Lord Harry's Folly by Catherine Coulter (good romance books to read TXT) 📗

in love. And not with his mother. He has even shown her his rock collection. She is one reason why we have no second thoughts about leaving him for a while. Hardly a sad look he could muster when we took our leave of him.”

“Thank you for taking her into your home. I prayed she would work out well for you.”

Sir John stretched out his long, muscular legs toward the fireplace, and said with a frown darkening his brow, “There must be many such waifs as she, I fear. Many such men as her uncle Bob were hailed as heroes, yet the government did naught for their widows and children. At least we have all done the right thing in this one instance. Don’t worry about her, Hetty. She’s safe and content with us. We will see to her future.”

Lady Louisa said, “She’s such a bright, pretty girl. Jack’s right. And when the time comes, we will see to it that she makes a suitable marriage. In the meanwhile, she will have the security of wages and a good home.”

She wanted to cry, she was so relieved, but she managed to swallow down the sob. She tried to smile, and was saved by her perceptive brother. He said, laughing, “Our father never changes. Lord, Hetty, how do you ever manage the care of him?”

“Ah, a fine question. Do you know that the servants tell me that Sir Archibald’s schedule is a flawless clock. Once, but last week, he had luncheon with one of his Tory cronies, and left the servants bewildered for the remainder of the afternoon. My only interference has been to give Cook the hint never, never to serve any dish to him that contains even the remotest suggestion of corn.” At the puzzled frown on Louisa’s face, she added with a grin, “You must know that the wretched Whigs are brewing all sorts of mischief with the Corn Laws. I don’t think that I could endure another impassioned lecture on their collective deceit, which, I assure you, would be the outcome.”

Sir John said, sitting forward in his chair, “I would never, of course, even dream of talking politics with Father. Yet, being a farmer myself, I begin to see that there are flaws with our new Corn Laws. Not importing corn until our own English corn reaches eighty shillings a quarter well, it seems to me that our poorer people are going to have a hard time of it. Already the price of bread is out of reach for the poor wretches in the larger cities. Damien, I know, was beginning to grow quite concerned about the worsening conditions, particularly in Manchester. I can remember him saying that in not too many years there would be trouble there and demand for sweeping reforms. Damnation, I wonder if Father will ever admit to the fact that there are other points of view.”

“You speak blasphemy, Jack.” Hetty swept her eyes heavenward for forgiveness. “Father was born a conservative Tory and he will die a conservative. Actually, he’s beyond a mere conservative. I don’t think there’s really a party for him, but he strives to bring all his cronies into his way of thinking.”

Louisa rose suddenly and shook out her stylish traveling skirt of twilled gray muslin. Sir John, seated, was nearly the height of his wife standing. She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips, then remarked in a teasing voice to Hetty, “You see, my dear, how you deal with one of his size? You must show affection to your oversized brother when he’s seated. It quite saves one from being crushed or getting an ache in one’s neck. Now, Jack, you have done your duty. Both Hetty and I excuse you. You’re probably itching to visit your clubs, to hear all the manly gossip.” She turned to Hetty, eyes twinkling. “Men’s gossip, I think, is very much like our gossip, only it would take torture for Jack to admit it. Now, Jack, I will see that Planchard unpacks for you and lays out your evening clothes.”

“Dismissed by a little slip of a girl who hardly reaches my chest. I ask you, Hetty,” Sir John continued, rising from his chair, “should I box her ears for such an impertinence or kiss her for being so adorable?”

“Kiss her, Jack,” Hetty said. “Although it appears you’ve already done a lot more than just kissing.”

“My sister, the virgin,” Sir John said, and grinned.

“Off with you, Jack. I don’t wish to see that insufferably grinning face of yours until dinner.” It was Louisa who kissed her husband.

“She leads me about by the nose, Hetty.” Sir John gave his sister a gentle pat on the cheek and strolled from the drawing room, humming a tune whose words were best left unspoken and unsung.

Hetty led her sister-in-law up to the blue guest room to chat about styles, Little John’s immense talent in singing, and the new baby that nestled inside its mother’s womb. It was finally Lady Louisa who changed the topic of conversation from her own concerns to Hetty’s. She gazed pointedly at the hem of Hetty’s gown, that was, unfortunately, several inches too short, and said, “You’ve grown taller since last I saw you, Hetty. I hope that your party gowns are sufficiently long to cover your ankles. Come, love, show me your wardrobe, for if you have need of something, I would like very much to go shopping this afternoon.”

As Hetty could think of no polite way to keep Louisa from seeing her pitifully few dresses, she agreed, hoping that at the worst, her sister-in-law would only think her guilty of bad taste.

Louisa made a rapid inspection. She was appalled by the outmoded gowns and wondered just exactly what Hetty wore to all the parties she attended. Because she knew Hetty’s pride to be as great as Sir John’s, she held her tongue, and silently determined to get Hetty to a dressmaker’s that very afternoon under the guise of