his
grandmother, when she still lived, sitting on a bench in the estate
gardens, reading her own well-worn book of Burns' poetry. Later,
when she fell ill, Grandfather would go to her chambers and read to
her, his gentle voice caressing the words as if singing a love
song. Grandmother would lie back with her eyes closed, an ethereal
smile lighting her face. It was his favorite memory of his
grandparents and the love they shared.
Warmed by the memory, he picked up the volume, took
it to the shop clerk, and purchased it.
****
Robert Townley, the duke's valet, stayed close to his
master, but not so close as to intrude. The duke managed to get
around quite well on his own, reading lips and using his other
senses, but he couldn't hear warning shouts or the rushing
carriages traveling the busy London streets. Though Robert hadn't
been instructed to do so, he'd made it his mission to protect
Phillip whenever the young duke went out.
Robert's father and grandfather had both served the
duke's family. Robert himself had grown up on the estate, spending
his youth with the young heir. He'd been allowed to sit in on
Phillip's lessons, never letting on that he was learning as much as
Phillip. When Phillip had left for Eton, Robert had continued his
own education by reading the duke's discarded newspapers and
everything else he could get his hands on.
When Phillip's gun had misfired, leaving him scarred
and deaf, he'd come home to convalesce, and Robert had been one of
the few people he'd allowed in his rooms. The two men had forged a
bond more akin to friendship than the usual relationship between
servant and master. Now, he noted Phillip's dazed expression.
What happened in that bookstore?
He reached out a hand and lightly touched the duke's
sleeve to get his attention. "Your Grace?"
Phillip blinked several times, seeming to bring
himself into the present. "Yes, Townley?"
"Is everything all right? Did something happen in
there? You look rather… dazed."
Phillip sighed. "I suppose I do. I just caught a
glimpse of heaven."
Chapter Two
Lady Amelia Partridge paused outside the bookstore to
put her new purchases into a leather satchel she'd borrowed from
her brother. Edward hadn't known about the loan, of course. But he
was off on one of his hunting trips with his friends. She supposed
she looked silly, carrying it about; however, the books wouldn't
fit in her reticule, and she didn't want all of London to know
about her reading selections. The books were for some special
children in her life, but she didn't want to explain to her friends
if they should happen to see her.
She handed the satchel to Giles, her young footman,
and led the way back to the high street, where she had arranged to
meet her coach near the park. From there, she rode in comfort back
to her brother's home.
It had been her home, too, for the past twenty-three
years. But now she was going to have to find another place to live.
Despite the forty-odd rooms in Sudbury House, there was not enough
space for two women. At least, not when one of the women was her
brother's fiancée, Colette.
Amelia's Edward, Earl of Sudbury, had suggested she
marry. But she absolutely couldn't bind herself to some fop who
thought of no one but himself, or worse, one who dictated her every
move. She led her own life and didn't want someone else telling her
what to do, the way her father had run her mother's life. The poor
woman hadn't had a moment to herself until the day she died. It was
a lesson well learned.
Edward would give her an allowance, of course, and
he'd offered to let her have the cottage in Oxfordshire. But she
would need more than what he'd be able to give her, especially if
Collette had anything to say about it. Besides, the cottage was far
away from her friends. Recently, she'd had some success writing
books, keeping her identity hidden by using a pen name. If she
lived frugally, perhaps she'd be able to support herself,
especially if Edward would help
Dean Wesley Smith, Kristine Kathryn Rusch
Martin A. Lee, Bruce Shlain