The Royal Scamp Read Online Free PDF Page B

at her, then held up the telescope, as though to offer her a look.
    “She seems to be listing to starboard,”he said, in the casual way of strangers who had met by chance.
    “I wonder what’s the matter with it,”Esther answered with mild interest. Of course there was more than mild interest in her bosom.
    Mr. Fletcher proved very handsome on close examination and seen head-on. If a talented young lady sat down with paint and brush to put her dream lover on canvas, she would come up with something very much like Mr. Fletcher. He was tall and dark, his complexion weathered to tan from the elements. Knowing him for a retired sailor, Esther credited his interesting shade to the wind of stormy seas and the sun of tropical climes. His eyes were a bright blue, glowing with health and animal energy, and with perhaps a hint of flirtation to add the coup de grace.
    Even his tailoring improved on closer inspection. His superfine jacket fit like paper on the wall, an effect achieved by only the best London tailors. His shirt was immaculate, starched to a T; a waistcoat of finely striped blue and yellow covered his chest. He was tall and rather slender—elegant was the word that occurred to her. If his lips opened to reveal a gap-toothed smile, it would be a crime.
    “Her!”he said.
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “We call ships her, not it. They are temperamental, hard to command, yet worth every effort—obviously feminine.”He smiled. No gap marred his perfect smile.
    “You sound like a sailor,”Esther replied innocently.
    “Mr. Fletcher, formerly captain of the HMS Glory.”He made a military bow, but with more grace than most military men could muster. Even his voice was unexceptionable—deeply resonant, with the ring of authority in it.
    Such sticklers as Joshua Ramsay would raise a brow to see the introduction being carried out without the presence of a mutual acquaintance. Esther assuaged her conscience that the name of Lady Brown would soon be in the air between them to lend propriety.
    She smiled and nodded in acknowledgment of his speech, but did not return the compliment. Undeterred, he pressed on with trying to discover her name. “Would you like to have a look through this?”he asked, proffering the telescope and using it as an excuse to come closer.
    She said, “Thank you,”and raised it to look at the barge, which was of no more interest to either of them than a leaf hanging on a tree. “I can’t see very well,”she said, and handed it back.
    “You have to adjust the lens,”he explained, and  pulled off his York-tan gloves. His gloves were lovely, his hands more so, the fingers long and tapered, well-manicured. He fiddled with the protruding rings and handed the telescope back. Their fingers brushed, lending an unexpected tinge of intimacy to the endeavor. Esther’s parasol was in the way, and he took it from her with another smile. She looked at the barge long enough to denote some interest before handing the glass back to him.
    He looked out on the water with his unaided eyes now. “They’re hauling her to dry dock to be re-rigged, I fancy.”
    “Very likely,’she agreed, and turned to leave, but she knew the meeting was not over.
    “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
    “What? Oh, my parasol! Foolish of me.”
    “Will you allow me to carry it for you?”he asked, and took a step, assuming that the answer, though tacit, was affirmative.
    They proceeded past the end of Lowden Arms territory, and Esther decided to tease him a little. “Are you in the habit of trespassing, Mr. Fletcher?”
    “On your time, do you mean, ma’am, or on your property."
    “On my property.”
    “But I am a guest at the hotel,”he answered, wrinkling his brow in confusion.
    “This particular stretch of the river walk does not belong to the hotel. It belongs to that brick house up there," she said, and indicated the dower house, up several yards from the river. “And the house belongs to me.”
    “You must be