Free The Determined Bachelor by Judith Harkness

visitor here save Lady Cardovan since I arrived. Nicole has her lessons—at which she is remarkably apt—in the morning and in the afternoon we go abroad, either to walk in Hyde Park or to look into the shops. Nicole has been properly outfitted, thanks to Sir Basil’s largesse and Lady Cardovan’s attentiveness, but I have had as yet barely an hour to scribble, but am toying with the idea for a new novel. As to that— well, I shall tell you more when it is better formed. This much I shall say: It is not altogether unconcerned with the life of a determined bachelor!
    I have been once to my publisher, who says I may expect a check within the month—a very great sum by my reckoning! The book is ready for the printer, and shall be upon the shelves in a week’s time. Only fancy that! I am as terrified and pleased as if I were about to give birth to a baby, and only pray it shall be well received, that I may give up being a governess and live instead upon my earnings. Only think of that, my dear Ben! The idea, however, is so far-fetched, and the prospect of a book which contains neither heroes nor great romantic passions being thought well of is so unlikely, that I should probably resign myself to teaching little girls music and drawing forever. They cannot all be as astonishing as Nicole, and the novelty may soon wear off.
    Till I see you next, my dear, dear Ben, wrap up warm and take care with your health, if only for your devoted
    Anne                 

Chapter VI
    Anne set down her pen, sealed up her letter, and was just rising to her feet when there came a knock at the door of her bedchamber. Hastily pushing the letter beneath her blotter, she called out to know who it was. A high voice replied, and in a moment the diminutive figure of Nicole Lessington appeared in the doorway. The child was dressed rather more appropriately than she had been on the day of her arrival in Regent’s Terrace, but there managed to survive, despite the neat sprigged muslin pinafore, the ruffled cap, and delicate white stockings embroidered with clocks (a gift from Lady Cardovan which had delighted the little girl so much that she could scarcely be persuaded to take them off at night) something of the air of a sprightly elf. Her curls were black and glossy and seemed always a little disordered, her cap persisted in going askew upon her head, and the great shining black eyes peering out above the red cheeks contained such an expression of candour that Anne, who was already a little flustered, grew unwittingly crimson beneath their gaze.
    â€œYes, Nicole?” she inquired briskly. “I supposed you would be another half hour at least with your history lesson. Have you learned it all in so short a time?”
    â€œNearly,” responded the little girl without much conviction. She was staring interestedly about her, for she had only been once before in Miss Calder’s private apartment. The chamber was a good deal smaller than her own, and not nearly so well appointed, but it seemed to her to contain mysteries and charms far exceeding those of her own handsome bedchamber, with its crimson brocade curtains, its view of Regent’s Park, and the vast bedstead which seemed to swallowher up at night. She moved closer to the oddly shaped window above the desk and gazed out upon the view of treetops and roofs.
    â€œWell, that is not quite good enough, is it?” demanded her governess, but with sufficient amusement in her voice to offset the attempt at sternness. “ Nearly learning a history lesson is not quite so good as learning it, do you think?”
    â€œI suppose not,” responded the truant without any remorse. “But it was dreadfully dull. I thought if I was forced to read another phrase about old Greeks I should fall asleep.”
    â€œHa!” cried Anne, barely able to suppress a laugh, “old Greeks, is it? And what do you suppose