Miss Lindel's Love by Cynthia Bailey Pratt Read Free Book Online Page B

fawning attentions. She behaved as though I were any gentleman of her acquaintance.” He recalled soft blue eyes widening as she recognized him and then, shyness passing, the smile that warmed them as she responded with interest to his conversation.
    “She knew who you were,” Dom mused. Kenton looked at his friend sharply, something odd about his tone drawing his attention out from his reverie.
    “Yes. What of it?”
    “I wonder if anyone does know who you are, Ken-ton. I wonder if you know.”
    “What have you been drinking?” Kenton asked with a laughing look toward the pewter pot. “Champagne by the pint?
    “Can you say you’ve been content these last few years?”
    “Content? Who wouldn’t be? I do what I please. I am answerable to no one.”
    “I thought not,” Dom said with an odious superiority.
    Kenton weighed his glass significantly and Dom held up a hand as though to ward off the missile. “In truth, it’s a bad life for men like us. We’ve been raised on the dogma of duty. Having no duty to do leaves us too much time to brood.”
    “I don’t brood like some dashed poetical hero,” Kenton said, revolted by the notion. “I am constantly occupied. In town, I have a large acquaintance and a place of some note in society. At home, I have my tenants and my roses. The shooting lodge is occupation enough in the autumn and I am never at a loss for invitations in the winter, unless I choose to spend it at Finchley Place.” He thought of something. “Did I tell you that my West Indian agent has managed to nick the nick at last? I received an express from him two days ago from Plymouth.”
    Dom shook his head as if trying to rattle his thoughts into place. Noticing that the fair hair flew about his face, Kenton made a mental note to have his own man give Dom a new touch before they went to Boodle’s. Not that he would be ashamed of Dom in any circumstances, no more than he would have been ashamed to be seen with the notoriously untidy Dr. Johnson had he lived in an earlier London. The best thing for Dom would be to win the title so long contested between opposing branches of his family. Then he would have both genius and wealth, becoming, in effect, his own sponsor.
    “Roses,” Dom said, with no great admiration in his tone. “Gardening is no fit occupation for a man who took double firsts in history and logic.”
    “On the contrary.” Kenton tried to keep his temper. There was no profit in growing annoyed with Dom. He would simply burrow into his books until the storm passed. “They are exceedingly difficult plants to grow. Half the insects in England consider roses their favorite meal. Not to mention leaf-rot, black-spot...”
    “Spare me.”
    “Then again, trying to propagate new species would try the patience of a Newton. The grafting is difficult enough but starting new plants is enough to break your heart. I had half the forcing house damp off a month ago. A very promising shade of crimson.”
    “Damp off? Sounds like what you did to poor Mrs. Armitage.”
    “Worse. She’ll make a recovery, very soon indeed if I know my Flora. Indeed, I’m sure I can name my successor.” Kenton paused and smiled at his own folly. “I wonder if I pursued her because her name means ‘Flower.’ ”
    “Heaven preserve you if you ever meet a Rose.”
    “I hope I’m not so trite,” Kenton answered and wondered what Miss Lindel’s Christian name was. That Paladin woman had said it but he’d not been attending, having just caught sight of Flora. He rather thought it began with an N or an M.
    “Who looks after these sickly infants while you are coming the gallant in London?”
    “My man Bledsoe undoubtedly enjoys my absence more than my presence, since he may rule the roost without my interference. Yet—alas for Bledsoe—I shall probably return to Finchley Place as soon as Chavez arrives. The sooner the new plants are in their pots and tended, the better.”
    “What treasures are