His Christmas Nymph by Marly Mathews Read Free Book Online Page A

yet. Did he have to walk? He thought he would have a coach given his yearly income. While quite measly compared to what Edward commanded a year, Griffiths’ income should sustain him well enough to keep a carriage, for he knew that Griffiths owned a small estate in Wales that gave them their yearly income.
    He knew his father had provided well for Margaret, gifting her with Banbury House and arranging for a yearly income for the family most of which made up the money that Benjamin Griffiths pulled in each year. The income had been quite generous giving him more a year than what his small Welsh estate pulled in.
    The fact that Gertrude was making Caroline suffer so made him see red. Most of the money that Griffiths had was just as much Caroline’s as it was his. He had Margar et and her love for the Hugh Rochester to thank for everything. He should have confessed the entire truth of Margaret and Hugh’s relationship to Caroline. Alas, he had been unable to do it. He didn’t want to shatter the romanticism of the tale he’d told instead.
    If Caroline knew the bitter truth, he wondered if she would still be willing to marry him. If it changed her mind he would not be able to bear it as thoughts of her had held his attention all of last night and most of the morning.
    She was a beguiling creature, and she had wound her way into his heart rather quickly and rather forcefully. She had spirit unlike any other women he’d met. If Margaret was anything like Caroline, he knew his father had despised himself every single day of his life for acting like such a cad toward Margaret. Now, he could sympathize with him.
    Finally, after yea rs of attempting to figure his father out—he knew exactly why he’d been constantly morose and never could quite embrace his son. Edward knew his father had loved him. Despite that whenever his father had looked at him, he had looked at him with guarded eyes, haunted eyes. Almost as if he half hated his son for being the child of his wife—for being the singular reason why he had to marry Genevieve.
    On his part, his half French ancestry had worked in his favo ur during the Wars and he’d used them to the benefit of his King and Country.
    He supposed he should feel lucky that his mother had been able to persuade his father to do the right thing, and marry her. And had he not been born in his father’s image he knew his father would have continuously wondered if he were, in fact, a Rochester.
    “Summon Mr. Fenton,” he said, turning to one of his footmen, as the doors were open to the Library.
    “Yes, sir.” The footman hurried off.
    He let out an impatient growl, and continued with his pacing, hands clasped behind his back.
    “Your Grace, you wanted me?” Mr. Fenton, his Steward, stood nervously in the doorway to the Library.
    “Come in here, man,” he growled.
    Fenton did as he bid, and came to stand by the fireplace.
    “Didn’t you tell that infernal man that I wanted to meet with him, posthaste?”
    “I did as you asked, sir. I gave him the letter you had written and then told him that you wanted him at Whitney Park as quickly as possible—that you wanted him to meet you before luncheon today.”
    “Apparently, that gentleman doesn’t know how to follow instructions to the letter,” he sighed heavily. If he didn’t have this matter concerning Caroline settled soon he was going to go out of his mind. He wanted her so badly. He had to make it official. He had to know she was his to have!
    Blast and damn, his future father-in-law was a complete and utter vexation!
    * * * * *
    Caroline’s heart was as light as air. She descended the staircase of Banbury House as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
    “Papa, I am ready to go.”
    He emerged from his office with his hair once again mussed up. He looked as if he’d been pacing again.
    “Papa, you mustn’t look so furtive. You look as if you’re going to the hangman’s noose.”
    “I feel as if I’m going there, my dear. I