Читать книгу: «A Kiss Away From Scandal»

Chapter Two

‘Good evening, my lord.’ Hope Strickland stood in front of a mirror in the hall of the Comstock town house, examining her smile for traces of insincerity before deciding that it was as near to perfect as she could manage.

Then, she curtsied, analysing the results. She was not inexperienced with the niceties due a peer, but that did not mean she should not practise. First impressions were the most important ones. There could be no flaw in hers.

Not that it was likely to matter. The odds of success were almost nil. But if there was any chance at all to impress the next Earl of Comstock, she meant to try.

Now that Faith had married, Hope was left as oldest. It was her job to carry on as best she could and take care of the family that remained. It was clear, from their scattershot behaviour, that Charity and Grandmama needed all the help they could get.

She dipped again. The bend in her knees was not quite deep enough and her eyes could not seem to hold the fine line between deference and flirtation.

‘Are you still at that?’ Charity was standing in the doorway, arms folded in disapproval.

‘It pays to be prepared,’ Hope replied, straightening the curl on the left side of her face that could never seem to follow its mates into a proper coiffure.

‘Prepared to bow and scrape for the stranger coming to take our house out from under us?’ Charity said.

Hope bit back the urge to announce that it was her sister who needed to mind her manners. Instead, she said, ‘It is his house. We are but guests in it.’

‘Family, you mean,’ Charity responded.

‘It would be nice to think so.’ Hope turned away from the mirror to face Charity. ‘I prefer to take a more realistic view of the situation. Though we share a surname, he has never met us before. He will not think of us as family unless we work hard to make him do so. When he arrives, we should greet him with warm welcomes and friendly smiles.’

‘You don’t wish to befriend him. You want to marry him. What are your plans if that does not happen? If you mean to be prepared, it should be against all eventualities.’ Charity was far too logical for her own good. But that was no surprise. It had always been her nature to find the weakness in any plan and jab mercilessly at it until her opponent relented.

‘If the Earl is not impressed with me, we shall have to make decent matches while we are in town. Then we will set up our own households and not concern ourselves with him or his property.’ She put a subtle emphasis on the word we, hoping that her sister would acknowledge the seriousness of the situation and do her share to fix it. Hope had no real fear of failure for herself. But they had always known that things would not be as easy for Charity. And as she usually did, Charity was making matters worse with her refusal to even look for a husband.

‘We must also thank Mr Leggett for his generosity in making a Season possible,’ Hope added. She touched her skirt to remind her sister of the elegant wardrobes they’d purchased since coming to town. Before their sister had married, it had felt as if they’d been trimming, re-trimming and altering the same tired gowns for ages. But now, everything in their cupboards was fresh and new.

But you could not tell it from looking at Charity, who was wearing a gown that was two years old and could best be described as serviceable. It had done well enough for hiding in the manor library, but it was totally wrong for London. Her sister had noticed her silent criticism and responded, ‘There will be time for me to play dress up later. Right now, I have other plans.’

Hope gave her a firm but encouraging smile. ‘Of course you do. But it will be rather hard to carry them out while rusticating in the country.’

‘For you, perhaps. I was doing quite well right where I was. The sooner you allow me to return to Berkshire the easier it will be on all of us.’ While Hope had jumped at the chance to come to town, Charity had done nothing but complain since the moment they’d arrived.

‘You speak of my need for alternate plans,’ Hope said, smiling to hide her frustration. ‘Do you have any of your own? When the Earl arrives, you cannot simply dig in your heels and refuse to vacate the manor. If he asks you to go, you will have to leave.’

Charity smiled. ‘I do not need a second plan. The first one is near to fruition and I will be long gone before he ever sets foot in the house. If you would only allow me to return to the country...’

And there it was, again. The solution her little sister was continually hinting at, but refused to reveal. It did not sound as though she meant to reason with the new owner—as if there was a man on the planet who wished to be reasoned with by a girl just out of the schoolroom. But if not that, then what could it be? ‘This plan of yours...’ Hope hinted. ‘I assume it does not include marriage? Because to achieve that, you might consider accepting some of the invitations you receive.’

Then, a worrisome thought struck her. ‘Promise me you do not mean to dishonour yourself. We are not as desperate for money as all that.’

Charity laughed harshly. ‘My dear sister, you may lie to yourself about your own future, but please do not lie about mine. She stepped forward and took Hope by the shoulders, turning her so they stood reflected, side by side in the mirror. ‘No man will have me for a mistress. I am not pretty enough. I fully intend to marry, when the time is right. But it will take more than a new gown and a perfect curtsy for me to catch a husband. I will need a dowry.’ She reached up and adjusted her spectacles, as if assessing her own appearance. ‘A substantial one, I should think. It will take more money than average to compensate for both appearance and manner.’

‘Do not say that about yourself,’ Hope said hurriedly. But it was true. It was one thing to be a plain girl and quite another to be an intelligent one who could not manage to keep her opinions to herself. ‘I am sure, once the Earl comes...’

‘You will marry him, and he will look kindly on your beloved but eccentric, spinster sister?’ Charity patted her shoulder. ‘You are normally a very sensible girl, Hope. That is why it pains me to see you delude yourself.’

‘I just want to see you happy,’ Hope said. It was not as much a want as a responsibility. Now that Faith was gone, someone had to look out for the family and neither Charity nor Grandmama had the sense to take charge.

‘I am happy,’ Charity said softly. ‘It may surprise you to hear it, but it is true. Do not concern yourself with my future. Think of your own. I hear Grandmother has got vouchers for Almack’s. You must go and dance every dance, even without the presence of the Earl.’

‘Of course,’ Hope said, then gave her sister a pointed look. ‘And you will come with me.’

‘Perhaps,’ Charity agreed, oblivious to the order she had been given. Then she kissed Hope on the cheek and turned to go up the stairs to her room. ‘If I am not busy with something more important.’

Hope sighed. It was better than a flat refusal. Knowing Charity, by Wednesday there would be some excuse that would prevent her from coming out with them. But it did not matter. Just as her sister had suggested, Hope would go and dance until her feet ached. She would be as charming as she possibly could and see to it that every gentleman in London had met and been dazzled by Miss Strickland.

There was no point in being a wallflower. The new Earl of Comstock could have his pick of any girl in England. He would not look twice at a girl who was not courted by others.

She turned back to the mirror, and flashed a smile that would blind a duke at twenty paces. Then, the curtsy. ‘Good evening, my lord.’ This time, she dipped deeper and felt an embarrassing tremble in her front knee. She was nearly one and twenty, but hardly infirm. She could do better. She must do better.

She tried again. ‘Good evening, my lord.’

‘I should think good morning would be more appropriate. It is not yet eleven.’

She stumbled at the sound of a voice behind her and raised her eyes to see the reflection of the stranger who had entered the room as she practised.

It was he.

It had to be. Who else but the Earl of Comstock would be wandering around the house unintroduced, as if he owned it? In a sense, he did.

‘And I have no title.’

‘As of yet,’ she said. There was no longer a need to practise her smile. When she looked at him, it came naturally. Who would not be happy in the presence of such a handsome man? Though she had never been one to dote on the male form, his was perfectly proportioned, neither too tall nor too short, with slim hips and broad shoulders on which rested the head of a Roman God. His blond hair was cut à la Brutus, curling faintly at the fringe that framed a noble brow, unmarked by signs of worry. His grey eyes were intelligent, his smile sympathetic.

Praise God, she had been delivered just the man she’d prayed would come: young, handsome and, judging by the twinkle that shone in those beautiful eyes as he looked at her, single. But not for long, if she had her way.

He tilted his head. ‘You are correct. I have no title, as of yet. Nor am I likely to get one. But they are sometimes awarded to men whose service merits them and I am not yet thirty. With time and effort, anything is possible, Miss Strickland.’

She steadied herself from the shock and turned to face him with as much grace as possible, struggling to maintain the expression she’d been practising in the mirror. ‘Then you are not my cousin from America?’

‘The future Earl of Comstock?’ His smile softened. ‘Unfortunately, no.’ He bowed from the waist. ‘Gregory Drake, at your service, Miss Strickland. I was told you’d be expecting me.’

She could feel her smile faltering and struggled against the impolite response, who?

More importantly, how? She glanced to the front door which had not opened to admit anyone, much less this interloper. Then, she made an effort to compose herself. ‘I fear you were incorrectly informed. I was not told there would be a guest this morning. You have caught me unprepared.’

He followed her eyes, read the meaning and gave a deferential dip of his head. ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Strickland. I was retained by your brother-in-law to help with certain difficulties your family is experiencing. Since the matter is one that requires discretion, I entered through the rear to avoid calling attention.’

‘The tradesman’s entrance.’ Of course he had. If Mr Leggett had hired him, why should he not begin there?

He nodded, solemnly.

A torrent of unladylike words filled her mind about trumped-up nobodies with delusions of a grand future who had the gall to tease her with them. And worse yet, who had the nerve to look like the answer to a maiden’s prayers. He had no right to be so handsome, yet so inappropriate.

Then, the rant changed to encompass her sister’s husband, who had hired this...this...person. She ended with a scold for Grandmama, who probably knew the whole story and had neglected to tell her any of it, just as she had with the difficulties surrounding an audit. The Dowager probably thought it amusing to throw the two of them together so Hope might make a fool of herself.

When she was sure that her actual words would leave her mouth with a minimum of bile, she said, ‘So Mr Leggett has sent you to save us from ourselves.’

Her control was not perfect. She still sounded ungrateful, but she had a right to be angry. She had been behaving like an idiot when he’d entered. It likely confirmed what he already thought of the family: that they were a houseful of silly women, incapable of caring for themselves.

Of course, that was what she often thought, when faced with the latest exploit of her sister or her grandmother. She did not deny that they had problems, but how could a stranger possibly understand them the way she did?

She forced another smile. It was not the warm one she was saving for the Earl. The one she gave to Mr Drake was sufficient for solicitors and shopkeepers. ‘How much has Mr Leggett told you about our difficulty?’

‘Everything, I suspect. You seek the return of certain items before an impending inventory.’ If he thought her rude, he did not show it. His manner reflected hers. He was professionally pleasant, but revealed no trace of his true thoughts or feelings.