The Kiss by Sophia Nash Read Free Book Online

have one Wilde as steward and another Wilde as the questionable marchioness of the same manor.
    Quinn wrestled with the slightly rusted latch on the steward's residence and wended his way to the pretty rose-covered cottage. Its charm was slightly diminished as it needed a good whitewashing.
    His knuckles hadn't even reached the door when it swung open and Mrs. Wilde was revealed.
    "Quinn Fortesque!" the plump, graying lady exclaimed. "Mr. Wilde has been expecting you. My, how you've grown. Oh, you gave me a start. You always did have that look about you—like our dear Anthony. Such a pity." She tsked.
    He stiffened.
    "You simply must help my daughter. She won't listen to reason. Georgiana," she said without pausing to take a breath in her stream of conversation, "refuses to assume the role of marchioness. Refuses to take her rightful place."
    He bowed and then breathed in a scent he had completely forgotten. The lemony aroma of Mrs. Wilde's poppy-seed cakes wafted from the kitchen and brought back an unwanted flood of childhood memories.
    She preceded him down the cramped hall. "You were always such a good boy. I told my husband you would do the correct thing. The only fair thing. I know you will put a stop to that evil woman and her frightfully embarrassing inquiries. Georgiana is the rightful Marchioness of Ellesmere, don't you agree?"
    She took up a tray handed to her by the maid at the kitchen door and presented it to him.
    "Here, have a cake. I remember these were your favorite."
    "You always made the very best cakes in all of Cornwall, Mrs. Wilde," he murmured before popping a tiny cake into his mouth.
    "Oh, you're just being kind," she simpered. "But now that you mention it, they are better than anything Lady Gwendolyn Ellesmere served at Penrose. I keep telling Georgiana that we should all remove to the great house so her father and I can help her to manage everything."
    Thank the Lord they were in front of Mr. Wilde's study. He knocked and edged around the door, somehow managing to escape without her trailing him. He turned to find the steward at his desk.
    Oh God. It was much worse than he thought. It took every ounce of control not to jump to the man's side. He had grown gaunt and old since Quinn had last seen him. Why, the man must have lost three stone. Clearly, it was some sort of wasting illness.
    "Mr. Wilde," he said coming around the man's desk to shake his hand. His grasp was more firm than Quinn would have thought possible. "Please don't trouble yourself to stand."
    Mr. Wilde struggled to rise. "Nonsense, my lord."
    "Quinn. Please, I insist," he said quietly, and then helped the man regain his seat.
    "Well, well . . ." Mr. Wilde's eyes watered slightly as he tried to hold on to some semblance of formality. "It looks as if you've gone ahead and grown into the man I knew you would become."
    Quinn rested his hand on the frail gentleman's shoulder just as Mr. Wilde had used to do to him when he needed comfort or reassurance as a boy. A mere decade and a half had reversed their roles.
    There was something about seeing this humble man that made Quinn want to run as far and as fast from this place as possible. He refused to consider why he would want to run from the potent illusion of honesty and kindness.
    "I suspect," Wilde said, "you're thinking that I too have grown into the man you thought I'd become." He coughed once and gave a wry smile.
    "Nothing of the sort. I suspect you're still the most slave-driving steward in all of Cornwall." He forced himself to maintain a light tone despite his sadness. "And if I may hazard a guess, probably with the same well-honed propensity toward terrible puns."
    A light of humor filled the man's eyes. "It's always important to have a pun in the oven, you know." He chuckled. "I'm so glad you've finally come. I'm afraid there's been little humor here these days. Living like this, in such imbalance, has been a sore trial for Georgiana and Mrs. Wilde. But I knew you would come