Connie (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 3) by Mary Kingswood Page A

said, taking the book from the Marquess’s hand. “Oh, Robert Burns. Good Lord, what are you doing with this nonsense? Here, listen to this one, for it is quite my favourite.”
    He struck a pose, and recited a verse in a loud voice.
    “To A Mouse, On Turning Her Up In Her Nest With The Plough
    Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
    O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
    Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
    Wi' bickering brattle!
    I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
    Wi' murd'ring pattle!”
    He roared with laughter. “A mouse! Imagine writing a poem about a mouse! The fellow’s a fool.”
    “Alex, read the one about the louse on the bonnet,” Jess Drummond said. “That one is quite my favourite.”
    She sat herself down beside the Marquess, and the three of them spent the next hour reciting choice nonsense from the book, and laughing at the absurdity of it all.
    Connie knew there was no hope of reclaiming the Marquess’s attention, so she quietly joined the group at the worktable.
    Belle smiled at her and whispered, “Wrong poems, Connie dear. Those are amusing, but not terribly romantic.”
    Connie laughed. “No, indeed! But I do not think Lord Carrbridge really likes poetry after all. I shall have to think of a different approach. Amy, how did Mr Ambleside come to fall in love with you?”
    Amy blushed. “Oh, he said that he had been in love with me for ever, since I first came out. So I do not know what made him do so.”
    “Your sweet nature, I expect,” Belle said, smiling at her, so that she blushed even more. “But it was a long time before you were in love with him , was it not?”
    “Yes, although I always liked him very much, but I did not know I was in love with him until he so admired one of my flowers in the new shrubbery. He knelt down to hold the blossom in his hand. Flowers are so much more romantic than poems, I think.”
    “Flowers,” Connie said thoughtfully. “That has possibilities.”
    ~~~~~
    The following day brought an unexpected caller — the Marquess returned, and this time he brought one of his brothers with him. Lord Reginald Marford was three years younger than the Marquess, and had none of his brother’s aristocratic good looks, nor his flamboyant style of dress. However, he was very personable, and since he spent the entire visit in conversation with Connie, and was very cross when told it was time to leave, she decided she liked him very much.
    He was so amiable that she felt she had known him for years instead of a single half hour visit. So it was that she ventured to say, as the brothers prepared to depart, “Are you escaping from the dragons, too?”
    He roared with laughter, and bent down to whisper, “Yes, I am, but do not tell everyone how cowardly I am, to be afraid of two dowagers and a pair of elderly spinsters.”
    “Ah, but that is the most formidable kind of dragon, I believe,” she whispered back. “I do not blame you one bit.”
    He laughed again, and raised her hand to his lips. “I am quite delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Constance. I hope to see you again very soon.”
    And with that he was gone, leaving Connie in a very pleasant frame of mind.
    ~~~~~
    The Marquess and Lord Reginald rode home in silence, each brother deep in his own thoughts. When they arrived at Great-aunt Augusta’s house, they found Harriet just descending from her own carriage after a visit to Staynlaw House.
    “Reggie? Oh, it is you! Of all things, this is the most charming — quite a family reunion we have here. All is well at Drummoor, I take it?”
    “As well as you might imagine, with Grandmama and her three cronies at large in the house,” Reggie said gloomily. “There is only so much berating a man can take.”
    “What a feeble pair you are, to be afraid of a few old ladies,” Harriet said. “Is this the spirit of English heroism that won the day at Agincourt?”
    “I would a thousand times rather face the French than Grandmama on the rampage,” Reggie