The Wagered Miss Winslow
“Rosalind looked into the mirror, seeing Bridget’s red-cheeked face reflected in the glass behind her. “Shingerleens, Bridget?” she questioned, frowning as she touched her hands to the pale-pink ribbons that hung from the puffed sleeves of her hastily constructed ivory silk wedding gown. “Do you mean these?”
“Aye, missy—those ribbons and bows. Bobby always did fancy ribbons and bows. Why, once he stole me the loveliest bit of satin for m’saint’s day—it touched me no end, don’t you know, even as I was cuffin’ his ears.”
Rosalind laughed, for she had heard more than one amusing story of Beau’s checkered youth on the streets of Dublin. It no longer surprised her to hear that he might have chanced to filch the occasional frippery from the stalls in the marketplace. She was not such a fool as to believe he’d had an easy time of it, living hand-to-mouth as Bridget’s father grew older and had more trouble finding work that paid a decent wage.
“Beau does have a hint of larceny in him, that’s f...or certain,”MoreLess
“Aye, missy—those ribbons and bows. Bobby always did fancy ribbons and bows. Why, once he stole me the loveliest bit of satin for m’saint’s day—it touched me no end, don’t you know, even as I was cuffin’ his ears.”
Rosalind laughed, for she had heard more than one amusing story of Beau’s checkered youth on the streets of Dublin. It no longer surprised her to hear that he might have chanced to filch the occasional frippery from the stalls in the marketplace. She was not such a fool as to believe he’d had an easy time of it, living hand-to-mouth as Bridget’s father grew older and had more trouble finding work that paid a decent wage.
“Beau does have a hint of larceny in him, that’s f...or certain,”MoreLess
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