckled remembering the look of
horror on the boy’s face when she announced he would have to have
some schooling. Simon had suggested Phoebe’s mother knowing that
the woman had already taken on the task of teaching her assorted
tribe of children. Phoebe’s grandmother had been the schoolteacher
in Newport until the British burned the school during the war. For
Patrick, unused to the rigors of a structured education, this
solution had been perfect. Judith could not imagine the mischief
that the two boys could cause in an ordinary school atmosphere. The
home school offered more chance for supervision and a great deal of
loving attention from Phoebe’s plump, cheerful mother.
    Judith fastened the black frogs on her
jacket, fluffing the lace cravat on her shirtwaist so that it
floated softly down her bosom. She was delighted with the golden
brown material of her riding habit which despite it’s military
markings made her look both graceful and feminine. Phoebe waited
with the usual expectant look on her face, while Judith tied her
hair back with a thin black velvet ribbon. She could watch the
little servant’s face reflected in the mirror as she experimented,
trying the jaunty hat with the sleek black plume at various angles.
Only when Judith caught Phoebe’s nod of approval did she consider
her outfit complete. Grabbing the last muffin off the breakfast
tray, she accepted her crop and gloves with a hug for Phoebe and
scurried down the hallway. She finished the muffin, licking the
crumbs from her fingers as she descended the stairs.
    “It’s about time,” Simon grumbled as he
kissed her on the cheek.
    “Now, Father, a lady should never be rushed
at her toilette,” Judith answered primly. Ignoring Simon’s snort,
she strolled toward the front door. As she approached, it was flung
open and a pair of bright blue eyes peered around the edge.
“Morning, Patrick.”
    “It’s about time,” the boy said, mimicking
Simon.
    Judith stuck out her tongue at the child and
skipped down the stairs to the cobblestones. An open buggy