Page 3 of Unforeseen Affairs
“Colin Gearing,” she echoed, as if reading his mind. “SirColin.”
Yes, he had been knighted, much to his discomfort. True, the holds of the privateer ships had been chock-a-block with spoils, but now he was forever tied to a foul bit of stew, which to him felt quite arbitrary and more than a little embarrassing.
It didn’t help that his hair, the deep coppery red of generations of Gearings, made for such a striking image that he was instantly recognizable on the covers of the tawdry yellowbacks containinga trussed-up version of his tale that were sold at railway stations across the country for a few shillings apiece.
But Colin knew that wasn’t who he was. He was no hero. He was just a sailor like any other.
Or, rather, hehadbeen.
He reached up to rub his temple.
The young woman, who still had yet to identify herself, continued to make her way confidently through his house. Colin frowned.
“I beg your pardon, but where are we headed?”
What he really wanted to say was, “Who the dickens are you and what are you doing, wandering about my family’s home at teatime?” But he was still a gentleman.
He glanced sidelong at her, and could’ve sworn he saw the hint of a smile play upon her lips. What a strange girl.
“Do you always ask this many questions?” she asked coldly.
Another non-answer. Colin held back a sigh. They turned right down another hall, heading toward the sunny parlor where his mother usually took her tea. This was becoming ridiculous; he’d better go ahead and get to the point.
“Look, Miss… well. I’m sure you were there, passing by the library, when you had the misfortune to overhear a bit of a… overhear me give a somewhatribaldtoast. I’m aware it was thoroughly coarse and utterly objectionable to the ears of a young lady such as yourself, but please understand, I believed myself to be only in the company of my…”
His words trailed off as they approached the open doors of the parlor, from which his mother’s conversation spilled out into the hall.
Does no one in this house close a bloody door?Colin thought, suddenly exasperated.
He shook his head, recovered his train of thought, and continued. “That is to say, I apologize for my language.Wholeheartedly.” He paused just before the threshold and allowed her to go ahead, as it seemed this was her intended destination.
She turned and studied his face for what felt an uncomfortably long time.
“Alright,” she finally said, then turned and went into the parlor.
Colin, taken aback once again, stood rooted to the floor for a moment before, against his better judgment, he followed her into the room.
“Ah! Colin,” his mother piped up from her perch upon a settee. “I see you’ve acquainted yourself with Miss Sedley.”
A Sedley? Well then, that explains it all.
“Charlotte Sedley,” the girl added, her dark eyes twinkling with mischief.
Happy to have his incredulity replaced with a simple, easy explanation, Colin bowed gently, feeling far less flustered this time.
The girl was a Sedley. Everyone knew that temperaments ran hot and batty with that lot.Mad as a Sedley, he’d always heard—always from some white-whiskered gentleman, and always followed by a knowing chuckle. And sometimes, a reluctant admission that, in spite of it all, Sedley’s Satin Black Boot Polish was a sound product. So said their valets, anyway.
“Come in, Colin, dear. Allow me to introduce Mrs. Stone,” his mother exhorted.
Miss Sedley drifted farther into the room, alighting upon a couch next to a tiny, bird-like woman draped in black lace and veils, whom Colin surmised must be Mrs. Stone. Another seemingly strange creature.
“My son, Sir Colin Gearing.” Mrs. Gearing gestured to the small woman donning what seemed to be widow’s weeds. “Mrs. Elsie Stone.”
He gave another bow as the lady in black nodded.
He really ought to get back to Beaky and Kettlewell; they’d a whole evening of planned merriment before them. But Colin took a seat, as a dutiful son should. He spared a brief glance at his mother. That morning she’d been maudlin while recounting the day he was born, but she now seemed in high spirits, her color healthy and her dress tidy.
“Miss Sedley is Mrs. Stone’s assistant,” his mother said. “She was examining the rooms, looking for something suitable.”
