because he’s young and handsome, he thinks he can wind all the girls around his thumb. You owe it to little Charles, Marnie, to refuse to see him.”
“If he is Kenelm, then I owe something to him too, but I shan’t be swayed by his flashing eyes. I’m not a fool.”
“You’re a woman, and not less susceptible than any other woman to a handsome young man with a fortune and title I must suppose. He’ll make up to you, that’s certain.”
“Credit me with some sense, Clare,” Marnie said, becoming angry.
Rorie sat listening silently, her mind in a turmoil. Later she discussed it with Marnie during the drive home, the major part of the trip devoted to Horace Rutley. She did not allow herself to come to a decision, but in the bottom of her heart of hearts, she hoped her gypsy was indeed Kenelm Derwent, Lord Raiker, and she wished as well that it was herself and not Marnie who could help him prove it, but she would be virtually useless. She had never seen Kenelm or Horace Rutley, knew less about them than anyone else at the party, with the exception of little Charles and Mimi.
“Who was the nice man that came to see Charles?” Mimi asked. She had been listening to the talk, and making very little sense of it.
“We don’t know, dear,” her mother told her. “He is a stranger.”
“I liked him,” Mimi said. “He hugged me.”
Marnie bit her lip and considered this for possible significance, but could find nothing in it.
Malone was curious to see them home so soon. She sat out on the lawn pretending to be reviewing Mimi’s schoolwork, but in fact she had been drawing pictures in coloured inks in Mimi’s tablet, and was pleased too with the results—much better than Mimi’s. She realized at once that something unusual had occurred to send her girls back so soon.
“Was it a fizzle then? None of the greats and mighties showed up?” she asked hopefully.
She was told the incredible story, and the shock of it sent her reeling to her chair, to fan her cheeks with her apron tails. “So the profligate son has returned, just like in the Bible,” she said. “There’ll be no fatted cat killed at Raiker Hall, I warrant.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Rorie told her, biting back a smile. “The fat cat was ready to die of anger.”
“There will be no rejoicing here either till we discover if he is really Kenelm,” Marnie said firmly.
“If he ain’t, he’s a bolder man than ever before saw the lights of day,” Malone opined. “But you never need to fear, my dears, for I’ll be by your side when he comes, and no impostor will be gulling us he’s our Bernard’s brother if he ain’t. I know things about him, even if I never met him. His lordship told me plenty about Kennie, as he called him. We’ll just see if the lad knows about the fenugreek,” she said, nodding her head sagely. On this cryptic remark she pushed her charges indoors, where she surprised them all by going to her room without Mimi, to sit silently devising questions to trap the profligate son.
Chapter Five
The ladies of the Dower House were surprised to receive a call from the man who had had himself announced as Lord Raiker in the morning, when they did not expect him till the afternoon. It caught Malone completely off guard. She was out in the back yard setting up traps to catch the gypsies, who had made off during the night with a rooster, and a pretty dull bunch she thought them, to steal that tough old bird, with a dozen tender hens who would have made a tastier meal.
“Good morning, Marnie, Miss Falkner,” he said, arising and bowing as they entered the saloon, where he had been put to wait.
Again Rorie was struck by the inconsistency of seeing the gypsy in such elegant attire, at home to a peg in a polite saloon.
“Good morning, Ken—” Marnie stopped in midspeech, her abrupt halt quite obvious.
He quirked a brow at her and laughed. “Your sleep has not brought you wise counsel if you have
“If he is Kenelm, then I owe something to him too, but I shan’t be swayed by his flashing eyes. I’m not a fool.”
“You’re a woman, and not less susceptible than any other woman to a handsome young man with a fortune and title I must suppose. He’ll make up to you, that’s certain.”
“Credit me with some sense, Clare,” Marnie said, becoming angry.
Rorie sat listening silently, her mind in a turmoil. Later she discussed it with Marnie during the drive home, the major part of the trip devoted to Horace Rutley. She did not allow herself to come to a decision, but in the bottom of her heart of hearts, she hoped her gypsy was indeed Kenelm Derwent, Lord Raiker, and she wished as well that it was herself and not Marnie who could help him prove it, but she would be virtually useless. She had never seen Kenelm or Horace Rutley, knew less about them than anyone else at the party, with the exception of little Charles and Mimi.
“Who was the nice man that came to see Charles?” Mimi asked. She had been listening to the talk, and making very little sense of it.
“We don’t know, dear,” her mother told her. “He is a stranger.”
“I liked him,” Mimi said. “He hugged me.”
Marnie bit her lip and considered this for possible significance, but could find nothing in it.
Malone was curious to see them home so soon. She sat out on the lawn pretending to be reviewing Mimi’s schoolwork, but in fact she had been drawing pictures in coloured inks in Mimi’s tablet, and was pleased too with the results—much better than Mimi’s. She realized at once that something unusual had occurred to send her girls back so soon.
“Was it a fizzle then? None of the greats and mighties showed up?” she asked hopefully.
She was told the incredible story, and the shock of it sent her reeling to her chair, to fan her cheeks with her apron tails. “So the profligate son has returned, just like in the Bible,” she said. “There’ll be no fatted cat killed at Raiker Hall, I warrant.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Rorie told her, biting back a smile. “The fat cat was ready to die of anger.”
“There will be no rejoicing here either till we discover if he is really Kenelm,” Marnie said firmly.
“If he ain’t, he’s a bolder man than ever before saw the lights of day,” Malone opined. “But you never need to fear, my dears, for I’ll be by your side when he comes, and no impostor will be gulling us he’s our Bernard’s brother if he ain’t. I know things about him, even if I never met him. His lordship told me plenty about Kennie, as he called him. We’ll just see if the lad knows about the fenugreek,” she said, nodding her head sagely. On this cryptic remark she pushed her charges indoors, where she surprised them all by going to her room without Mimi, to sit silently devising questions to trap the profligate son.
Chapter Five
The ladies of the Dower House were surprised to receive a call from the man who had had himself announced as Lord Raiker in the morning, when they did not expect him till the afternoon. It caught Malone completely off guard. She was out in the back yard setting up traps to catch the gypsies, who had made off during the night with a rooster, and a pretty dull bunch she thought them, to steal that tough old bird, with a dozen tender hens who would have made a tastier meal.
“Good morning, Marnie, Miss Falkner,” he said, arising and bowing as they entered the saloon, where he had been put to wait.
Again Rorie was struck by the inconsistency of seeing the gypsy in such elegant attire, at home to a peg in a polite saloon.
“Good morning, Ken—” Marnie stopped in midspeech, her abrupt halt quite obvious.
He quirked a brow at her and laughed. “Your sleep has not brought you wise counsel if you have
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