Wicked Wyckerly Read Online Free PDF

instead of giving him the evil eye.
    “I’m certain I know my land better, too, since I have lived here all my life. For your daughter’s sake, and against my better judgment, I will let you use the gardener’s cottage behind the stable. It is only one room and not in good repair. There is little point in installing a bed for Penny just for a few days, so she may stay in the house. Everyone knows I’ve been searching for a head gardener, except they will not believe you are he while wearing those clothes.”
    He glanced down at his second-best frock coat, the one he’d hoped would impress his daughter with his importance. He’d looked quite the dandy when he’d set out yesterday. Penelope had promptly smeared meat-pie grease on his sleeve. And tea now stained the once pristine cuff of his good shirt. His scalded wrist still stung, but not so badly as his pride. He would have to retrieve his baggage from the roadway.
    “I fear I have only my city coats with me,” he admitted. Over the years, after paying the meager stipend for his daughter’s upkeep, he’d invested his winnings on clothes and women and keeping a roof over his head. Appearance and family name were his entrée to the wealthy society from which he earned his upkeep, since the Danecroft estate had never provided an allowance for its spare heir.
    “I’ll see if I can alter a few of my father’s clothes to fit,” Miss Merriweather said, eyeing him thoughtfully. “Some garments were too old to give away to charity.”
    Lovely. Fitz tried not to roll his eyes at the thought of any other earl wearing a country bumpkin’s discarded rags. He obviously hadn’t achieved nobility yet.
    “You will not regret your generosity, Miss Merriweather.” And that was not a lie either. He had no good way of repaying her, but he had connections. He would think of something.
    “That remains to be seen, Mr. Wyckerly. Come along, Cook should have that salve ready. I’ll have someone show you to your quarters. Dinner is served at noon, supper at six. If Penelope does not object, I’ll give her a bite to eat and show her to the nursery.”
    She marched off like a soldier to war. Fitz tried not to wonder what he was getting himself into, but the proper earl he must be still struggled with the predicament brought on by his former louselike existence.

    “My little sister Jennifer likes this bed.” After their meal, Abigail had led Penelope upstairs to the nursery, where she patted the quilted cover of a child’s bed. She’d personally appliquéd the flowers and rabbits from Jennie’s favorite old dresses. Penelope seemed to be studying them favorably.
    “I’m not tired,” the child said, hugging her ragged doll.
    “Of course you’re not. But if you hide up here with some picture books, your papa won’t know where you are unless I tell him.”
    “Picture books?” Her gaze slid to the shelves stacked with slender volumes beneath the window seat.
    Abigail opened a wardrobe, pretending not to watch the girl’s every expression. She had been studying how children’s minds worked since she was fifteen. At first, it had been only to keep her privacy from being invaded. But as she’d come to accept her stepmother, she’d gradually learned to love the joy and energy her half-siblings added to her father’s household.
    She swallowed her tears at the ache of their absence. In the past three years both her beloved father and stepmother had died. She could not—would not—accept any more losses.
    “I think Jennie outgrew this frock. You might want to try it on later.” She carefully laid out the pink and green sprigged muslin. “If that fits, I’m sure we can find others.”
    Standing on the braided rug in the middle of the room, Penelope looked torn between the books, the bed, and the pretty frock. Good. They would keep her occupied for a little while. Not expecting a reply from a distraught, tired little girl, Abigail reached for the door handle.
    “Thank