Rogue in the Regency Ballroom: Rogue's Widow, Gentleman's Wife / A Scoundrel of Consequence. Helen DicksonЧитать онлайн книгу.
and all its legendary tales of Robin Hood. Over the Derbyshire hills lay the sprawling metropolis of Manchester, which was where Amanda had lived all her life.
Her father must have been watching out for her because, the moment the carriage came to a halt, he came hurrying down the steps with a restless vitality, beaming broadly and as fast as his short, barrel-chested frame allowed. Despite having a brilliant head for business there was something coarse and earthy about Henry O’Connell that most people found appealing, especially Amanda—although she did not realise that this was because she possessed some of those same qualities, despite twenty years of effort on the part of her nanny and governess to eradicate them.
With a happy smile and carrying her veiled black bonnet, Amanda hurried to meet him, throwing her arms about his neck and hugging him, the smell of brandy and cigars on his warm breath fanning her cheeks.
‘Here, now, let me look at you,’ he said, holding her at arm’s length and examining her face with his piercing grey eyes. ‘Aye, you’ve grown lovelier than ever. You get more like your mother every day. You’ve enjoyed your year in Charleston—Quinn kept me informed. Though you made a spectacle of yourself on occasion, you’ve done nothing to bring shame on us. But why did you go all the way to Southampton? Why not Liverpool?’
Amanda laughed awkwardly, unable to look him in the eyes as she avoided mentioning the real reason that had taken her to London. ‘I—I wanted to spend a few days in London, do some quality shopping—you know how it is with us females, Father.’
‘Aye, I do that. Spent more of my money, I don’t doubt,’ he said, tweaking her cheek with mock reproach, ‘but to my mind there’s nothing wrong with the shops in Manchester.’
Amanda laughed lightly. ‘Since you know absolutely nothing about ladies’ fashions, Father, that is exactly the sort of remark I would expect from you.’
‘And where were all the letters you promised to write? No doubt your head was too full of nonsensical matters and you were too occupied to read letters from your old da that you considered to be monstrously dull, eh?’ he reproached her good humouredly, his eyes all of a twinkle.
Amanda laughed, looking fondly at his round face with its ruddy features and his mutton-chop whiskers, which, like his hair, were vividly white. ‘You’re not old and I did read them—I just never got round to writing back as often as I should, that’s all.’
‘’Tis sorry I am to hear about Lucy, and ’tis sad I am that I never got to see her before she died,’ he said on a more sombre note, the brogue of his native Ireland still heavy on his tongue despite his thirty years in England. ‘But what’s this?’ Detecting an air of dejection about his daughter, he tipped her chin and peered sharply into her face. ‘Where’s the sparkle I remember in those bonny green eyes, eh—and when did you take to wearing black?’ he remarked, eyeing her sombre garb with distaste.
‘When Aunt Lucy died,’ Amanda replied, feeling that now was not the time to tell him of her widowed state. Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she smiled to reassure him. ‘Don’t worry, Father, I’m perfectly fine. It’s been a long journey and I swear I can still feel the wretched motion of the ship. I never was a good sailor. There—is something I have to tell you, but it can wait until later.’
‘So it will—and cheer up. What with all the parties and such we’ve got planned to be having here at the house, you’ll be forgetting all about Charleston in a month.’
Amanda looked up at the towering edifice. Built in golden yellow stone enriched by splendid carving, with its long front and central Ionic portico, and three storeys high, Eden Park was quite remarkable. ‘You’ve been busy while I’ve been away. I never dreamed you’d be so extravagant as to buy a house of such grand proportions. I swear there must be enough rooms to house an army.’
‘So there is—so there is,’ he agreed, puffing out his chest and looking at his new domain with pride. ‘I told Quinn what you could expect. Did I exaggerate?’
‘Not at all. I am impressed, although I can’t help feeling a certain sadness at not returning to Rochdale. It has always been my home.’
‘Aye, lass, I know, but you’ll find this place is like a tonic. You’ll soon forget about Rochdale and agree that Eden Park is a desirable retreat from the engine and factory fumes and noise of Manchester.’
Amanda’s brows lifted over knowing green eyes. ‘Maybe so, but not too far away so you can’t keep your finger on the pulse, eh, Father?’
Henry’s lips quirked and, reaching out, he brushed his fingers against her cheek. ‘You know me too well.’
‘Will you be able to stand being a gentleman of leisure, Father?’
‘The company is as vigorous and healthy as it always has been so I’ve no worries there.’
Amanda smiled at him. ‘Which is a striking endorsement to your skill in selecting the people who work for you.’
‘Aye, well, I pay them well enough for it. I only wish I’d bought something like this years back. You wait until you see the stables. Splendid, they are, splendid, and I intend filling every box with only the finest horseflesh. I’ll have the best in the district, you see if I don’t. What I need is someone who knows a good horse when he sees one. But come and meet your new stepmother—and don’t be saying anything untoward now,’ he warned, seeing her eyes cloud over, ‘because it’s been a long time since your mother died and you won’t be with me for ever.’
‘So you thought it was time to consolidate your gains and get married,’ Amanda remarked, unable to hide the anxiety this had caused her.
‘Caroline married me for myself, not my money, if that’s what you are thinking—she has plenty of her own without mine. She’s good for me—a true lady she is, too—none finer.’
Amanda stiffened when a woman came to stand by his side and linked an arm through his. It was a casual gesture, as if it were the most natural thing to do. Her father beamed down at her, patting her hand.
‘This is Caroline. Caroline, my dear, this is my daughter, Amanda.’
‘I know.’ She laughed. ‘Your father has told me so much about you that I feel I already know you. Welcome home, Amanda—to your new home, that is. I’m so pleased to meet you at last. I do so hope you will be happy living at Eden Park.’
There was such an air of kindliness about her that Amanda felt herself begin to relax. ‘Well, it’s certainly a change from where we lived before.’
‘I’ve been urging your father for months to move to the country. To get him away from the office,’ she said, looking meaningfully at her husband.
Henry patted her hand affectionately. ‘Aye—you’ll find Caroline gets her own way in most things.’
‘I am also selfish, self-centred and inclined to say and do things without thinking and Henry gets furious with me, but it does no good,’ she told Amanda with a twinkle in her eye for her husband. ‘But come, let’s go inside. I’ll show you around later. I’m sure you’re in need of refreshment after your long journey. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve arranged what rooms you shall have. I’ll take you there now and we can have a quiet gossip as we go.’
Warming to the older woman, Amanda decided there and then that Caroline would be good for her father. In her late forties, she was still attractive. Independent and tough-minded, too, Amanda supposed. Undoubtedly someone who could persuade her father to pay less attention to his work that had been his life, and move away from Manchester, which had been the hub of his empire, had to have those qualities to be successful. It was not going to be as hard accepting her as she had thought.
Upon entering the house, Amanda looked dazedly about her, wondering if she had come to a royal palace by mistake. Everything about this eighteenth-century house was light, graceful and elegant. It was filled with paintings, delicate, gilded scrollwork and thick carpets, softer than the smoothest lawns. Her own rooms were furnished