A Wicked Gentleman Read Free Page B

Forest, which in turn gave way to the richly wooded acres that had been hunted by the kings of England since before William Rufus the Red, the son of William the Conqueror, lost his life to an ill-aimed arrow. Or maybe it was a well-aimed arrow, legend was uncertain on the matter, but the Rufus Stone a few miles away over the heath, still marked the spot where he’d died.
    Cornelia hiked up her skirts as she picked her way across a damp pasture towards a stile that gave access to the narrow village lane. Once over, she headed, half-running against the cold, towards the village green and a pretty red-brick manor house set back from the lane. The house that had been her own childhood home. An idyllic childhood in many respects, in this village sandwiched between the Forest and the blue waters of the Solent. But rustic pleasures could pall eventually, and she was more than ready for a change of scene she reflected with a grimace as she raised her hand to the brass knocker.
    â€œEh, Lady Nell, catch yer death you will,” the housekeeper scolded as she opened the door to the imperative knock. “Comin’ out like that…might as well be in yer shift.”
    â€œIs her ladyship in, Bessie?” Cornelia hugged her arms across her chest.
    â€œIn the nursery, ma’am.”
    â€œGood.” Cornelia hastened towards the stairs. “One of your sack possetts, Bessie, please. ”
    The other woman smiled with obvious satisfaction. “Right away, m’lady.”
    Cornelia ran up the first flight of stairs, then hurried down a passage to the nursery stairs that led to the top floor. She could hear the voices of her sister-in-law and the nurse interspersed with the high-pitched stream of words pouring forth from Aurelia’s four-year-old daughter. Despite her cold and her fury, Cornelia smiled. Little Franny was a force to be reckoned with when it came to holding the floor. The young Lord Dagenham had quickly learned that discretion was the better part of valor when it came to words with his younger cousin.
    Cornelia pushed open the nursery door and was greeted with the blaze of the fire, and the wonderful smell of hot irons as the nursery maid went about her pressing.
    â€œWell, Nell?” Lady Aurelia Farnham demanded instantly, disentangling her daughter’s fingers from her pale blond hair before jumping to her feet. Her brown eyes shrewdly assessed her sister-in-law and made a fair guess at her mood.
    Cornelia shook her head. The wind had snatched her hair from its pins, and she pulled them out as the honey-colored braids, almost long enough for her to sit on, fell from the once-neat coronet around her head.
    â€œThey refused?” her sister-in-law said, her head tilted slightly, her fair eyebrows lifted.
    â€œYes, Ellie, they refused,” Cornelia confirmed bluntly. “I obey a peremptory summons to Markby Hall to discuss my request…it was not a request; it was a declaration…” Her voice rose a little with her rekindled anger, and her blue eyes glittered.
    â€œIn my letter I’d stated my intention and merely said I would need an extra sum released from the trust to fund the trip, as has always been the case when unusual circumstances have arisen…and what do they do? They treat me like some errant schoolgirl, and refuse point-blank to entertain the idea…and they’ll say the same to you, so I wouldn’t bother asking,” she added, pacing agitatedly in front of the fire.
    â€œCarlton Farnham could probably have been persuaded, so you might try an appeal directly to him since he’s more your trustee than mine, but you know what influence the earl has over them all.”
    â€œWhy did the earl refuse…on what grounds?” Aurelia asked, and instantly wished she hadn’t, as her sister-in-law’s expression became yet more ferocious.
    â€œAh, yes, the grounds,” Cornelia said, bending to warm her hands at the fire.