A Lady's Guide to Ruin Read Online Free PDF

rather, a dozen diagnoses from as many doctors—but it had ruined the prime years of her social life.
    When at last she became engaged, it was a relief, but now poor Matthew was dead. Her grief had not lifted for years and now, at twenty-eight, her chances were poor. Oh, surely they could find her some husband—she was beautiful, after all, and rich. But since their father’s death theyhad pledged not to speak of it. It would be too desperate a process, she said, like she was a dog nosing for scraps.
    Any more talk of marriage was forestalled by Garland’s arrival. Martin waved him in. Garland entered the room the requisite number of steps and not a quarter inch farther, perfectly poised, though one drop of sweat gleamed on his patchy pate.
    â€œWhat was the business round back, then?” Martin asked.
    Garland’s gaze twitched in Elinor’s direction but he was by now accustomed to speaking freely in front of her. Martin thought more clearly with her by his side and it saved him the trouble of repeating information when he wanted her counsel. “A man looking for his sister. He was under the impression that she had entered the house.”
    â€œHis sister?” He frowned. “One of the servants . . . ?”
    â€œNo, sir. By the description, I believe he was referring to the young Miss Hargrove.”
    Martin’s eyebrows made a play for his hairline. “Daphne? Daphne has no brothers, and if she did, they would certainly not be so uncouth as to hammer at the back door.”
    â€œOf course, sir; it took some time to convince him that he was mistaken, however. I apologize for the delay. I do not believe he will trouble the household again.”
    â€œWhat did he say, exactly?”
    Garland, bless him, turned pink at the cheeks. “I cannot possibly repeat it in front of Lady Elinor,” he said, no small amount of apprehension straining his voice.
    Martin stifled a laugh. Elinor’s hand went to her throat, one finger idly tracing the vein at the side of her neck; shehad always done this, when holding in a laugh of her own. “On reflection, the exact words will not be necessary, Garland,” he said. “Only the substance, if you will.”
    â€œAh. Very well, my lord. The fellow stated that his sister had been seen in your company, wearing a—a dress of no great fashion, if you will.” The force of this last phrase told Martin that the man had not been nearly so polite in his description. “That she was recently escaped from Bethlem Hospital, and that she had stolen something of great value from him.”
    â€œBethlem Hospital?” Martin echoed. Those eyebrows were going to vanish into his hair entirely if he didn’t get them under control. He did his best to smooth his features into studied calm. “How alarming. Though from the sound of it, perhaps he is the one better suited to the place.”
    â€œWhat about it, Daphne? Any trips to Bedlam, recently?” Elinor asked. Martin jerked. Daphne had indeed materialized at the other door, her hand on the knob as if it was the only thing keeping her upright.
    The bonnet was gone, and the hideous dress; what remained left his mouth queerly dry. Her hair was cut short, and was combed in lively waves about her ears, somehow making her elfin features all the more feminine. And those eyes—they had arrested him on the street, and their effect on him was only more forceful now. No trace of tears in her, and even the way she gripped at the knob spoke of a desperate strength. One he would not wish on any woman. Looking at her now, he would not believe that she was capable of dissolving into tears.
    She let out a sound. After a moment, he realized it was meant to be a laugh. “Bedlam? No, I think not,” she said. “Though the past few days have left me feeling a little mad.”
    â€œAll the most interesting people are a little bit mad,” Martin declared,