Grace Burrowes Quote
The door to the little dining parlor banged open, the apologetic footman rushing in behind a young woman St. Just had not seen before. She was trussed up in a shapeless black bombazine dress covering her from ankles to wrist to neck, an equally hideous black bonnet on her head. That is not my tart, the earl observed to no one in particular. Bronwyn! The woman leapt across the room and wrapped her arms around Winnie, the bonnet tumbling off in her haste. Oh, Winnie, you naughty, naughty child, I’ve been searching all over for you. Hullo, Miss Emmie. Winnie beamed a grin, hugging the lady back. Rosecroft says we’re going to have apple tarts. Madam? The earl rose and bowed. Rosecroft, at your service. My lord. She bobbed a nervous curtsy then swiveled back to the child. Winnie, are you all right? I had to take a bath. Winnie frowned at the memory. But I ate and ate and ate. I am not a gentleman, though. You took a bath? Miss Farnum’s eyes went round. My lord? Did I hear her aright? With lavender bubbles, the earl replied gravely. And you would be? Miss Emmaline Farnum, she said, eyes narrowing. Just how did you get her to take a bath? The earl narrowed his eyes, as well. Perhaps that is a discussion we adults might reserve for later. And as I wouldn’t want to be guilty of breaking my word to a child, may I invite you to join us for apple tarts, Miss Farnum? The footman withdrew at the earl’s lifted eyebrow while the child’s gaze bounced back and forth between the adults. Winnie sat, all innocence in an old nightshirt somebody had dragged out of a trunk. Her golden curls gleamed, and on her feet were wool socks many sizes too big. Apple tarts sound delicious, Miss Farnum said.
The door to the little dining parlor banged open, the apologetic footman rushing in behind a young woman St. Just had not seen before. She was trussed up in a shapeless black bombazine dress covering her from ankles to wrist to neck, an equally hideous black bonnet on her head. That is not my tart, the earl observed to no one in particular. Bronwyn! The woman leapt across the room and wrapped her arms around Winnie, the bonnet tumbling off in her haste. Oh, Winnie, you naughty, naughty child, I’ve been searching all over for you. Hullo, Miss Emmie. Winnie beamed a grin, hugging the lady back. Rosecroft says we’re going to have apple tarts. Madam? The earl rose and bowed. Rosecroft, at your service. My lord. She bobbed a nervous curtsy then swiveled back to the child. Winnie, are you all right? I had to take a bath. Winnie frowned at the memory. But I ate and ate and ate. I am not a gentleman, though. You took a bath? Miss Farnum’s eyes went round. My lord? Did I hear her aright? With lavender bubbles, the earl replied gravely. And you would be? Miss Emmaline Farnum, she said, eyes narrowing. Just how did you get her to take a bath? The earl narrowed his eyes, as well. Perhaps that is a discussion we adults might reserve for later. And as I wouldn’t want to be guilty of breaking my word to a child, may I invite you to join us for apple tarts, Miss Farnum? The footman withdrew at the earl’s lifted eyebrow while the child’s gaze bounced back and forth between the adults. Winnie sat, all innocence in an old nightshirt somebody had dragged out of a trunk. Her golden curls gleamed, and on her feet were wool socks many sizes too big. Apple tarts sound delicious, Miss Farnum said.
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