Tuesday's Child (Heroines Born on Each Day of the Week Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

brother! He should offer him consolation. “My lord, I must visit, Robert.” He used his father’s formal term of address to stress his determination.
    Joshua shook his head. Tears rolled down his cheeks. “He refuses to see any of the family. I think it is because he is either too ashamed of his folly, or because he does not want our pity.”
    “I must see him,” Dominic repeated, tactfully pretending he had not noticed his father’s tears. “Maybe he will recover.” He clutched at an unlikely straw. “There might be a miracle.” He suppressed his grief. Shocking enough to see his proud father succumb to anguish without adding his own.
    * * *
    Three days after he left Faucon House, Dominic sat at his desk in the spacious library in the rectory at Queen’s Langley in Hertfordshire. He dipped his goose quill into the ink pot. After a moment’s thought, he added a few lines to his sermon, on the subject of  “It Is Better to Give than Receive”, in elegant copperplate handwriting. He would deliver it on Sunday from the pulpit of the Church of Saint Michael and All Saints.
    He tried to concentrate and failed. The prospect of an arranged marriage did not appeal to him. Only once, soon after he graduated from Oxford, had he fallen in love. It came to nought. Afterwards, despite the lures cast at him, no other lady ever tempted him to exchange his single status with matrimony. He repressed a smile at the thought of young ladies, who pursued him. Even when chaperoned by their mothers, they tried to find an opportunity to be alone with him.
    Dominic knew females admired his good looks, which he placed little importance on. He also knew their parents would not reject a suitor with an income from three parishes, who had also inherited several legacies from relatives. On the marriage market, he was considered ‘a good catch’. The question was, did he want to be caught? No, he did not, but regrettably love for his father and duty to his family demanded the sacrifice of his comfortable bachelor existence..
    His thoughts returned to the sermon. What should he write next? He put his quill down.
    While Dominic sipped a glass of home brewed birch wine, to which he was partial, he stared at the vista of his well-kept garden in front of the rectory, on the border of the road to the village. Where was Robert? If only he could bring him here to be nursed in the peace and quiet of the country. On warm summer days, Robert could sit outside and, maybe, recover his health.
    Mrs Cooper opened the garden gate. What did she want? A word with Gwenifer? He wrote another line of his sermon. 
    Several minutes later, his dark-haired, dark-eyed sister, still as pretty at twenty-seven as she was when she married at the age of twenty, bustled into the room. “Mrs Cooper begs for a word with you.”
    “Do you know why?”
    “No, when I questioned her she shook her head, and refused to confide in me. She insists the matter is only for your ears.” She shrugged. “I must warn you she is tearful.”
    “I hope I can help her. Please ask Lottie to show her in,” he requested Gwenifer was always aware of his duty to care for his flock, although women’s tears made him uncomfortable, even when they aroused his compassion.
    At the time of his ordination, with three older brothers, it had seemed unlikely he would ever become head of the Faucon family. So, although he did not have a divine calling, he accepted the career and provisions his father made for him, and entered holy orders.
    A clergyman could not participate in every pleasure available to members of the ton. Nevertheless, he enjoyed spring in his parish of  Rivenden, which was near enough to the capital city to be advantageous during the London Season, the summer in Queen’s Langley, and autumn in his third parish where he joined the hunt.
    Lottie opened the door, bobbed a curtsey and stood aside to allow the visitor to enter the library.
    “Mrs Cooper,” Dominic greeted the