The Nabob’s Designing Daughter by Alina K. Field EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author: Alina K. Field
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Series: None
- Price: Free
- File Size: 1 MB
AN UNEXPECTED KISS
LATE SUMMER, 1820
EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND
Errol Robillard leaned on the bar of the busy taproom of the inn that had
once been his father’s.
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“Money, ye say?” Pherson MacIver tapped the top of the rough-hewn
counter.
He ought to have known better than to ask the old skinflint for help.
MacIver had bought the struggling business after Errol’s father’s death and
built it up into one of the most prosperous posting inns in Edinburgh. He had
plenty of money but lacked the generous heart that had caused Errol’s father
to struggle.
But, needs must. “Aye. With Beecham’s death, I’m looking for help with
the university fees. Two more years to go and I’ll be a qualified physician
and surgeon, and be able to pay you back.”
The fat fellow grunted. “I’d heard aught was wrong there. Ship lost, they
say.” He mashed his rubbery lips together. “Here, now. If ye’ve need of
work, why, I could use a man like you. Pay a salary. Save up if ye like and go
back to that college.”
The ale suddenly tasted sour. He would not turn aside from his ambitions
despite—or perhaps because of—his lowly roots. “I thank ye for the offer.”
His mam had taught him manners. His da had taught him to not burn his
boats. But more than anything, he wanted to turn the rest of his tankard over
MacIver’s head. “I’ll be off,” he said. “Early day tomorrow.”
“Beecham’s funeral. Grand affair it will be.”
“Aye.”
He took himself off to the single room he rented near the University.
The weather the next morning had been as weepy as the mourners inside the
respectable townhouse that was the home of the late Horace Beecham.
The funeral reception had ended; friends and business associates had left
the widow and her large brood to their private grief. They’d all departed,
except for himself, Errol Robillard, but then he was more than a friend or
business associate. At Beecham’s behest and expense, Errol had attended a
day school with the man’s two eldest boys, William and Peter, and, when not
studying or laboring at his father’s inn, he’d worked hard at Beecham’s
textile warehouse.
William Beecham was his best friend. Whether he was a good enough
friend to continue paying Errol’s schooling was a question he hadn’t yet
raised, and his university fees were due.
He needed to speak to William, later, when Mrs. Beecham and the rest of
the family had retired. But first, a breath of air, damp though it might be, was
in order, before he made his vulgar but necessary inquiry.
In the garden, the herb-scented air filled his lungs but didn’t clear his
head or comfort his heart. Beecham’s death followed too closely on his own
father’s passing two years earlier. In fact, he still grieved his mother’s
passing several years before that.
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