The Gallant Guardian Read Free Page A

going to accomplish what she had hoped it might. Now there was nothing for it but to journey to London herself and set this Lord Lydon straight. Let him try to fob her off on his solicitor when she appeared on his doorstep. Ignoring her while she was buried in the country was one thing, but face-to-face was quite another matter altogether.
    Charlotte sighed and the frown deepened. She had not the slightest wish to visit the metropolis, with its crowds and dusty traffic-filled streets, but there was nothing for it; her duty lay clear before her and she had never been one to shirk her responsibilities. Ever since her mother had died, she had looked after the household and her younger brother, taking on tasks that were far too difficult for a child. To be sure, a five-year-old could not do much, but there had been a housekeeper, nursemaids, governesses, and an army of servants to carry out the actual work. Then, two years after William had been born, it became apparent that the protracted and difficult birth that had killed his mother had also retarded his development and Charlotte’s father had deserted them for good, abdicating to all intents and purposes his role as head of the household in favor of his slip of a daughter.
    The Earl of Harcourt had never been around a great deal after his wife’s death, but following the discovery of his son’s diminished capacities he no longer bothered to return at all, preferring to reduce his contact with the family to the written word.
    Feeling lost and deserted by a parent whose visits had been infrequent at best. Charlotte had lavished all her attention on her younger brother, resolving that he should never lack the love and affection that she had craved so desperately after her mother had died. She had been amply repaid for her troubles. Slow though he might be intellectually, William was a handsome, affectionate lad who adored his older sister. He followed her everywhere and hung on her every word. Charlotte had become both mother and teacher to him, devoting hours to coaxing his mind through its painstakingly slow development and fiercely rejecting the opinions offered by her own governess and a score of tutors that he would never be able to read or write.
    At last, when she had mastered all that her own governess could teach her. Charlotte had turned in desperation to the local vicar. The Reverend Doctor Joseph Moreland was a gentle, learned man, devoted to his little flock of parishioners, and quite content to eschew the high positions to which his education and abilities entitled him in favor of active involvement in his community. He had welcomed the opportunity to share his scholarship with a pupil as quick and eager as Charlotte and had taken on the challenge of teaching her brother with such enthusiasm that William, at the age of fifteen, was able to say his letters, do his sums, and read and write as well as any eight-year-old.
    Infact, thanks to the Herculean efforts of Charlotte and the vicar, William appeared to the casual observer to be a healthy, good-natured easygoing lad with all the energy and interest of a normal sporting-mad fifteen-year-old. It was not until one engaged him in any sort of a discussion that one noticed that his words were simple and often slow to come to him and that his conversation was confined to such basic topics as horses, dogs, and anything else that might engage the attention of an eight-year-old.
    The local villagers accepted him and loved him as much for his own sake as for his sister’s and he was a familiar sight as he haunted the blacksmith’s and the stable at the inn, plying the men with questions about horses, which were his passion.
    A common sight in the village, the tall blond boy and his diminutive dark-haired sister offered quite a contrast with one another. He was big-framed and loose-limbed like his father, with bright blue eyes and a smiling, open countenance, while she was small and slim. Her wide green eyes, set under