Finding Jane Fairfax by Robbin J. Peterson EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: Robbin J. Peterson
- Language: English
- Genre: Regency Historical Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
London, March 4, 1802
FRANK CHURCHILL’S NURSEMAID, MISS FLORA Coleman, stopped him on the
crowded cobblestone street. “Now, Master Frank, be a good boy when ye
see yer father today. No trying to run off like ye are sometimes prone to
do.” She rubbed at something she must have seen on his face.
“Miss Flora!” Frank whispered in protest and brushed her hand away. A
passerby walked around them, and Frank stared, embarrassed.
London was bursting with life. Horses, carriages, women with baskets,
men speaking angrily to each other, babies crying, dogs, chickens—all
noise and bustle. So different from secluded Enscombe nestled in the forests
of Yorkshire. And so far away. It had taken them over five days to get here.
Frank loved his yearly adventure to London, even with the misfortune of
having to see his father.
Miss Flora sighed and reached for his collar like he was still a small boy.
It wasn’t as though he was just breeched; he was nearly eleven.
He pushed up his top hat, which was still a little big. “I shan’t be more
than a few moments with the old toast.” He couldn’t understand why Miss
Flora cared about his appearance—it was just his father. His aunt and uncle
certainly didn’t hold a high regard for him. That’s why they always had
Miss Flora escort him everywhere.
She raised a hand to her mouth in shock. “‘Old toast’? Where did ye hear
such a vulgar expression?” She glared fiercely. “If yer aunt heard ye say
that—don’t ye care about me position, Master Frank?”
“Of course I care. I would never say such a thing in Aunt Horatia’s
presence.”
Distressed, Miss Flora shook her head. “Is this the new stablehand’s
doing? Even with such a short acquaintance with him, see what ye’ve
learned.”
“No, Miss Flora, do not wish him gone. I like Sam. He told me how to
skin a rabbit.”
Miss Flora made a shocked sound, which silenced Frank. Perhaps it
would be unwise to mention that Sam had taught him to whistle as well.
After several seconds she muttered, “Old toast indeed,” as she craned her
neck, looking about them. “He is certainly running late. Did he not say the
corner of Stepney and Bow? Same place as last?”
Frank stared at his shoes. “He probably arrived two days ago, early for
the occasion, but got distracted by a business proposition.”
He met her eyes, and Miss Flora’s hard look turned soft. She cleared her
throat. “While we wait, let’s go into this shop and buy yer father a gift.”
Frank nodded and glanced at the window, blackened by the soot of the
city. He could just make out a shiny brass object behind others. Could it be
a trumpet? His heart sped up. He had heard a trumpet once. It was loud and
lovely and sang like he imagined a ship would if it could sing. His aunt
would never allow it, but if he could hide it somehow . . .
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