The Notorious Lord Havergal Read Online Free PDF Page A

quizzing smiles Havergal was shooting in her direction and looked instead at the long case clock in the corner. It was nearing six o’clock, their customary dinner hour. Norton, to do him justice, was never slow to take a hint. He was working on his manners and his accent, and his kind nature was a help in the former.
    “You are wishing me at Jericho, Miss Lettie,” he said bluntly. “I know when you begin slanting your eyes at the clock and drumming your fingers that you are ready for fork work. No doubt you are famished. You’ll want to run upstairs and change into your finery for Lord Havergal. I shall be off now. I told Miss Millie I might dine at the inn,” he added. This was his way of announcing he was not expected at home.
    Lettie was in no mood to oblige him, but if she didn’t, there would be hurt feelings. Violet made the expected offer. “Lord Havergal’s luggage has not arrived, and we are all dining in our afternoon clothes, so you must join us,” she said. He agreed without so much as a murmur of demur.
    “You talked me into it. Very kind I’m sure.”
    “You may regret it,” Lettie warned him, though her real reason was to let Havergal know she usually set a better table. “We are serving potluck. This is wash day, and the servants have been unusually busy.”
    “No need for excuses, lass. The company is the thing,” he said forgivingly, and added, “I can always fill up at home.”
    When the expected call came from Siddons, Norton seized Lettie’s arm and hustled her off to the dining room at top speed. Things there were as fine as the prevailing conditions made possible. A bouquet of early blooms culled from the garden formed a centerpiece for the table. The best linen cloth was in place, and the china and silverware were unexceptionable.
    “If we had known you were coming, we would have had a fish course,” Violet explained to the guests.
    “Everything is very nice,” Havergal assured her. “It is I who should apologize, barging in unannounced.”
    Norton scrutinized the sideboard more closely than a dinner guest should and pulled the chair to Lettie’s right hand for himself. Havergal pretended not to notice and sat on her left.
    Norton did not speak when he was eating. It was a lingering trait of his less affluent days. He gobbled up his food as if he might not see more for a week. Violet decided the potatoes were overdone, and Havergal insisted they were just as he liked them. They took turns apologizing and explaining till Lettie was tired of it all.
    “Let us agree dinner is a mess and speak of something else,” she said irritably.
    Havergal murmured a quiet “Amen.” He waited to hear what subject she might raise, but as she cut into a bird as tough as white leather and began chewing determinedly, he saw that the enlivening of the conversation was up to him.
    “Do you hunt, Miss Lettie?” he asked.
    “No, I have never hunted.”
    “Do you ride at all?”
    “A little. My mount is getting old.”
    “Lettie says she and Ruby are growing old together,” Violet told him. “When Ruby is past it, then Lettie means to quit riding altogether.”
    Lettie gave her a sharp glare. Havergal caught it and bit back a smile. So Miss Lettie was tender about her age, as he suspected. “How old is Ruby, Miss Lettie?” he asked. He purposely used Norton’s way of addressing her, as it sounded more friendly.
    “She is eighteen.”
    “Then she will surely beat you to retirement.” He smiled. “It is generally held that a horse of twenty is the equivalent of a man of seventy. I cannot believe that a young lady like yourself, in the prime of life, will be ready for pasture in two years.”
    Nor was she quite ready for condescending assurances of this sort. “I haven’t ordered up my Bath chair yet,” she said.
    Norton glanced up from his eating and said, “Ho, Bath chair! That is a good one, Miss Lettie. You ought to see her pelting along the meadows, milord. Her shank’s mare