Free Barbara Metzger by Lord Heartless Page B

had been right: His mother never discarded anything, nor did the three viscountesses previous to her. Luckily most of the trunks and boxes were labeled. While Carissa went through bundles of blankets and linens, all laid out with lavender, Lesley searched for the larger things they needed. He went past sleds and small beds and cricket bats and half-size top hats, until he reached a low-ceilinged section. He found an elevated chair, but that wasn't on Mrs. Kane's list, likely because Sue couldn't sit up yet. He directed the footmen to carry it down, just in case. He couldn't decide between his choice of three cradles, so he took two. He preferred the wicker pram to the heavy wooden one, but thought he'd have a new one made for Sue anyway.
    Carissa had unrolled a frayed carpet onto the floor, noting that the attic was cleaner than the viscount's other house had been before the cleaners came. She started opening trunks and placing her selections on the rug, which could be folded over and carried down the stairs. “Some of the bonnets will need to be bleached, and I fear moths have gotten into one or two of the sweaters, but I should be able to mend them. The rattle needs polishing, of course, but I think that is everything, my lord."
    The mound was as high as his waist. “Lud, I should hope so. There will be no room for Sue in that little bedroom."
    On their way out of the attics, they passed a stack of paintings. The first one was of a beautiful woman in court dress of the previous century. “My mother,” Lord Hartleigh told Carissa. “Right after her marriage. This portrait used to hang in the library, before Agatha got here."
    Carissa couldn't blame the viscountess for banishing the painting. What woman wanted to be compared to her husband's exquisite first wife? “Why don't you take it with us? The Kensington house could use something pretty."
    Lesley nodded to the footmen. He also pointed to a vase he recalled from his mother's sitting room, an embroidered fire screen, and a footed sewing basket. “Perhaps Maisie could mend the baby's clothes if needed."
    "We are going to require another wagon soon if you don't stop."
    "But we haven't even inspected the nursery."
    "I cannot imagine what's left that an infant could use, especially in the short time Sue will be in London. You did see your solicitor today, didn't you?"
    Lesley said something about the man making inquiries but was already on his way to the lower level. Carissa had to trail behind him, hoping the viscount did not intend to give the baby his toy soldiers or some such. He was looking around the schoolroom, directing the footmen to lift this small chair, that pile of picture books. The rocking horse, with its flowing mane and glass eyes, he carried himself.
    "It will be years before Sue can ride that thing,” Carissa protested. “And you said yourself how crowded her room will be."
    "It's not for Sue. I thought Pippa would like it."
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Chapter Nine
    A rocking horse? Carissa thought of all the things she had never been able to give her daughter, would never be able to provide: other children to play with, a proper governess, riding lessons, and more. Toys were the least of it. She'd saved her pennies just to provide ribbons for Philippa's hair and a scrap of lace for her petticoats. Carissa had never so much as considered a rocking horse, it was that far beyond her finances. Pippa would adore it, but...
    They were on facing seats of his carriage, the rocking horse on the floor between them. Carissa almost reached out to touch the wooden steed's silky black mane, but she caught herself in time. “I am sorry, my lord, I cannot accept."
    "The toy is not for you, Mrs. Kane. It is for your daughter."
    She rubbed her hands together, cold from the chill of the attics. “You must know that it would not be proper for me to accept so lavish a gift."
    He leaned closer, as if he would take her hands in his and warm them. Speak of improper!