Seducing Mr. Heywood by Jo Manning

Author:Jo Manning [Manning, Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780451215000
Publisher: Signet
Published: 2002-05-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Its I hev’ been to Weyhill Fair,

An’ Oh what sights did I see there,

To hear my tale ’ud make you stare…

—William Cobbett,

The Weyhill Fair,

19th century poem

The fresh-faced footman, Fred, had brought in another letter. It lay on the chased silver tray, white and plump, embossed with a red wax seal. Lady Sophia picked it up with no little curiosity. Her second missive in as many weeks! She recollected, with no regret, the masses of invitations she was wont to receive in London as she was a favorite, a leading hostess and partygoer, among the ton. So many…and so forgettable. Had she ever truly enjoyed those crowded, noisy events? She picked up the letter and broke the seal.

It was from someone she did not know. She pursed her lips, considering the request. She would have to speak to Charles; perhaps he knew these people. But Tuesday was not one of the days he came to Rowley Hall for the boys’ lessons; she would have to send for him.

Fred was awaiting milady’s pleasure. He was a tall boy; footmen were hired for their height. Sophia frowned. There was a bruise on his jaw. Were her servants engaging in amateur fisticuffs? Ah, well, men will be men, she thought, and the pugilists Mendoza and Cribb were heroes, both to the common men and the men of the ton. She refrained from commenting on it.

“Fred, would you please walk to the vicarage and ask Mr. Heywood to come here this morning if his schedule allows it? I need to confer with him.”

The boys were in the stables discussing the upcoming fair with Lord Brent when the vicar arrived on horseback. Charles frowned. When were these London visitors going to leave? Brent was becoming an annoyance, too much in the company of the boys and Lady Sophia for his peace of mind. I am jealous, he thought. Envy is one of the seven deadly sins…as is Lust.…

John rushed to greet Charles as he dismounted. A stable boy came to take the reins. “Mr. Heywood, sir! Lord Brent has been telling us of the Nottingham fairs, where he saw geese being driven to market in the springtime. Did you know, sir, that the drovers often encased the feet of the geese in little cloth shoes?”

The big man sauntered over, at ease with his body and his good looks, Charles could not help noting, as he enlarged upon his story. “Lads, I saw great gaggles of geese, thousands strong, being driven by gooseherds and bonneted young goose-girls with crooks. They were weeks on the road, these creatures, on their way to becoming some family’s holiday dinner, having been plucked of their feathers at least twice, their down at least five times.”

Brent turned and squatted beside the boys, who had taken seats on a large bale of hay, entranced by the bizarre story. “I did myself see the cunning cloth shoes, once or twice, but more often the geese were fitted for their long journey, some eighty

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