Free A Rake Reformed (A Gentleman of Worth Book 6) by Shirley Marks

Mama,” Clare replied in rather a heated manner.
    “But there is more than one young lady of marriageable age in this household, to be sure.” Mrs. Harris turned her head from Rosalind, moving her gaze innocently to look at the teapot. Without mention of a name, it was perfectly clear to whom she referred.
    Rosalind chose to ignore the comment. She simply would not react for she had no intention of setting a cap at anyone.
    “In any case, I imagine our patient will be up and around in the next day or two.” Mrs. Harris directed her gaze at Clare. “I do believe he is most anxious to join the household festivities belowstairs and we must add a new decorative element this year.” She glanced from one sister to the other. “We are in need of a kissing bough.”
    “A kissing bough!” Clare gasped with delight, sitting forward with interest. “You have never allowed . . . oh, Mama! Truly? Will you permit it?”
    “I think the right time is now , my dear. Find some mistletoe, with plenty of berries, and together with a sprig of holly, perhaps a bit of evergreen, and plenty of ivy twined throughout. Bind it with some ribbon and it will be quite satisfactory, I should think. You will see to it, will you not?”
    “Oh, yes, Rosalind and I shall make one straightaway. Where shall we hang it?” Clare stood and glanced about, searching for the perfect location. “At the front door? No, I don’t think that is the place. At the base of the staircase? Certainly not at the top!”
    “How could you encourage such a match to us on a mere acquaintance, ma’am?” Rosalind could not imagine whence this madness had come. All this talk of setting caps and mistletoe with the appearance of two strangers in their midst. Strangers! Had the females of this household lost their senses? “We know nothing of them and, lest you forget, they have a connection to the Earl of Brent. Nothing good could come of that.”
    “Come now, dear Rosalind, these men may be acquainted with the earl but it is not as if I were encouraging a direct association with His Lordship himself.”
    “Mr. Trevor is a perfect gentleman.” Clare would favor his side. Ever since she had met him all Rosalind heard was Mr. Trevor this and Mr. Trevor that .
    “You see there, Rosalind. Your sister says—”
    “Clare’s feelings on this matter are all too clear to me, ma’am.” Rosalind hated to sound like the old, sensible spinster of the group but the elderly married lady and the youngest, and apparently silliest, female had both lost their wits. Just because two strangers, with moderate consequence, happened to stumble onto their doorstep did not mean Rosalind and her sister need marry them.
    Never had they thought to travel to London in search of husbands nor had they even gone to the nearest town in search of a beau. Rosalind thought, as she presumed Clare had, they would live out their lives here outside Huddlesford and taking care of those around them.
    Clare might have been willing to run into Mr. Rutherford’s arms and into a life of wedded bliss, however Rosalind had to admit she had no taste for marriage for marriage’s sake.

Chapter Eight

     
    F reddie had looked in on the still-slumbering Trevor the following morning after waking. Continuing belowstairs to the breakfast room, Freddie had found gammon, eggs, coffee, and bread. During his journey through the house, he had not come across another soul.
    The previous day there had been a number of servants milling about besides the family. Last night he’d seen some of the kitchen staff who served supper in the dining room. Yesterday afternoon there were two men aiding with the guests’ relocation, lending a hand with Trevor and the luggage.
    Where were they now?
    There was nothing for him to complain about. His clothing, which was admittedly not his, had been laundered and pressed to his satisfaction. The neckcloth had not been starched as he would have liked but it was clean.
    Freddie