The Merry Month of May Read Free Page A

intruders. As soon as he clamped an eye on the lady, he knew it wasn’t Cousin Gloria. This one was a commoner, a petite blonde, with a round face and bold brown eyes. She seemed to be doing an inventory of the hallway. Her sharp eyes traveled from the marble floor to the embossed ceiling, stopping to evaluate every picture and statue in between.
    While she gazed, Haldiman took in her rumpled traveling suit. It was of decent material, but poorly cut and of a garish red shade. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her servants should use the back door. But very likely she was the nursery maid, accompanying the boys. He looked over her shoulder, hoping for a glimpse of her employer. The man, a tall, well-formed one, was in shadows. As Haldiman waited, the man stepped into the light.
    “Hallo, Rufus,” he said warily.
    Haldiman felt a singing in his ears. His head spun, and for a moment he felt he had fainted. It was Peter! He just stared, waiting for the hazy face to focus into some other form, to assume the aspect of Cousin George Deverel, or some other relative. The outlines firmed into the unmistakable features of Peter. A little older, of course. The boyish bloom was off him. His complexion was ruddy and his cheeks fuller, but it was Peter.
    “Good God! Where did you come from?” Haldiman exclaimed, in a whisper of disbelief.
    “America, actually.” Peter stepped forward and shook Haldiman’s hand. “I should have written first. Daresay this is a bit of a shock for you, Rufus.”
    The boys had careened back into the hall. The elder shouted, “Papa. Papa, I want to see the knights in armor. I want to ride the ponies. When can we eat?”
    Haldiman stared in horror at the boys, and at the woman in the red suit, then back at his brother. A myriad of ghastly possibilities assailed him, including illegitimate children and blackmail. Peter smiled uneasily. “Heh, heh. You didn’t know I was a father, eh? You’re an uncle twice over, old man.”
    “Are you married?” Haldiman demanded harshly.
    The young lady exclaimed, “Well, upon my word!” in high dudgeon.
    Haldiman shook himself to attention. “Sorry. This is Lady Peter, I collect?”
    “Oh no!” Peter said.
    Again Haldiman felt that strange sound in his ears. He feared what new calamity he was about to hear.
    “This is Betsy Harvey, my wife’s sister,” Peter explained.
    “Ever so happy to meet you,” Miss Harvey said, offering her gloved hand. “You have a lovely place here, Lord Haldiman.” She was quite miffed when Haldiman ignored her compliment, though he shook her hand.
    “Where is Lady Peter?” he asked his brother.
    “Fiona died, Rufus,” Peter said in a low voice. “Died of a miscarriage a year ago. I—I decided to bring my lads home and rear them as proper Englishmen.”
    “Not to say that Canadians aren’t perfect gentlemen,” Miss Harvey interjected hastily.
    “When can we eat?” one of the boys demanded in a loud voice.
    “Hush, Rufus,” his father said.
    Haldiman, untouched at the honor of having his nephew named after him, looked a question at Miss Harvey. “You and Miss Harvey are engaged?” he asked. Why else would he have brought her with him from America? Miss Harvey gave a bold smile at this assumption.
    “Not at all. Miss Harvey has never been to England. It seemed too good an opportunity for her to miss,” Peter explained.
    “I traveled with my woman,” Miss Harvey threw in. “They trotted her upstairs to unpack for me. There was nothing improper in it if that’s what you’re thinking. I may not have blue blood, but the Harveys are as good as anyone. Tell him, Peter.”
    “Oh, excellent family,” Peter said. “Vast tracts of timber in upper Canada. Fiona and Betsy are—were heiresses.”
    Betsy smiled and nodded her head as if to say, “So there, Mr. High and Mighty.” Her actual words were, “I have an uncle, a judge, and a cousin, a governor.”
    “If you don’t give me some food, I will eat