The Apple Blossom Bower (Historical Romance Novella) by Margaret Evans Porter Read Free Book Online Page B

bear!”
    “What lady?” the squire inquired.
    “Mr. Corston’s sister. Sir Edwin means to offer for her.”
    “He most certainly does not.”
    His conviction was unmistakable, but her doubts were not so easily vanquished. “I’d like to believe you, but—”
    “I’ve heard the truth of the matter from Sir Edwin’s lips. Indeed there is a lady he wants to wed, but her name is not Corston.”
    She clasped her hands in her lap to conceal the fact that they were shaking. “Oh, sir, you’ve misunderstood him. How could he marry Jem Kelland’s daughter?”
    The squire climbed to his feet. “My dear, your mother is an excellent woman, but you mustn’t be swayed by her false notions about Sir Edwin. He’s no more deterred by your father’s sad history than I was when I married your mother. He cares even less about your relationship to me, and my position in the neighborhood. I’ve no cause to question his honor, no more have you. There, that brings the smile back to your face,” he observed with pleasure. “Would that your suitor could see you now! He’s a splendid fellow, Annis, and very nearly worthy of you.”
    Mixed with joy was shame at her longtime prejudice against her guardian. Not only had he demonstrated an interest in her welfare and provided solace, he was a more objective advisor than her overly judgmental mother.
    Rising, she said, “I hardly deserve that commendation, sir. I’ve not been a true daughter to you. For that I am sorry.”
    He cupped her cheek. “All these years I tried so hard to win your affection that I must have chased it away. What’s past is past. Be assured that you can come to me for advice at any time. Your comfort and happiness are important to me.”
    Even in a state of delirious excitement, Annis didn’t forget to wash her face with the elderflower water before going to bed that night. If Sir Edwin had informed her stepfather that he had marriage in mind, something she still had difficulty accepting, it was imperative that she rid herself of her freckles. In order to derive the greatest benefit from the concoction she bathed her cheeks a second time.
     
    * * *
     

 
    ~ Chapter 4 ~
     
     
    “T hese hangings are entirely too dark for this room,” Edwin pronounced while fingering a sun-faded damask curtain. “I should’ve replaced them when I took up residence here.”
    His housekeeper hunched her shoulders diffidently and lisped through the great gap in her front teeth, “S’all I take ’em down, then? Not sure I’ve got strength enough for it—my back plagues me powerful bad today.”
    “Never mind, it can wait until after I’m—” Reconsidering, Edwin chose not to inform her of his marital aspirations. “It needn’t been done immediately.”
    He turned away from the window to study the room with newly critical eyes. It was gloomily masculine in its appointments and excessively cluttered, the antithesis of the cheerful simplicity of the parlor at Orchard Place.  His ancestors’ ancient fowling pieces, however decorative, rightfully belonged in the gun room. And he’d never miss the framed painting of a battle scene between opposing armies. Would Annis like that stuffed pheasant in the glass case? Edwin wasn’t at all sure he cared for it. And he definitely intended to remove the rack of antlers hanging on the wall, adorned with cobwebs spun by generations of spiders. The trophies, so dear to his great-grandfather, had no meaning for him and would have still less for his future bride.
    “Send for some village girls to come in,” he told his elderly retainer. “Get as many of them as you need for a very thorough cleaning of the house, from garret to cellar.”
    “Aye, sir.” The housekeeper merely bobbed her head, for her arthritic legs prevented her from curtsying, something she hadn’t been able to do since long before Edwin had taken possession of his inheritance.
    A few minutes after her departure Garth Corston entered the parlor, a strip