Free Red Jack's Daughter by Edith Layton Page A

experiment when her tresses firs t began to gray; she had had to keep indoors for a month.
    “But your father,” Lord Leith said as he turned to open the door and began to shoo his aunt away from another promising letter upon the desk, “as a fellow named Red Jack, he had to have such a mop as well.”
    “He did,” Miss Eastwood said sadly, “but not so bright as mine. And,” she added, looking up at him, “he was a man.”
    “Ah, yes,” was all he could reply, reading the infinite sadness in her eyes.
    “A good day’s work, Alex,” Lady Grantham said to Lord Leith as he took his leave of her. “A dozen frocks on order, and two already in hand. And even now, my own little Nellie is fashioning her a suitable style for that mane of hers. Ollie will be pleased as Punch. You’ve done well and I thank you. But mind, you’re not free yet; you’ve promised to take her for a ride in the park when her clothes arrive and there’s the theater next week.”
    “I hear and obey,” he said, taking his aunt’s hand and touching h is lips to it.
    “ Shan’t be surprised if we get her popped off yet. She’s well enough in her own fashion,” his aunt mused. “Now if you can work your magic to the point of getting her to speak as a young lady should, we’ll be at the winning post.”
    “ Is that how a proper lady should speak?” he asked, grinning.
    “ I’m too old to be proper,” she said airily, “and she’s too young to be improper. So, if you’ll leave off talking of horse- flesh and politics with her for a bit, we may wean her from it.
    “ And if I do,” he said quietly, “she won’t speak to me at a ll . ”
    “ That remains to be seen,” Lady Grantham said reflectively. “Now be off about your nefarious ways, Alex, I’ve got to oversee Nellie so there’s not a slip. I shouldn’t wonder if that little amazon don’t stab her with the scissors if she doesn't care for the cut.”
    The tall gentleman bowed again and took himself off into lung shadows of the afternoon.
    He returned to his town house, where he relaxed and read through the newspaper and then perused a small heap of cards of invitation that his man had left for him. He dined alone. When he was done, he went to his rooms and changed to more formal evening wear. Pocketing a few cards, he told his man not to wait up for him and went quietly out into the night.
    He strolled the streets alone, ranging far in deep a bstracted thought, and did not even bother to peer into the shadows at alleyways of the quiet streets, as though he knew that his large form gave sufficient pause to any footpads. Then he straightened and made his way with more resolve back to the fashionable section of town.
    Lord Leith, it was reported in some tattle the next day, ornamented Baron Oakes levee for the space of an hour, had a run of luck at Argyles, and then had a greater success at a less-reputable hell a few city blocks away. He advised young Percy Swithin on the purchase of a nag, accepted some unasked-for advice on matrimony from a bibulous Viscount T ravis, gently repulsed the attentions of Lady Travis, and shared a few jests with an old school friend. It was at an advanced hour of the night, when the lights in respectable establishments began to dim, that he made his way to the imposing, dignified white stone house.
    A stolid butler showed him in and, taking his cloak, suggested that, as he was expected, he go upstairs. After takin g the flight of steps, he paused and knocked upon the door, although he knew he could have walked straight in, since he was at the moment providing funds for the house, the butler and the person who waited within. Still, he thought wryly, life was made bearable by the inclusion of such grace notes . The female who greeted him did not seem to agree.
    “Alex,” she said with delight, opening the door, “why do you stand upon such ceremony? Especially when I have been waiting here for you so many hours?”
    “You expected me,