Miss Prestwick's Crusade Read Online Free PDF Page B

aside—had responded to something in Miss Prestwick. A voice within told him as clearly as if the words had been spoken aloud that he must not let this woman slip away from him. Not before he had a chance to investigate the possibilities of ... what might be.
    And then, of course, there was William. There was no question he owed it to his family—and, he supposed, to Chris—to discover the true facts regarding William's birth and the legitimacy of his claim.
    Lord! His family! What would their reaction be to Miss, Prestwick? Their immediate instinct, he was sure, would be to band together to eject her and her preposterous assertion, to say nothing of young William, from the sacred precincts of Whitehouse Abbey. On the other hand . . .
    He tapped his chin for several seconds, sure the sound of his furiously churning brain must be evident to the woman gazing at him so relievedly.
    He moved to the bell pull, tugging decisively before turning back to his guest.
    "I think our first step,” he said, smiling, “is to get young Will settled in the nursery. After that, I shall introduce you to my—mine and Christopher's—family."
    When Stebbings arrived, Edward directed him to summon Mrs. Hobart, the housekeeper. That lady arrived in a few moments, the keys at her belt fairly vibrating with curiosity. Briefly, Edward put her in possession of the bare facts of the situation, namely that Miss Prestwick and Miss Barnstaple, with their small charge, would be guests at the Abbey for an indefinite stay. He instructed her to commandeer one of the maids to act as nursemaid.
    "And please show the ladies to their chambers,” he concluded, mentally crossing his fingers that suitable chambers were ready and presentable.
    "Of course, my lord,” responded Mrs. Hobart austerely. His lordship was well aware that a sufficient number of bedchambers was always kept in readiness for unexpected guests.
    "I know you will make all right, Mrs. Hobart."
    Edward turned once again to his guest. “And when you are settled in, Miss Prestwick, I would like to introduce you to the family. One of the servants will show you the way down to my study."
    This matter taken care of, Mrs. Hobart, her curiosity obviously unsated but her demeanor all that was discreet, departed from the salon with Miss Prestwick, carrying William. Miss Barnstaple, still silent, brought up the rear.
    Edward gazed after them abstractedly for some moments before he turned on his heel and exited the Yellow Salon.
    Climbing the stairs, Mrs. Hobart issued a steady stream of information. “It's been many a year since the nursery was in use. Occasionally, of course, we entertain visitors accompanied by little ones—and, naturally, the cradles and cots and toys and all are still in place from when Lord Camberwell—Mister Christopher, that is—and Lady Artemis were children—and who knows who else before them."
    Having reached the second floor and quite out of breath, the housekeeper strode down a long, dim corridor before pausing at a sturdy oak door, its panels scarred by generations of small hands and feet. She opened the door with a flourish and ushered the ladies into a large room, from which led other, smaller chambers. The room was spacious and sunny, and as she progressed, Mrs. Hobart flung off Holland covers to reveal that one of the smaller chambers was furnished with two infant cots, three small beds, and a cradle.
    The housekeeper gestured to the latter, and Helen proceeded with William to a waist-high table nearby, its purpose evident.
    "I think,” she said, smiling, “I'd best change him before we put him down for a nap. Although,” she said, her forehead wrinkling, “I should imagine he'll be demanding his dinner soon. Have you—?"
    "Of course, Miss.” Mrs. Hobart spoke authoritatively. “We have fresh milk and a plentiful supply of bottles and nipples. As for changing the baby, young Finch will be here momentarily. She can take care of that chore as well as all the