A Lady of True Distinction by Grace Burrowes

Author:Grace Burrowes
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781941419694
Publisher: Grace Burrowes Publishing

Chapter Fifteen

“You will please keep the children indoors, Fenny.” Margaret paced the length of the family parlor, which in the course of a pretty Friday morning had shrunk to the emotional space of a broom closet.

“They will not leave the house, I promise, ma’am. The girls are working on an illustrated book of adventures, and I doubt I could entice them into the garden if I wanted to.”

Margaret had heard about those adventures on her visit to the nursery. An intrepid wise woman had fallen into an old mine shaft while foraging for parsnips, an accident that could all too easily have been taken from real life.

“What of sums?” Margaret said, her gaze straying for the hundredth time to the back garden below the window. “They haven’t done any sums this week.”

“Why should they?” Fenny set aside her embroidery hoop. “Both of them wrangle sums as if they had abacuses in their little heads. I suppose they get that from you.”

The usual response—But the children are not related to me—seemed pointless. “Then they should work on subtractions, or perhaps it’s time to introduce multiplication. Greta already seems to grasp the concept.”

While Margaret could not hold a thought in her head. Spring fever afflicted her, or Hawthorne fever, more likely. The day was glorious, also Friday, when he’d asked her to dress for a walking excursion. This feeling halfway between glee and worry was new to her. Neither Charles nor Lucas had inspired anything of the kind, though she’d liked, been attracted to, and grown attached to both men.

“Mr. Dorning will be here soon,” Fenny said. “Perhaps you should wait for him by the fountain.”

“One doesn’t want to appear too eager.”

“You and Mr. Dorning are to be married. You are allowed to be eager. After all your years tending to Saint Charles, and more years tending to his nieces, the notion that somebody has come along to tend to you for a change rather pleases me.”

“Thank you, Fenny. It’s just that—”

There he was, emerging from the woods. Hawthorne wore riding attire—wore it very well—and was bareheaded.

“He is easy on the eyes, isn’t he?” Fenny said, joining Margaret at the window. “Away with you, and enjoy your walk. I’ll see how the intrepid wise woman has fared at the bottom of her mine shaft.”

Margaret took one more moment to admire the sight of Hawthorne Dorning crossing the garden at an easy prowl, then whirled for the door. “Start on multiplication, Fenny. The girls are ready for it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And Margaret was ready to be free of the house, free from Fenny’s knowing smile, free from everything. Hawthorne stopped by the fountain, his expression suggesting he’d caught sight of her as soon as she’d stepped out of the house. Margaret kept walking, down the terrace steps, along the paved path, straight into Hawthorne’s open arms.

“Mr. Dorning, good day.” Oh Lord, he smelled good. Of woods, leather, peppermint toothpowder, shaving soap, and springtime.

His embrace closed around her, secure and precious. “Mrs. Summerfield. I hope you’re well.

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