Rhyme and Reason by Jo Ann Ferguson Read Free Book Online

and her eyes, which like Mama’s were slightly tilted, although she had inherited their blue color from Papa. The painting had blurred the high cheekbones she shared with her mother’s family.
    As Emily picked her way through the messy chamber, her father shouted to his valet, “Where is my black waistcoat, Bollings? It always brings me luck.”
    “Mr. Talcott, you sent it to the tailor after you discovered a rip beneath the left arm,” replied the valet.
    Emily offered Bollings a sympathetic smile as she asked, “Papa, you wanted to talk to me?”
    Charles Talcott peeked around the dressing room door. With a broad smile, he motioned for her to sit.
    Papa was still uncommonly handsome, although silver was woven through his hair that was as light as Miriam’s. The passage of years had not slowed his step or his wit. Since Miriam’s coming-out, Emily had seen how her father could charm any lady—be she young or a dowager. Charles Talcott loved life and all its pleasures, and, for years, life had been benevolent to him and his family.
    Then five years ago his second wife had died. Before her death, Papa seldom had gone out. Now he was so infrequently home. Emily wondered if he always had wished to be out, or did he leave every evening for a game of chance because the very sight of Miriam reminded him of his lost love for her mother Marlene? She could not guess, and she refused to ask, not wanting to resurrect the grief he vowed was buried with her stepmother.
    Papa tossed another shirt onto the bed and ignored the pained expression on his valet’s face. Stopping in front of the glass between the two windows, he began tying his cravat.
    When he cursed and undid the mess he had made, Emily rose. “Would you like some help with that, Papa?”
    “What would I do without you? Your stepmother always tended to this for me, and I swear I shall never learn a young sprig’s tricks. You shall make some lucky buck a fine wife.” He smiled as she finished tying his cravat. “You have a pensive expression, ma chérie . What is bothering you?”
    “Why don’t you tell me why you wanted to talk with me?” She sat again. “Or was it for nothing but doing your cravat?”
    He collected his boots and dropped into a chair. “I wish to know how your evening passed.”
    “Miriam danced often.”
    “With one man?”
    “With several.”
    “Good.” He pushed on the boot, then stood to force his heel into it. “I thought she would find her first Season enjoyable.” Reaching past her, he picked up a folded newspaper. “However, it appears you were much the center of attention yourself, ma chérie .”
    Emily tossed the newspaper back onto the bed. “Papa, that is prattle. I spent most of last evening trying to convince Mr. Colley that others would savor his company more than I.”
    He laughed. “If all is going so well, why do you look so uneasy?”
    “Because of Lord Wentworth.”
    His lips straightened into a taut smile. Turning away to look in the glass, he pulled on his coat.
    She tensed. She had not expected the mere mention of the viscount’s name to bring the same cold reaction from Papa as it had from Miriam.
    “Did you encounter him at Miss Prine’s coming-out?” Papa asked. “Not that I would expect such a rakehell to be interested in that tame fare.”
    “Lord Wentworth brought you home.”
    For a long minute, she was unsure if he would answer. Then he faced her. For once, his face revealed his years. “The companions I choose for myself are not the same ones I would choose for you and Miriam.”
    “Miriam is scared of him.”
    “Good.”
    “But, Papa, what happened last night?” She stood slowly. “You are no brandy-face, yet you couldn’t stand alone, and you left your hat in the viscount’s carriage.”
    He frowned. “So that is where it went to. I must speak to Wentworth about it on the next occasion we meet.”
    “No need. He returned it.”
    “ He is calling here?”
    Emily was startled, for