Promise Me Read Free Page B

spectacles resting halfway down her nose as her attention remained fixed on the morning newspaper.
    “ Good morning, Gran.”
    She practically jumped out of her chair. “Oh, Nicky…you startled me, dear.”
    “ My apologies, love.”
    She set the paper aside and removed her spectacles. “Shall I ring for breakfast, or would you prefer a cup of tea first?”
    He joined her at the table. “No, I’ll eat something later.”
    “ Bartholomew ate like a king at breakfast and a pauper at supper.”
    “ Yes, I recall his frequent sermons on the subject.”
    “ Sermons?” She chuckled. “Yes, my dear husband would’ve made a fine vicar, would he not?”
    “ Stern is a better word.” Nicolas glanced around. “Seasons may chance but not the comfort of this solarium. Gran, do you recall when Adrian and I got into trouble as youngsters, you’d bring us here and after you finished lecturing us about what we’d done to upset you, you’d hug us close and say--”
    “ Now run along, my dearest boys. We mustn’t let your grandfather hear of this.” A poignant smiled graced her lips, and she covered his hand with hers. “Of course I remember.”
    Nicolas smiled. “What were you reading?”
    “ Reading?”
    “ Was that not the Standard you set aside?”
    “ Oh…yes, but there’s nothing important in it.”
    “ Well let’s have a look see, shall we?” He reached for the paper.
    She snatched it away. “Go into breakfast before your eggs grow cold. We mustn’t upset Cook.”
    “ Why, Grandmother Margaret. You’re hiding something.” He held out his hand. When she did not immediately comply, he added, “You do realize yours is not the only copy?”
    She frowned but handed it over. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    “ Of course not, my lady.”
    Nicolas thumbed through the pages until he came across Irma Crandle’s gossip column. He scanned the long paragraph, acutely aware his grandmother fidgeted beside him, but there was no mention of Leah Sheridan. Instead, it scorned a notorious marquis who had become involved with two ladies.
    “ Irma Crandle is a scandalmonger and a liar,” Gran declared. “Whatever she’s printed, you cannot believe a word.”
    He studied his grandmother. Fear darted in and out of her eyes. Because of his earlier interruption, she apparently hadn’t read this morning’s column, but she clearly expected it to be about Leah Sheridan.
    Nicolas set the paper aside. “You do not find her column amusing?”
    “ Good heavens, no. Why, she’s become the biggest thorn in our side since that little upstart Frenchman.”
    “ You mean, Napoleon Bonaparte?”
    “ Yes, that’s the one.”
    “ If Miss Crandle’s gossip offends you, why read it?”
    “ What causes you to believe I do?”
    Nicolas sighed. “Gran, about Miss Sheridan--”
    “ It was a lie.”
    “ What?”
    “ Whatever you read in that column.”
    “ The lady wasn’t mentioned.”
    “ Who?”
    “ Miss Sheridan.”
    Her fearful expression relaxed. “Well, of course not. Why would she be?”
    “ But there was something written about her a few days ago, was there not?”
    “ A simple visit to Cambridge Town, but that horrible woman turned it into something wicked.”
    “ What do you mean?”
    “ A scandalous tryst, that’s what she implied.” Her gaze narrowed. “And while we’re on the subject, whatever did you say that caused Miss Sheridan to leave the Harvest Ball last evening in such a dreadful hurry?”
    “ Why must you assume it was something I said?”
    “ Come now, Nicky. Are you asking me to believe you did not interrogate the poor girl?”
    “ About the gossip column? Certainly not. I did, however, ask why Adrian ended their betrothal.”
    “ He did no such thing. Wherever did you get such a notion?”
    “ From something I overheard.” He waited, but she did not inquire as to what he’d heard. “Grandmother, I suspect you’ve not been completely honest with me.”
    Winston