The Babe and the Baron Read Free Page B

a chance to assume an air of propriety.
    The path led them round the corner of the cottage and under an arched trellis festooned with yellow laburnam. Emerging from the arbour, Rupert at his heels, Gareth saw a girl seated on a bench in the filtered sunlight under an apple tree in bloom.
    He stopped, raising his hand to silence his brother while he studied her.
    Her dark head, crowned by a small, simple cap but hatless, was bent over some task in her lap, about which her hands were busy. Heavy braids, neatly pinned up, emphasized a graceful neck. She wore a plain gown of black cotton, unrelieved by any touch of white, with long sleeves and a high neck. Nothing could have been more demure.
    She reached into a basket at her side, a plain gold band gleaming on her finger, and Gareth realized that she was shelling broad beans. Not the sort of chore one might expect a trollop to stoop to! His doubts withered.
    “Lady Laura?”
    She looked up, startled, revealing a complexion as delicately pink and white as the apple blossom. As she stared, the colour fled from her cheeks and she raised one hand to her parted lips in...dismay? Alarm? Then she shook her head, relaxing. “Oh, foolish!” Her voice was sweet and low. “How very like Freddie you are. Lord Wyckham?”
    “Yes.” Disconcerted, he bowed. “How did you guess?”
    “We met once.” Setting aside the colander in her lap, she rose and came to meet them. Her face was pretty, if not beautiful, with particularly fine eyes of an unusual greenish grey, but her figure was over-plump and she moved awkwardly.
    “I'm sorry,” he said, contrite, as Rupert bowed over her hand, “I don't recall the occasion.”
    She chuckled wryly. “There is no need to apologize. It was during my Season, and you, like every other gentleman, had eyes only for my sister. I don't regard it.”
    Before Gareth, taken aback for the third time, could respond, his brother said with automatic gallantry, “Had I had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, ma'am, nothing could have driven the memory from my mind. Captain Rupert Wyckham, at your service.”
    Rosy lips curved in a warm smile. “How do you do, Captain. How kind of you both to call. Are you on your way to Newmarket?”
    “As a matter of fact, no,” said Gareth. “We came from Town especially to see you. I learned just the other day of Cousin Frederick's unfortunate accident. Allow me to present my sincere condolences.”
    “Thank you, my lord.” Her direct gaze was a trifle skeptical. “I was under the impression that the Wyckhams, like the Chamberlains, had cast out the black sheep.”
    “My aunt and uncles did their best to ignore his existence, but I...er...was able to oblige him on one or two occasions.”
    “He touched me, too,” said Rupert cheerfully.
    Lady Laura flinched. “I see. If you will tell me the amounts, gentlemen, I shall repay you as soon as I am able.”
    “Good gad, no!”
    “Jove, I should say not!” Rupert sounded as outraged as Gareth felt. As though they would dun a widow!
    “You mistake us, ma'am. As head of the family, I have come to offer you a home at Llys Manor, my country seat.” His duty done, he awaited her effusive gratitude for rescuing her from a life of penury, wondering whether it would last any longer than Cousin Maria's.
    “You are most generous, sir,” she said quietly, “but I fear I must refuse.”
     

Chapter 2
     
    Despite the unmistakable family resemblance, Laura was beginning to see how Lord Wyckham differed from Freddie.
    For a start, he was impeccably dressed in a bottle-green morning coat, starched cravat of modest height, snuff-brown waistcoat and inexpressibles. His top boots shone as Freddie's had not since the day they were bought. Altogether his unostentatious elegance made his brother appear a gaudy coxcomb, and would have made Freddie look slovenly.
    A year or two younger than his cousin, the baron had a mature dignity Freddie would probably never have attained.