Winter Wedding Read Free

so out-of-the-way and where she had twice visited her aunt, had been on his route. He seemed to be as rootless as herself—worse. He was willfully rootless, for he had a home of his own and traveled apparently from mere caprice.
    It seemed she often received a reply to a letter from a recent hostess to hear that Allingcote had been there shortly after she left. These frequent references to him kept him alive in her mind, but she didn’t think she would have quite forgotten him in any case. She even suspected that she had been a little in love with him. Much good it would do her! A well-landed earl was not likely to consider an impoverished tumbleweed a suitable bride.
    Lady Lucker rattled on to say that Allingcote had developed quite an interest in Scotland lately. He had paternal relatives there. The name of Lady Gwendolyn occurred more than once.
    In the same calm voice as before, Clara asked, “Is there to be a match in that quarter? Such a long trip repeated frequently seems to suggest it. What is Lady Gwendolyn’s last name?”
    “Dunbar, old Lord Heather’s daughter. No, it has not been quite settled I believe, but likely he will offer. His mama, I know, is anxious to see him settle down, and not with his local flirt.”
    Clara was not surprised to hear that the dashing Allingcote had a string of girls. It was exactly what she expected of him, and she asked with waning interest which lady was assumed to have the upper hand.
    “He always says he will not marry Lady Gwendolyn, but then he keeps going back to Scotland, so what is to be made of it? A man does not go to a well unless he plans to drink; that is what I say. Gwendolyn is squat, poor thing. They so often are, the Scottish girls. I believe the cold climate stunts them, but Gwendolyn is especially compact. About four feet, eleven inches. Quite a little pygmy.”
    “Allingcote is tall himself. He must be six feet, I should think.”
    “Yes, he takes after his papa. Peg’s husband was tall, but then so is Peg. The whole family are tall as trees. He and Gwen will look a horse and a dog walking together.”
    “How about his local flirt? What is she like?” Clara asked, selecting another card and speaking desultorily, as though just making conversation.
    “Oh, she is the beauty of the region, the top heiress, and all the rest of it.”
    “I am surprised his mother dislikes the connection then,” Clara said, surprised.
    “So am I, for his papa was known to favor it, and usually old Lord Allingcote’s wish is law, even if he is dead. So unnecessary,” she added, looking at her bleak walls. “But Peg has taken the girl in dislike for some reason. I don’t know just what it is.”
    Clara was interested to hear more, but disliked to enter into a pointed quizzing with her shrewd companion. She said, “Has your sister any other children?”
    “Oh my yes! Three girls, all giants, and a younger son, Nickie. But Allingcote is the eldest. We call him Benjie, or Ben. He was named after Benjamin Franklin, who was a friend of his papa.”
    Clara had not gotten on a first-name basis with Lord Allingcote. He had asked her to drop the “Lord,” she remembered. “Lord me no lords, Miss Christopher,” he had said, in his strangely imperative way. “I always feel I have escaped from the Book of Common Prayer.”
    “Do you see much of your sister’s family?” Clara asked.
    “We usually exchange a visit once a year. We all go to Braemore in autumn, and Peg brings the children here in the spring.” Bad timing again, Clara thought. “Benjie comes, too, though he does not usually stay the whole two weeks. He was here last July by himself, but went darting off to Brighton halfway through the visit. He is strangely restless.”
    Clara bit back a howl of dismay. She had been in Brighton in June! Why could he not have gone in June? Her pen had proceeded to another name on the list, and this interesting subject was dropped.
    It rose again a week later when Lady