Free A Season for the Heart by Elizabeth Chater Page B

seen so flawless a human being in her life. Even the beautiful Isabelle’s luster was paled before the bright effulgence of this youth’s splendor.
    Acknowledging a reaction she had seen many times before, Lady Masterson smiled proudly and announced, “Miss Rand, may I present my son Gareth?”
    The man’s well-cut lips softened into a delightful smile. “Miss Rand! A pleasure to meet you, Ma’am.” He bowed over her hand, and Pommy was not surprised to note that his every action was graceful yet manly.
    The Nonpareil turned to his mother. “I am happy to see you in such high spirits, Mama,” he said, kissing her hand and then her cheek. “Uncle Derek, this is a pleasure we have too seldom! You are looking well, sir. Are you back in town to stay?”
    The two men shook hands, and the Earl’s smile was cordial. It was evident that he liked his heir. “I believe I shall find enough to keep me interested for a little while, Gareth. I plan a rather longer stay in London than usual. For one thing, I have brought your mother a companion—Miss Melpomene Rand, whose grandfather was the Reverend Augustus Mayo, one of our great scholars.”
    “Oh!” Gareth said, smiling amiably. “Are you also a scholar, Miss Rand?”
    “Oh, no, sir,” Pommy hastened to disclaim. “I have neither the wisdom nor the training.”
    Both Lady Masterson and her son seemed to find this modesty admirable, and Gareth even sighed in relief. “I was beginning to be in a quake lest I should find myself exposing my deficiencies! At Eton I was forever running into difficulties with my tutors.” He chuckled. “They were wont to say that I had more bottom than brains!”
    His mother proudly interpreted. “Like his dear father, Gareth excels in all the manly sports. He is a bruising rider who never refuses any hazard, I am told. Of course, he has no head for figures, but that is not at all necessary when dear Derek has instructed his comptroller to handle all our affairs for us.” She cast her brother-in-law a grateful look, and then summoned Mikkle again, requiring him to get the housekeeper to escort Miss Rand to her room.
    “Go now, child, and let Mrs. Upton send a maid to assist you in dressing for dinner. Gareth, you may leave us also. I have matters to discuss with your uncle.”
    When the two young people had gone, the Earl rattled in before his sister-in-law could begin the inquisition she clearly intended.
    “Something is troubling Gareth.” It was a statement rather than a question.
    The widow shrugged an exquisite shoulder, and would not meet his eyes. “Oh, it is some boyish whim! Gareth is moody, you know.”
    “Gareth is one-and-twenty— not a boy, Aurora! Is he pining to go to his estate?”
    Lady Masterson put on a lachrymose expression and took out a lace-edged scrap of handkerchief. “You know he is like a child, forever wishing to race in the fields and climb trees and shoot and ride horses—and dogs—”
    “Hardly dogs, my dear Aurora, but I catch your meaning. Gareth has the soul and the interests of an English squire, and will make an excellent husbandman of his lands, for all his elegance of person and the Town bronze you have succeeded in giving him. Aurora—let the lad go! He will never leave your side as long as you hold him with you. He tries to please you, but he is truly miserable among the Beaux and the Corinthians. Free him to embrace his heritage! It is what his father would have desired.”
    “Have you forgotten that it was that very heritage which took his father’s life? He would be with us today if he had not saved that herdsman’s child from the bull!”
    “It was an act of heroism,” the Earl said gently. “He could not have done otherwise.”
    Lady Masterson turned the conversation quickly. “I must thank you for your efforts to find me a companion,” she said, rallying him a little archly. “Am I to suppose that you have a special interest in—the scholar’s grandchild?”
    The Earl