Page 49 of Brave New Earl (The Way to a Lord's Heart 1)

Both men moved to follow her.

“It’s not necessary for you to come,” she said. Better if they didn’t. Lord Furness was a…disturbance. He loomed in her consciousness. She’d meant to avoid him this morning. Hence the book.

And so of course he said, “Oh, I have to see this.”

“I admit I’m curious,” added his uncle.

As she couldn’t prevent them from coming, Jean turned and marched off. They trailed her upstairs to the nursery, where they found Geoffrey and Tom sitting on the floor in front of the blanket tepee. A spread of wooden blocks before them seemed part of a counting game. Geoffrey sprang up at once. “Can we go to the stable early?”

“No,” said his father. “Miss Saunders has come to read to you.”

“Read?”

“From a book.”

The boy shot him a suspicious glance. “Why would she?”

“For your amusement. And edification.”

“What’s ‘ed-i-fi-cation’?”

Geoffrey had only a little trouble repeating the word, which was impressive at his age, Jean thought. She didn’t want him to hear a definition, however. That would put a damper on things. “Forfun,” she said. “Let’s sit on the sofa, shall we?”

She led the way to that shabby piece of furniture under a row of windows. Tom and Lily the nursemaid found perches nearby, both looking interested. The two men took chairs opposite, and naturally Lord Furness chose to face her directly. She’d be unable to raise her eyes without meeting his. Well, she simply wouldn’t look up from this no-doubt fascinating volume.

Jean patted the cushion beside her, and Geoffrey slowly climbed onto it. He examined the cover of the book as if he’d never seen such a thing before. He didn’t look rebellious, however. Perhaps this could be a chocolate-box moment, Jean thought.

She opened it and read the first words ofThe History of Little Goody Two-Shoes. “‘Care and discontent shortened the days of Little Margery’s father. He was forced from his family and seized with a violent fever in a place where Dr. James’s Powder was not to be had, and where he died miserably.’” She stopped. This wasn’t what she’d expected.

“Died miserably,” repeated Geoffrey. He didn’t sound distressed. He seemed, in fact, to relish the phrase. “You thrash about when you have a fever. Bob fell right off his bed. Hit the floor with a great thud and wr…writhed.”

Jean looked down at him. His angelic blue eyes were bright.

“Geoffrey keeps a tally of local deaths,” said Lord Furness dryly. His gaze turned to Lily. “He should not be allowed in sickrooms, however. Bob’s or any others.”

The maid winced. “He’s slippery as an eel.”

“Bob?” asked Lord Macklin.

“He’s the gardener’s boy, my lord,” said Lily.

“Ah.”

“I wasn’t in. Jack told me about it,” said Geoffrey. “What comes next? Does somebody else die?”

“Yes,doread on,” said Lord Furness.

Jean looked down the page. “‘Margery’s poor mother survived the loss of her husband but a few days, and died of a broken heart, leaving Margery and her little brother to the wide world.’” She closed the book. “Clearly, this isn’t suitable.”

“That must be worse than a broken leg,” Geoffrey said. “Mr. Foster’s leg is all right now. He didn’t die.” He leaned over to examine the book with more interest than he’d shown before. “Is it all about people dying?”

Jean had had the impression, from hearing the title mentioned, that it was a sweet, poignant story. Quite suitable for her mythical chocolate-box child. She ought to have looked it over before she started this. But she’d been too eager for a diversion.

“That would be an original approach to narrative,” said Lord Furness. He smiled at her as if he knew precisely what was going through her mind. Which he didnot!

“Perhaps Margery dies next,” said Geoffrey.

“Not likely so soon,” put in Tom. “She must be the one on the cover, with the sheep.” He pointed at them. “Mebbe her little brother.”

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