Jo Ann Brown Read Free Page A

returned. “I would advise you, Miss Meriweather, to keep out of his path.”
    “We have learned on the Continent that is the wisest course, and I hope you will learn from our experience. If you will excuse us as well, I believe it is time for us to stop dripping on the rugs.” Cousin Edmund started to walk away, then turned back to her. “Your kindness is more appreciated than you can guess, cousin. To own the truth, I was uncertain what welcome I would find here.”
    “You are Lord Meriweather.” She fought to ignore the sorrow that clutched her heart as she spoke those words. Ten months were not long enough to ease the grief of her father’s death. She should be glad that he was in heaven and out of pain—and she was—but she missed his booming laugh and the way he’d always teased her and her sister, Catherine, when they came in windblown from walks along the cliffs. And she missed the evenings when they would sit in his book-room and talk about the places they would visit once the war was won.
    Cousin Edmund took her hand and bowed over it politely. Yet she could not mistake the question in his eyes. He was curious if she was willing to do as everyone expected and become his wife. Did he feel the weight of duty, too?
    What a pea-goose she was! Many marriages among the ton were based on matters that had nothing to do with love. She should be grateful that Cousin Edmund was treating her with kindness and not acting as if he would never consider marrying a woman who could look him directly in the eye. Another man might have tossed her and her family out of the manor house without a backward glance or insisted that the vicar have the first reading of the banns at the next Sunday service.
    He released her hand. Walking past her, he went toward the stairs.
    With a quick nod, Mr. Bradby followed.
    Sophia remained where she was. Even as the two men spoke their warnings, she had heard their genuine admiration and friendship for Lord Northbridge. She could not help wondering what bound three such different men together and how their presence was going to change Meriweather Hall and everyone who lived within it.
    * * *
    Charles Winthrop smoothed the bedding over his children who were asleep in the large tester bed. Gemma, even at seven years old, showed hints of her mother’s lustrous beauty. His three-year-old son resembled him—not just physically. Michael had inherited that stubborn streak that had led Charles into trouble too many times.
    He walked into the sitting room where Bradby sat by the tall bay windows. His friend was pouring himself a cup of tea from the pot that had been waiting when Charles had arrived with the children.
    “What are you doing here?” Charles closed the bedroom door partway, so he would hear if the children were awakened by his conversation with Bradby.
    “You know I get bored when the only company I have is my own.” His friend poured a second cup and held it out to Charles. “And Herriott is meeting with his new household staff.”
    Waving the cup aside, Charles went to close the green draperies. The wind off the North Sea rattled the windows as rain crawled down the glass. He paused and looked out through the storm at the volatile ocean. From the house’s location at the edge of the promontory he could see the whole bay. Boats rocked violently in the waves crashing along the bases of the cliffs where huge boulders had fallen in previous squalls. Through the rain he caught sight of a small village perched almost vertically at the inner curve of the cliffs. The weathered stone buildings with their red-and-gray-tiled roofs clung close together on the steep streets, but offered scant shelter from the tempest.
    In the open fields at the top of the cliffs, the parish church stood firm against the wind. Its square tower was almost the same color as the gray sky. Sheep grazed around it, oblivious to the showers. The stone outbuildings set closer to Meriweather Hall had been built to