Free My Lord Wicked (Historical Regency Romance) by Cheryl Bolen Page A

many of the feminine arts at my own grandmother's knee." She threw him a haughty look. "My grandmother was a Meriwether, you know."
    "Actually, my ward is not a little girl. She is eighteen, but her education has been sadly neglected, having been raised by a widowed father. He had been my great friend at Oxford."
    "What is the girl's name?"
    "Miss Lambeth."
    "What is her Christian name?"
    "Fredericka, but she is known as Freddie." His voice softened when he said her name.
    She grimaced. "Well, we must do something about that horrid name."
    "I think not," he said firmly. "Freddie suits her."
    Her eyes widened. "Then she is a tomboy?"
    He nodded. "With a quickness for learning. You will be able to make a lady of her easily, I am sure."
    She gave him a puzzled glance. "What is it you wish her to learn, my lord?"
    "Well," he began, then faltered. What did he want for the girl? Freddie repeatedly told him she did not need to learn the ways of the ton since she would never be one of them. But she deserved the best he could offer. "She has no knowledge of those things most young ladies have been instructed in. She does no needlework and has no experience with watercolors. She cannot speak French or play the pianoforte. She has never danced."
    "Oh, the poor creature!"
    Her words irritated him. "Do not pity her, Mrs. Taylor," he said, his lips compressed. "You will have much to work with."
    She cocked her head and gave him a quizzing gaze. "What of her appearance?"
    "It improves. I helped her select a suitable wardrobe and have procured a maid who has a talent with hair. Miss Lambeth is tolerably good looking now."
    The coach slowed as the horses made their ascent up the steep rocks to Marshbanks Abbey. Mrs. Taylor scooted closer to the window. "How wonderful to see the abbey again!"
    ***
    The sound of Freddie's erratic playing echoed throughout the great hall as Stacks led Mrs. Taylor into the room to introduce the two women.
    Freddie, self conscious that they had heard her inexperienced efforts at the pianoforte, quickly got to her feet, pulling the Kashmir shawl about her to ward off the room's chill. Marmalade remained curled on top the pianoforte.
    "How delighted I am to be here, my dear," Mrs. Taylor purred. "I have always wanted to have a girl of my own to mentor, so to speak. Of course, you are much older than one I would have borne," she amended.
    Freddie met her guardian's gaze and understood the devilish flare in his dark eyes.
    Mrs. Taylor strolled to the pianoforte and examined the sheet of music Freddie had been playing. Freddie had the feeling the woman knew she was being watched and held her breath so as to subtract girth from her midsection.
    "This song will never do!" Mrs. Taylor said authoritatively.
    Lord Stacks' voice was unfamiliarly commanding when he said, "I selected it myself."
    Mrs. Taylor stood frozen for a moment, then turned to Stacks, a wide smile on her face. "Of course, it would be excellent for a beginner. So short and all."
    "You need not bother with teaching Miss Lambeth to play," Stacks said. "I plan to do that myself."
    "An ambitious undertaking, I am sure," Freddie said with a laugh. Her voice was less hoarse now, and her coughing spells reduced to an occasional covered sputter.
    "I will leave you two," he said. "I am not such an ogre that I expect Mrs. Taylor to begin her tasks today after her tedious journey. I suggest you set aside afternoons for your sessions together."
    Freddie was thankful he had said sessions. She disliked excessively to think that she were being tutored at her age.
    Mrs. Taylor threw an admiring glance at Stacks. "You go on now. I will take a moment to get acquainted with dear Fredericka."
    ***
    Roberts gave his master's cravat a final twist before standing back to admire his creation.
    "Edgekirth comes to dinner tonight," Stacks said flatly.
    Roberts' eyes rounded. "But the man is despicable! He maligns you greatly."
    "My dear Roberts, Edgekirth is too much the gentleman