Lord Greywell's Dilemma by Laura Matthews Read Free Book Online Page A

difference in his household? Nonsense. There was no saying the woman would be any more sympathetic to his son than all the others. If she entered the nursery, wouldn’t she be as infected by despair as all the others?
    Did he owe it to his son to at least meet Elspeth Parkstone?
     

Chapter Three
     
    A hard frost had set in at Lyndhurst. The trees were almost bare of leaves and dark branches stood stark against the wintry sky. It was early yet for snow, but Elspeth wouldn’t have been surprised to see the odd flurry of flakes descend as she hurried toward the house thumping her gloved hands against her sides to keep them warm. The ground was hard under her booted feet, and her toes felt numb from her ride. Her mare had needed exercising, but it had been too cold to stay out long, the icy wind whipping through her hair and turning her nose red. The fact that her appearance was totally disheveled didn’t bother her in the least. Her only intention now was to head for the Gold Saloon, where a fire would be blazing.
    If Elspeth had taken the mare into the stable, she would have noticed the extra horses and the extra men, but her groom had met her in the stableyard and led Minstrel straight in to be rubbed down. The lad was more interested in caring for her horse than in gossiping about the visitor who had arrived, which ordinarily would have pleased Elspeth. Grooms, she had noticed, were frequently less interested in people than they were in horses, and consequently it was not usually in the stable that rumor and gossip abounded. On this particular occasion she would have appreciated a warning, but Tommy had no way of knowing that, and had merely said, “Cold as an icehouse this afternoon, ain’t it?”
    Which had led her to think about icehouses and the possibility of serving ices at the summer fete as a special treat. They’d never tried it before and it would certainly provide an interesting novelty which the fetes under Mr. Blockley’s direction frequently lacked. As a footman opened the door to her she was wondering where she should jot down the idea so she would be sure to remember it when next summer came.
    “Is my father in?” she asked.
    “In the Gold Saloon, Miss Parkstone. He asked that you join him there.” The footman did not add that Sir Edward had a visitor, since Sir Edward had strictly instructed him not to.
    Elspeth thanked him and stripped her gloves from her cold hands. The footman relieved her of them, and her rumpled bonnet, and preceded her to the parlor, where he elaborately swung open the door. Elspeth didn’t notice this uncharacteristic gesture of elegance, since she was in the process of tucking her hair back under the pins which had come loose. She stopped abruptly on the threshold, her fingers twined in her windblown tresses, when she realized her father was not alone in the room.
    Beside him, rising now from one of the Queen Anne chairs, was an unfamiliar gentleman whose height alone reminded her of Mr. Blockley. Nothing else about him bore the slightest resemblance. He had dark hair, brushed forward in the fashionable mode à la Brutus, and on him it looked natural. Elspeth had seen a half-dozen of the younger blades in Aylesbury on whom it looked perfectly ridiculous.
    This fellow, too, wore a starched cravat with delicate, intricate folds, and a well-cut black coat of superfine, but rather than projecting an air of high fashion, he somehow struck her as terribly sad. It was probably his face that gave the impression, she thought.
    Though he was no more than a half-dozen years older than she, Elspeth guessed, his countenance had a careworn quality, with lines etched about his eyes and his mouth. Only the prominent, strong chin and the finely chiseled nose retrieved his appearance from being grim. He studied her now with melancholy eyes whose color she could not determine across the room, and his mouth never curved into a smile when he acknowledged her introduction. His voice, rather