Rowena (Regency Belles Series Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

‘Now, Matthew, ancient wars are ancient wars but a wedding is a wedding.’
    ‘Oh ho,’ Edward said. ‘That will please the ladies. Who’s the unlucky man?’
    ‘Now dear, you mean lucky. It’s Lord Conniston. He’s been much at Southwold Hall of late.’
    ‘Southwold?’ Edward grinned. ‘So Rowena’s captured a goodun then?’
    ‘Now that is vulgar talk. And it’s not Rowena. She’s over twenty, almost beyond any idea of a husband now. No, it’s Amabelle.’
    All the humour left Edward’s face. ‘ ’Bella and Conniston? You can’t mean it. She’s only out this year. And he’s ancient.’
    His Mama folded her hands triumphantly in her lap. ‘I thought that would surprise you. At one time Papa and I thought you two might try to make a go of it. Not that that would have suited. No, Lord Conniston must have much more appeal to Sir Richard. And he’s not ancient. I doubt he’s much into his thirties.’
    Edward scowled. Only having a brother, he had long regarded Amabelle as the younger sister he had never had. ‘That’s still too old for ’Bella.’
    ‘Well, there’s bound to be an announcement soon.’
    Matthew bounced up from his chair. ‘Oh, come on, Eddie, do. Abbie dropped her pups last month. Seven of them. All fine except the last . . . he’s a bit weedy but he’s doing well.’
    His mother sighed. ‘Away with you then. Go and see Abbie. Matthew’s been with her every day since.’ She flapped her hand. ‘Go on. Papa should be free by the time you return. You can pay yours respects to him then, Edward.’
    Edward collected his coat. Both boys bowed to their mother then the younger hustled the elder unceremoniously out of the room.
    Florence Marchment shook her head from side to side causing the lace tails on her cap to flutter. She lifted a copy of
The Ladies Companion
and addressed her interest to an article therein on the most efficacious way of preparing a hare for jugging. She must show it to cook.
    Down in the stables prone on a sheaf of hay, Edward looked at the last and smallest of Abbie’s seven pups his brother held out to him.
    ‘Here, now you’ve seen all of them. I’m going to call him Mimimus ’cos he’s the smallest. He’s weaned though.’ He smiled at Edward. ‘Eddie? What’s amiss?’
    Edward pulled himself into the present. ‘Sorry, Matt, something just crossed my mind.’ He took the squirming little bundle. ‘Minimus is good. Have you named the others?’ Matthew shook his head. With a gritty effort of will, Edward helped his brother select six more names.

Chapter Four
    N ext morning after a comfortable night in his old bedroom and a late breakfast of thickly-sliced ham and pound cake, Edward had Jessie, his father’s oldest, most placid mare, saddled and set off for Southwold Hall. It was not an easy ride. Not because Jessie would have much preferred to stay chomping grass in the sunny top meadow, which she would and was letting him know it, but because he was attempting to balance a wicker basket on the pommel of his saddle. To make it worse, the wicker basket was not empty. And it was moving. The second of Abbie’s pups was making determined attempts to escape from the old jacket tucked round it, and whimpering all the time. The sound was unnerving Jessie so none of the three was happy.
    The route to Southwold Hall took Edward through Fincham Wortly, a route that added to his problems. Several of his parents’ friends, in fact most of them, appeared to have decided today was one for promenading along the main street, looking in shop windows or peering over market stalls and hailing whichever of their own friends they chanced upon. Every one of them who set eyes on him called Edward to a halt to exclaim how delighted they were to see him. The gentlemen enquired about life at university and how it must have changed since they were there, or not, as the case may have been. The ladies declared upon how pleased his dear Mama must be to have him home