A Country Wooing Read Online Free PDF Page B

sat down.
    “There was no hurry.”
    “Rob doesn’t even care for wine. It was the idea of it that appealed to him. I prefer sherry myself now, not port. I like ritual—that’s one thing I learned in Spain. It was the family rituals I missed—birthdays, Christmas, May Day.” He was no longer rubbing his shoulder, but he sat stiffly, careful not to move it.
    “Are you not feeling well, Alex? Surely your wound is not bothering you after all this time.”
    “Nothing to speak of. No proper medication was available on the boat, and it’s become a little inflamed. I’ll have my batman take a look at it before I retire.”
    “But is it not healed? I thought after such a long time it must be only a scar. You should have Dr. Palmsey look at it.”
    “I’ll call him tomorrow.”
    “It must have been a very bad wound! You told Aunt Tannie you were only grazed by the bullet.’’
    “It was grazed rather deeply,” he admitted. “I thought you would know by my tardy return that I’d become a Belem Ranger.”
    “What on earth is that?”
    “A soldier who overstays his welcome at the Belem Convalescent Barracks. Malingerers, who are gun-shy.”
    His sudden wince was enough to tell her that Alex was not of that class. “Is it very painful?” she asked.
    “I shouldn’t have lifted Babe on my knee. I think I’d better have it looked at. I’ll be right back.”
    “No, go to bed. You look pale as a sheet, Alex. We’ll chat awhile to Aunt Tannie and leave early.”
    He looked alarmed. “No! Don’t go. The children will be retiring right away. We haven’t had a chance to talk. I want to give you and Auntie your presents.”
    “You can do it tomorrow.”
    “Please stay. I shan’t be a moment,” he said, and left before she had time to insist.
    Robin crossed the room to take up his brother’s place on the sofa. “Where’s Alex off to?” he asked.
    “His shoulder is bothering him.”
    “I told him he wasn’t fit to ride this morning, but he said he’d be damned if a dragoon was going to arrive at Rosedale seated in a carriage like a lady. Simple vanity, you see. The curse of the Penholmes—present company always excepted,” he added, smiling.
    “It wasn’t bothering him this morning.”
    “Maybe it was rearranging the master bedroom that did it. He wouldn’t sleep in Charlie’s bed last night, and was so eager to be rid of it this afternoon that he gave the footmen a hand dragging it out.”
    “What?”
    Robin, though he wouldn’t harm a fly, had a thoughtless tongue. “Uh-oh! Maybe I wasn’t supposed to mention it. Alex didn’t say not to. You must know there was no love lost between them, Annie.”
    Her pity congealed to anger. “I didn’t know Alex had this unreasonable hatred of Charles. To refuse to sleep in his bed—it hardly sounds rational. My goodness, the man is dead. Why can’t everyone forget that he wasn’t perfect?”
    “I daresay it will come, with time.”
    Robin went on to discuss Sawburne, and across the room, Aunt Tannie poured a litany of complaints into Mrs. Wickfield’s ears. “He said he was ashamed to have the children seen in public in rags. ‘So am I, sir!’ says I. ‘And ashamed to appear in Mumbleton’s without paying something on the bill. You can’t make jackets and shins out of spiderwebs.’ As to the house being dirty with a dozen maids sitting on their haunches drinking tea, people expect to be paid when they work.”
    “It will be all right, Aunt Tannie. Alex is back now.”
    He hadn’t returned some fifteen minutes later when the children were sent off to bed. Anne went to the foot of the great staircase with them just as Alex came down. He was still pale but in less distress than before. He stopped to say good night to the children, and Anne turned to go back to the saloon.
    “Wait!” he said, and put his hand on her arm to detain her.
    Physical touching was part and parcel of the exuberance of the Penholmes. They weren’t the typical English