Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 10] - Lanterns Read Online Free Page A

but he held it captive a
moment longer, half-smiling into her eyes in a way that made the breath
hurry in her throat.
    "You are so kind," he said softly, and bowing his curly head
pressed a kiss on her fingers. "Truly, our steward did us an
inestimable service when he was able to interest Sir Lionel in this
property.
Adieu,
lovely Miss Warrington. I shall
count the hours to our next meeting."
    Painfully aware that she was blushing, Marietta bade him
goodnight and closed the door.
    Her father had to knock quite loudly before she recovered her
wits sufficiently to let him in.

Chapter II
    The breeze set the clothes flapping on the line, and Marietta
had to struggle to settle the prop firmly. She had toiled with the wash
for most of the morning, and the thought of it falling and having to be
done again made her cringe. She was late hanging it out to dry because
Mrs. Gillespie, who should have come today, had not appeared. Probably,
she had suffered another of her 'rheumaticky spasms.' Spasms, Marietta
thought resentfully, that originated in a gin bottle. Mrs. Gillespie
was, in fact, a less than satisfactory helper, but she was willing to
come on Tuesdays and Thursdays, for a comparatively meagre sum, and
when she was not suffering from her 'spasms' worked hard and seldom
broke things.
    The clothes smelled clean, and if the breeze held they should
dry nicely by sunset. Marietta stretched wearily, and straightened her
aching back. She had awoken in the night and for at least an hour had
been quite unable to go back to sleep, thinking of poor Lady Pamela
Coville and her wicked son, but with her thoughts wandering often to
the dashing Mr. Blake Coville. It seemed that each time they met she
was more attracted to the gentleman whom common sense decreed she
should dismiss from her mind. He was the beau ideal of London. Rich,
handsome, perfectly formed, the heir to a baronetcy, and as kind and
mannerly as he was well born. In other words, the target of the eagle
eyes of countless match-making mamas. When she was near him, it seemed
that his every thought was of and for her; indeed he was so obviously
admiring that Papa was becoming hopeful of his spinster daughter
finally making a match that would restore their fortunes forever. Poor,
foolish Papa. Blake Coville was a gentleman in the fullest sense of the
word, and was likely courteous and attentive to every lady he met. As
for Miss Marietta Warrington, she might be passably pretty, but she had
no fortune to recommend her. Fortune, indeed! Far from a fortune, she
had a large family to be supported and not even a small dowry to lure a
husband!
    Reluctant to go back inside she stole a few minutes to wander
about and enjoy her surroundings. The dower house faced southwest and
had the advantage of the Channel view. The rear was lovely also, its
lawns and gardens blending into broad meadowland threaded by a
sparkling stream, and framed by the emerald swell of the Downs. Beyond
the cutting gardens Aunty Dova had worked miracles in what she termed
her 'food field,' and vegetables were thriving, the rows neat and
weedless. In the flower-beds the brilliance of roses was contrasted by
the bright simplicity of daisies, marigolds lifted glowing faces to the
sun, and pansies peeped shyly from the borders. The afternoon was warm
and several birds splashed and cavorted about in the bird-bath, while
Friar Tuck crouched under a stone bench, fancying himself invisible,
and preparing for another of his frequent and unfailingly futile
charges.
    A flock of starlings flew past and soared upward. How blue was
the sky. Such a glorious day. If they were still in Town, she thought
wistfully, she would likely be driving down to Richmond Park with Tim
Van Lindsay, or Freddy Foster, or— But the past was—past. This was
today, and there was much tor which to be thankful. They were all
together in a nice house in a very beautiful part of God's very
beautiful world. Most of the money from the sale of her own and