Larken Read Online Free PDF Page A

down again.
    “It’s lovely to see you again, Lord Apollo.” She sank into a deep curtsy. “Very lovely indeed.”

    Six weeks passed during which Larken was left to her own devices. The rose bushes were in full bloom by that time, so she cut some of the flowers, removed the thorns, and hung them by a string upside down. While they dried, she wove a wreath of willow branches to fashion a frame for the roses. When it was ready, she hung it in the room Nell had prepared for Mr. King’s ward, Myles.
    “Isn’t that pretty!” Nell exclaimed. “It brings a lovely splash of color.”
    “Thank you. The adjacent sitting room will make a nice play area for the lad, but we haven’t any toys for him,” Larken said. “Do you suppose Mr. King plans to furnish any?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “I’ll ask him when he arrives. In the meantime, I’ll canvas the attic for whatever I can find.”
    “You’ve quite transformed your sitting room, I noticed!”
    She laughed. “My foster parents never appreciated my fanciful nature, but I can’t seem to help myself. I hope Myles likes it.”
    “It’s very kind of you to worry about the boy.”
    “Not at all. I only wish I’d had someone to care about me after I was orphaned.”
    Over the next few days, Larken busied herself in the attic, searching for playthings. She finally found a chest of old toys which she lugged down the stairs and into Myles’ playroom. Inside the chest were a Noah’s Ark with carved animals, a spinning tin top, a jumping jack, toy boats made of wood, several jigsaw puzzles, a cloth bag full of beautiful marbles, and an assortment of droll hand puppets. Although some of the items were scratched and chipped, they were still serviceable. Larken touched up the scratches with paint and spent several pleasant afternoons playing with the puppets on the oriental rug.
    Voices startled her as she was in the midst of devising a drama between a puppet jester and His Royal Majesty.
    “It’s nearly teatime,” a deep, unfamiliar male voice rang out from the hallway. “Give the lad something to eat, please.”
    “Right away, sir,” Mrs. Mason said. “We’ve set up a playroom for the young master in there. Excuse me while I fetch the tea.”
    The door burst open, and a man filled the doorframe. Larken scrambled to her feet. Although she hadn’t really ever known what he looked like, from the full, dark brown beard and longish hair, she assumed she was in the presence of her husband. As he regarded her with the puppets, an incredulous expression came over his face.
    “Who the devil are you, and which idiot gave you permission to get into my things?”
    He thinks I’m a servant. In a way, that’s exactly what I am.
    “You did, when you married me.”
    Mr. King looked taken aback. “Oh, it’s you.” His gaze swept over the toys. “These belonged to my brother and me when we were children. I suppose someone should get use out of them, but I’ll order some new ones.” He gave her a curt nod. “Carry on.”
    Annoyed, she bobbed up and down in a curtsy. “Aye, aye, sir.”
    His eyes narrowed at her temerity. “What’s your name again?”
    “Mrs. King,” she snapped.
    “Your Christian name.”
    “Larken.”
    “Why are you dressed in those rags, Larken?”
    She glanced down at her dusty gown, which had become even more worn over the last few weeks from her efforts in the attic. In addition, her hands were still encased in puppets. Her chin lifted even as her face burst into flames.
    “This is what I wear when I’m doing something useful.”
    His eyes stared pointedly at the puppets. “Clearly. Well, change into something else before you meet the boy. I don’t want him to suppose you’re the scullery maid.” He paused. “And burn that dress. I never want to see you wearing it again.”
    The man left. Larken knew it was childish, but she stuck her tongue out at the space he’d just occupied. Mr. Brandon King had all the warmth of a dead fish,