Emily Hendrickson Read Online Free PDF Page B

she rose to meet him face-to-face.
    “I think your mother ought to be amused. She is not so young, as you must be aware. Allow her to enjoy herself. I promise to do all I can.”
    “And that is another thing. You are dismissed as of now.” He gave a dismissive wave of a hand in her direction. “You have disrupted this entire household, set things on end. This cannot be good for my mother.”
    She gave him a pitying look. “How would you know? You have not seen your mother in ages. I believe Christmas was the last time you drove down here, and that was for but a few days—most of which were spent out shooting.”
    “Not true. I came when she took ill.”
    He must have worn that expression when he was called before the dean at school. “Well, she didn’t know it. By the time she was well enough to be aware of things, you had returned to London.”
    “Young woman, you are impertinent!”
    “I imagine I am,” Drusilla said calmly. “It is so tiresome to be meek and humble. I cannot think why the meek are supposed to inherit the earth—they wouldn’t know what to do with it if they obtained it.”
    He coughed, as though something stuck in his throat.
    “I should like to know what makes you think I have turned the household upside down. Oh, I wish you would turn around and go back to London instead. Your mother might love you, but it is clear you truly do not care a pin for her feelings or what is best for her. I refuse to leave! You, sir”—she again pointed a slender finger at him—”are a worthless son!”
    “What?” He looked thunderstruck.
    “Well,” she said with caution, “no one is completely worthless. You must have some redeeming qualities.”
    “What makes you think you are a judge of character?”
    She gave him a level stare. “Perhaps it comes from living in the rectory?” She refused to back down, fixing her gaze on him, challenging him.
    He looked as though he might explode if she said another word. Turning on his heel, he left the room and was soon heard tromping up the stairs.
     

Chapter Three
     
    Adrian stormed into his rooms with more wrath than he could ever recall knowing. The unmitigated gall of that girl—to say that he “must have some redeeming qualities” was the outside of enough. Never in his life had anyone spoken to him in such a manner! She must go!
    Colyer entered the bedroom from where he had been stowing away Adrian’s clothing in the vast wardrobe. “Is anything amiss, my lord?”
    “Anything amiss?” He laughed, a harsh sound in the peace of the house. “Nothing I cannot handle. What have you learned so far?”
    “I moused around a trifle, knowing you are concerned about the young lady. From all accounts she should be granted sainthood. Right proper good lady, she is. She has taken over the jobs Priddy and Mrs. Simpson find difficult. You must know they are getting on in years, yet neither of them would wish to be pensioned off quite yet. Supervises the house admirably, I gather. Do you wish to learn more?”
    “By all means.” The more he knew about her, the more ammunition he might have, although sainthood was scarcely a disqualifying trait. And how they could claim she was saintly when she spoke her mind in such a manner was beyond him. Being reared in a rectory must account for that.
    He poured a glass of claret before crossing the room to stand by the windows. While staring out at the spring gardens beyond, so colorful and gay, the absurdity of it all hit him. That young woman—that mere chit—dared to scold him! It made no difference to her that he bore an ancient and respected title. She took him to task for ignoring his mother like he was a recalcitrant schoolboy.
    How amusing! He had thought that once he reached the ripe old age of thirty, he was able to cut the leading strings that attached him to filial duties. Apparently this young woman believed those strings were never to be cut.
    But the fact that she had the audacity to speak in such a