minutes with his prolix nephew? No, that was unfair. Reginald was not the cleverest of men, but he did concern himself with more serious things than most of the people Diana was likely to encounter. Certainly he was a more stimulating escort than Ferdie and his cronies.
And, if the snatches of her conversation that he had overheard were any indication of the tenor of the lady's mind, then surely she would find the idle gossip, which formed the chief source of entertainment in the fashionable drawing rooms of the ladies of the highest ton, tedious in the extreme. She must have been desperate for someone who could share in her interests. No one knew better than Justin how difficult it was to find such people. If that were the case, then he had 97
The Willful Widow
by Evelyn Richardson
done her a grave injustice, and it was time he apologized. Resolving to call on her that very afternoon, he drew up in front of his lodgings, dismounted, sent his horse to the stable, staggered upstairs, and tumbled into bed. When he awoke a good deal later, he was more eager than ever to call in Brook Street. After consuming a huge but belated breakfast, fortifying himself with numerous cups of coffee, followed by a brisk ride through the park, Justin felt invigorated enough to take on the entire world much less a woman who, despite her widowhood, was no more than a mere chit of a girl.
His intended quarry was in the drawing room comfortably curled up on a divan surrounded by piles of newspapers. Boney was sleeping peacefully on her shoulder enjoying the warmth of the ray of sunshine that washed over both of them. Diana was frowning in concentration as she attempted to sort out the finer points of the debate over income tax that was now occupying the House of Lords, and trying to fathom the effect the variety of possible decisions might have on those persons wishing to invest in the funds. It was all extremely complicated, and she was not at all sure she was capable of divining the implications of it all. This sort of speculation seemed the most expedient way to repair her meager finances, but it could be very worrisome. So deep in thought was she that she didn't hear Finchley's knock, nor was she aware of anyone's presence until the butler coughed discreetly and announced in stentorian tones,
"The Lord Justin St. Clair to see you, ma'am." 98
The Willful Widow
by Evelyn Richardson
Aroused unwilling from a pleasant nap, Boney stirred and ruffled his feathers, muttering grumpily, "Insufferable, arrogant man," the customary sounds his quick ear had picked up in connection with the words Justin St. Clair. Justin grinned. So now it was Diana's turn to blush with chagrin at the antics of that blasted bird. "Now where do you suppose Bonaparte learned that litany," he wondered aloud.
"Boney is a very clever bird, sir," she replied, a conscious look on her charmingly flushed countenance.
"But not, I think, an independent thinker, eh Boney?" He strolled over to reach out a tentative finger to the feisty gray bird who cocked his head inquiringly, and slowly blinked one eye.
Doing her best to stifle an answering grin as her traitorous pet sidled along her shoulder toward her visitor, Diana continued, "Now that we have succeeded in insulting you, may we know the purpose of your call?"
"Why yes." Justin stroked the iridescent head, which leaned toward him inviting just such attention. "I came to apologize."
"Apologize!" Shaken out of her carefully maintained composure, Diana sat bolt upright, abruptly interrupting Boney's blissful interlude.
"Yes, apologize. You express surprise, but as you do not ask what I am apologizing for, I assume you are still miffed with me."
Diana's eyes darkened. "Miffed is not precisely the word I should choose, furious more like. What right had you, sir, to intrude in my life, to pass judgment on me? What right?" 99
The Willful Widow
by Evelyn Richardson
"None, actually." Justin grinned ruefully. "And that is why
And, if the snatches of her conversation that he had overheard were any indication of the tenor of the lady's mind, then surely she would find the idle gossip, which formed the chief source of entertainment in the fashionable drawing rooms of the ladies of the highest ton, tedious in the extreme. She must have been desperate for someone who could share in her interests. No one knew better than Justin how difficult it was to find such people. If that were the case, then he had 97
The Willful Widow
by Evelyn Richardson
done her a grave injustice, and it was time he apologized. Resolving to call on her that very afternoon, he drew up in front of his lodgings, dismounted, sent his horse to the stable, staggered upstairs, and tumbled into bed. When he awoke a good deal later, he was more eager than ever to call in Brook Street. After consuming a huge but belated breakfast, fortifying himself with numerous cups of coffee, followed by a brisk ride through the park, Justin felt invigorated enough to take on the entire world much less a woman who, despite her widowhood, was no more than a mere chit of a girl.
His intended quarry was in the drawing room comfortably curled up on a divan surrounded by piles of newspapers. Boney was sleeping peacefully on her shoulder enjoying the warmth of the ray of sunshine that washed over both of them. Diana was frowning in concentration as she attempted to sort out the finer points of the debate over income tax that was now occupying the House of Lords, and trying to fathom the effect the variety of possible decisions might have on those persons wishing to invest in the funds. It was all extremely complicated, and she was not at all sure she was capable of divining the implications of it all. This sort of speculation seemed the most expedient way to repair her meager finances, but it could be very worrisome. So deep in thought was she that she didn't hear Finchley's knock, nor was she aware of anyone's presence until the butler coughed discreetly and announced in stentorian tones,
"The Lord Justin St. Clair to see you, ma'am." 98
The Willful Widow
by Evelyn Richardson
Aroused unwilling from a pleasant nap, Boney stirred and ruffled his feathers, muttering grumpily, "Insufferable, arrogant man," the customary sounds his quick ear had picked up in connection with the words Justin St. Clair. Justin grinned. So now it was Diana's turn to blush with chagrin at the antics of that blasted bird. "Now where do you suppose Bonaparte learned that litany," he wondered aloud.
"Boney is a very clever bird, sir," she replied, a conscious look on her charmingly flushed countenance.
"But not, I think, an independent thinker, eh Boney?" He strolled over to reach out a tentative finger to the feisty gray bird who cocked his head inquiringly, and slowly blinked one eye.
Doing her best to stifle an answering grin as her traitorous pet sidled along her shoulder toward her visitor, Diana continued, "Now that we have succeeded in insulting you, may we know the purpose of your call?"
"Why yes." Justin stroked the iridescent head, which leaned toward him inviting just such attention. "I came to apologize."
"Apologize!" Shaken out of her carefully maintained composure, Diana sat bolt upright, abruptly interrupting Boney's blissful interlude.
"Yes, apologize. You express surprise, but as you do not ask what I am apologizing for, I assume you are still miffed with me."
Diana's eyes darkened. "Miffed is not precisely the word I should choose, furious more like. What right had you, sir, to intrude in my life, to pass judgment on me? What right?" 99
The Willful Widow
by Evelyn Richardson
"None, actually." Justin grinned ruefully. "And that is why
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