she said she’d rather have me as a guest than my aunt. Promise you won’t tell Aunt Agnes, though? I swore I wouldn’t peach on Susannah’s mother.”
“Then you mustn’t. And I would not think of telling.”
“She says I can feed the chickens tomorrow, and she will show me how to gather the eggs.”
The future Viscount Forde mucking in a henhouse? The current viscount almost scooped the boy up again, to get him out of such common surroundings. But Crispin looked happier than he’d seen him in ages, babbling about the goats, and how there was a stream next door at the squire’s, and could they go fishing there? Gerald’s friend Doddsworth had two younger brothers, and they went all the time with their father.
Forde had never been fishing with his son. The boy spent summers in the country with his grandparents, his mother’s family.
“I’ll ask Squire Doddsworth, shall I?”
“Mrs. Cole said she would. He is coming to supper tonight, but Aunt Agnes insisted I am to have my meal on a tray upstairs. Mrs. Cole asked the cook to make strawberry tarts ’cause they are my favorites.”
“Are they?” He had not known. “Mine, too.”
“And she found me some books that used to belong to Miss Susannah so I won’t be bored. But tomorrow we are all invited to dinner at Doddsworth Manor after church. Me, too. Isn’t that capital, Father?”
Forde had never sat to a formal supper with his son, either.
“Susannah says the squire has hounds, lots of them. And the biggest boar in the county. That’s a boy pig, you know. And she says I can come visit her and Gerald in Hampshire next summer, if I don’t have to spend the whole holiday with Grandmother. I like her, don’t you?”
“Your grandmother?” Forde had not seen the woman since his wife’s funeral. “Of course.”
“No, Father. Miss Susannah.”
“Oh. She is a very charming young lady.”
“But not as nice as Mrs. Cole.”
“Where is Mrs. Cole?”
“Sewing on the wedding dress. It is the prettiest gown I have ever seen. Do you know, when you touch it, your fingers get all fluttery? Miss Susannah hates it and says that is all fustian nonsense. She and Cousin Gerald are arguing in the parlor, so I came outside to wait for you. Mrs. Cole said you would be here soon, and she was right.”
“She is very wise.” And very confident that he would do the right thing, which made Forde surprisingly proud, as if her good opinion of him as a father mattered one whit.
“May I stay here, Father? May I?”
Katie Cole had already shown the halfling more attention than Crispin’s own mother had, and more care than his aunt. “If you behave and do not cause her any headaches.”
“I would not. Mrs. Cole says she will chop me up and feed me to the chickens otherwise. She’s a prime ’un, isn’t she? That’s what Jem Coachman says, anyway.”
“I do not think you should be using the head groom’s vocabulary, but, yes, Mrs. Cole is top drawer.”
“You like her, don’t you?”
She was kind to his motherless son. “Yes, I like her. Very much.”
Chapter Nine
V iscount Forde embodied masculinity from the top of his windblown hair to the bottom of his shiny boots. He was charm incarnate when he wished to be, flashing that smile. And he was seductive, an attraction that had been missing in Katie’s life for so many years she was surprised she could recognize it, like an elephant. She had never seen one of those creatures, but was certain she would know it when she did. And then there was another quality that his lordship possessed, one that made the others pale in comparison.
A woman might observe a gentleman flirting, or dancing, or riding his horse, and find herself moonstruck. But seeing a man hug his son—his filthy little boy who’d been playing tag with the goats—that was something else altogether. That was heart, a pure, rare commodity in this world. Any number of men had courage and honor and physical attraction, but
“Then you mustn’t. And I would not think of telling.”
“She says I can feed the chickens tomorrow, and she will show me how to gather the eggs.”
The future Viscount Forde mucking in a henhouse? The current viscount almost scooped the boy up again, to get him out of such common surroundings. But Crispin looked happier than he’d seen him in ages, babbling about the goats, and how there was a stream next door at the squire’s, and could they go fishing there? Gerald’s friend Doddsworth had two younger brothers, and they went all the time with their father.
Forde had never been fishing with his son. The boy spent summers in the country with his grandparents, his mother’s family.
“I’ll ask Squire Doddsworth, shall I?”
“Mrs. Cole said she would. He is coming to supper tonight, but Aunt Agnes insisted I am to have my meal on a tray upstairs. Mrs. Cole asked the cook to make strawberry tarts ’cause they are my favorites.”
“Are they?” He had not known. “Mine, too.”
“And she found me some books that used to belong to Miss Susannah so I won’t be bored. But tomorrow we are all invited to dinner at Doddsworth Manor after church. Me, too. Isn’t that capital, Father?”
Forde had never sat to a formal supper with his son, either.
“Susannah says the squire has hounds, lots of them. And the biggest boar in the county. That’s a boy pig, you know. And she says I can come visit her and Gerald in Hampshire next summer, if I don’t have to spend the whole holiday with Grandmother. I like her, don’t you?”
“Your grandmother?” Forde had not seen the woman since his wife’s funeral. “Of course.”
“No, Father. Miss Susannah.”
“Oh. She is a very charming young lady.”
“But not as nice as Mrs. Cole.”
“Where is Mrs. Cole?”
“Sewing on the wedding dress. It is the prettiest gown I have ever seen. Do you know, when you touch it, your fingers get all fluttery? Miss Susannah hates it and says that is all fustian nonsense. She and Cousin Gerald are arguing in the parlor, so I came outside to wait for you. Mrs. Cole said you would be here soon, and she was right.”
“She is very wise.” And very confident that he would do the right thing, which made Forde surprisingly proud, as if her good opinion of him as a father mattered one whit.
“May I stay here, Father? May I?”
Katie Cole had already shown the halfling more attention than Crispin’s own mother had, and more care than his aunt. “If you behave and do not cause her any headaches.”
“I would not. Mrs. Cole says she will chop me up and feed me to the chickens otherwise. She’s a prime ’un, isn’t she? That’s what Jem Coachman says, anyway.”
“I do not think you should be using the head groom’s vocabulary, but, yes, Mrs. Cole is top drawer.”
“You like her, don’t you?”
She was kind to his motherless son. “Yes, I like her. Very much.”
Chapter Nine
V iscount Forde embodied masculinity from the top of his windblown hair to the bottom of his shiny boots. He was charm incarnate when he wished to be, flashing that smile. And he was seductive, an attraction that had been missing in Katie’s life for so many years she was surprised she could recognize it, like an elephant. She had never seen one of those creatures, but was certain she would know it when she did. And then there was another quality that his lordship possessed, one that made the others pale in comparison.
A woman might observe a gentleman flirting, or dancing, or riding his horse, and find herself moonstruck. But seeing a man hug his son—his filthy little boy who’d been playing tag with the goats—that was something else altogether. That was heart, a pure, rare commodity in this world. Any number of men had courage and honor and physical attraction, but
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