Carola Dunn by The Fortune-Hunters Read Free Book Online Page A

glanced up at the angels on their ladder. The changed angle of the sun now made the figures stand out in sharp relief.
    “I believe this will be the best time of day to sketch here,” she said as they walked on. “I shall come back tomorrow at this hour, weather permitting.”
    “It sounds as if you are a serious artist,” he said with some surprise.
    “Heavens, no! I draw purely for my own pleasure, but of all the genteel accomplishments I was forced to acquire, it is the one I enjoy most.”
    “Then you must bring your sketch book this afternoon. The view of Bath from Beechen Cliff is famous.”
    “The trouble with distant prospects is that everything tends to fade into a haze. It takes a painter to do justice to a landscape. Is it far to Beechen Cliff?”
    “Just across the river, where it swings to the west. There is a bridge at the end of Southgate Street. I daresay no more than half a mile as the crow flies, though the path winds up the steep part of the hill.”
    “I was thinking, sir—perhaps you might drive your curricle lest any of the ladies grow weary? Pray don’t suppose that I mean myself,” she added severely when he grinned. “Estates in the North are so large that I’m accustomed to riding ten miles across the fells to pay a morning call. An afternoon stroll is scarcely to be regarded as exercise.”
    “That is hardly an incentive to me to bring my curricle, if by driving I shall deprive myself of your company,” he pointed out. “However, I’ll have my groom bring it rather than risk having to carry some exhausted damsel home.”
    “As a matter of fact it was Mrs. Barlow I had in mind,” she said, laughing, as they reached her front door. “Thank you for bringing me home, sir. I shall see you at the Westgate Buildings at three.” She held out her hand and he bowed over it. A liveried footman opened the door and she entered without a backward glance.
    Matthew walked back the few steps to his own front door in a thoughtful mood. Whatever she said, he was convinced that the suggestion about his curricle was due to her concern for himself. There was nothing he could do about his limp, but he was beginning to wish he had never yielded to the impulse to invent a lung injury.
    He couldn’t make up his mind whether to be gratified by her solicitude or annoyed by her presumption. He’d be damned if he’d let her bully him into drinking that foul water again!
     

CHAPTER SIX
     
    “Sukey! Sukey, come quick. I’m going to wear the blue walking dress this afternoon and we must change the trim on my hat and parasol to match.” Jessica sped up the stairs to her chamber.
    The maid followed more slowly, wiping her hands on her grubby apron. It was that confusing never knowing whether she was housemaid, chambermaid or abigail, and a good job Ma had taught her to set her stitches neat as well as polish brass. She glanced back at Tad, crossing the hall below, and he winked at her. Right handsome he was in his livery, even if she knew that rolled up under the braided coat was the apron he wore for bringing in the coal. Lucky he saw Miss Jess had a gentleman with her in time to put on the coat afore he opened the door.
    Still an’ all, it was worth the masquerade if it meant Master Nathan—Sir Nathan as he was now—got to keep Langdale. There was no knowing which servants a new master would dismiss. ‘Sides, it wouldn’t be the same without Miss Jess. You couldn’t ask for a better mistress.
    “There’s t’silk cornflowers I put in t’drawer, miss,” she said, entering the chamber. “I can stick ‘em on your hat in a trice and turn the brim down ‘stead of up.”
    Jessica had already taken the new blue cambric gown from the wardrobe and was regarding it with approval.
    “Yes, that will do very well. And I’ll fashion a bow of blue ribbon to tie on the handle of the parasol. I’m glad I bought the white one after all.”
    “Mrs. Ancaster do say,” observed Sukey as she unpicked the