To Love a Tormented Earl - Bridget Barton Page 0,103
standing for virtue when the occasion arose. Likewise, he was sure that a stint in the military would never alter his opinions on where his true talent lay.
In black hessian boots, he marched silently across the floor, hoping that some change in his pacing might reignite inspiration within him. He paused at the window, pulling back the thick velvet curtain. The London streets outside were barely visible in the darkness. It had started to rain that afternoon, and like his missing creativity, it hadn't let up once. Visual rings around the streetlamps gave the only view of the fashionable street's inhabitants.
Despite the dismal weather, it was still bustling with activity. He let his mind relax and wander for just a moment. His gaze followed carriages rushing towards destinations and pedestrians struggling, head bent, against the storm.
His eyes focused on a particular couple that came into the light under a streetlamp just next to his garden gate. It was a woman heavily cloaked and soaking wet. He could see wisps of hair that dangled out from her downturned bonnet, dripping water at regular intervals.
Gripped tightly by her hand was a small girl. She too had on a heavy cloak, though clearly much finer than the lady’s. The child's one hand was gripped in her maid’s, the other was tucked tightly in a fur muffler hanging from around her neck.
The lady struggled to move forward in the heavy wet coat and dress while keeping the child at her side and a large carpet bag slung over her opposite shoulder. Lord John let his mind wander for a moment while he watched the two.
What could they possibly be doing out in a storm such as this? That maid is certain to meet hellfire when they return home to not care to protect the child against the weather.
As Lord John watched them, much to his astonishment, they paused just before his own house. Pulling a slip of paper from the folds of her dress, the maid studied it, looked at the house, and studied the writing again. Determined that she was correct, she pushed open the white gate and made her way forward.
Lord John was bewildered by this. He certainly was not expecting company. Few knew of his coming to London as he had made it a point to keep it to himself. He had hoped it would result in fewer distractions from his work. Even if his brother had told of his whereabouts to others, what purpose would a child have to come to him, and at such a late hour?
Lord John left the window and returned again to the space behind his desk. Instead of pacing as before, however, he situated himself in his high-backed leather chair. The knocking on the door followed by the high clicking of the housekeeper's shoes told him he was to be interrupted. He wanted to at least appear that he was busy writing his latest manuscript, even if no words had found their way to the page tonight.
"Beg your pardon, sir," a soft voice came through the door with a knock.
"Enter," Lord John called in a voice that seemed as if he was deep in work.
Lord John set down his pen just as Mrs. Smith, the housekeeper, entered the room. He covered up his blank papers quickly so it appeared as though he were working hard.
"I am sorry to interrupt, but a curious visitor has come to the door," Mrs. Smith informed him, with her hands presently placed in front of her.
"A visitor at this hour?" Lord John questioned, looking at his pocket watch.
He saw Mrs. Smith's grey eyebrow raise in questioning, and he guessed his acting skills were very wanting. Lord John let out a breath as he pocketed his timekeeper.
"I must confess I was at the window and saw them enter the garden. I'm sure you know I had no plans to receive company tonight. Did the visitors give names?"
"Yes," Mrs. Smith said with a soft smirk on her lips. "They were a sodden mess, so I hope you don't mind that I took the liberty of showing them into the house. I couldn't bear to have the little one in the rain any longer. The lady is a Miss Bridget Thatcher, and she brings with her a Miss Betsy Smelting."
"Betsy? That is my cousin Frank's daughter. Why on earth would she be here, and all on her own?" Lord John spoke though he more mused to himself.