Aunt Dimity and the Summer King by Nancy Atherton Read Free Book Online Page A

Finch,” I stated firmly. “I’m on it, Dimity. Bess and I will find out everything we can and report back to you.”
    A knock sounded on the study door. I looked over my shoulder and smiled as Bill entered the room, carrying Bess.
    â€œNearly time to pick up the boys,” he said apologetically. “I’ve changed Bess’s diaper, but she insists on having the one thing I can’t give her.”
    â€œGotta go, Dimity,” I said. “Bess is hungry.”
    Kiss her for me, my dear.
    â€œYou know I will,” I said, and as the graceful lines of royal-blue ink began to fade from the page, I closed the journal.
    Bill and I exchanged book and baby and while Bill returned the journal to its shelf, I readied myself for mealtime.
    â€œI meant to tell you,” he said, “Father has invited us to a welcome- to-Fairworth dinner for my aunts next Saturday—a week from today.” He sat on the arm of my chair and smoothed Bess’s wispy curls back from her forehead. “He’d like us to be there by eight. Formal attire, naturally.”
    I admired my father-in-law’s tactics. Willis, Sr., was aware of Bill’s antipathy toward Honoria and Charlotte. I suspected he’d delayed the official family gathering for a week in order to give his son a few extra days to gird himself for it. He’d also limited the amount of time Bill would have to spend with the Harpies: A dinner that started at eight o’clock could be politely concluded by ten.
    The meal’s formality was another clever touch. A casual brunch or a luncheon could be held in the conservatory, on the terrace, or in the rose garden at Fairworth House, but a formal dinner had to take place in the dining room. The dreaded reunion would, I thought, proceed more peacefully if Bill were separated from his aunts by the broad width of Willis, Sr.’s dining room table.
    â€œI hope your aunts won’t expect us to bring the boys,” I said. “Will and Rob have a hard time remembering to be formal at formal dinners.”
    â€œI couldn’t care less about my aunts’ expectations,” said Bill. “I’ve already made arrangements for the boys. They’ll spend the weekend with Emma at Anscombe Manor.”
    â€œYou’ve thought of everything,” I said, impressed. “We’ll bring Bess with us, of course. If she needs forty winks or a feed, she and I will repair decorously to William’s nursery.”
    â€œI call dibs on diaper changes,” Bill said instantly.
    â€œNow, there’s a sentence I never thought you’d utter,” I said, giggling.
    â€œNeeds must,” Bill grumbled.
    â€œWill you be at Fairworth House on Monday to welcome your aunts?” I asked, though I thought I knew the answer.
    â€œNo can do,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll be tied up at the office all week, working on Didier Pinot’s revised will.”
    â€œHas he revised it again?” I said, surprised. Bill’s fractious client had, to my knowledge, revised his will seven times since January.
    â€œI may have suggested that Monsieur Pinot review the section concerning his collection of medieval artifacts,” Bill admitted, studying his fingernails. “He was going to leave the skulls to his third niece, but I think they’ll be better off with his second nephew.”
    â€œWhat a convenient suggestion,” I said, arching an eyebrow.
    â€œI had to do something,” he said. “Work is the only excuse the Harpies will accept for my absence.” He frowned down at me. “You’re not planning to roll out the red carpet for them, are you?”
    â€œI’m not planning on it,” I said, “but if Amelia asks me to come over, I will. She hasn’t met Charlotte and Honoria before. She may need my support.”
    â€œNo,” Bill declared adamantly, getting to his feet. “I can’t let you