An Affair of Honor Read Online Free PDF Page B

compliment. I shall certainly accept it as one. Now, do bustle about, you two, or Mama will soon be in a fret. Cook does not approve of odd dining hours, you know, and will be in a rare taking if you are not standing ready when her dinner is announced.”
    Clarissa’s high-pitched laughter sped Nell on her way to her own room where she found Madge, the tirewoman who had served her since her come-out, awaiting her. Quickly, she seated herself at the dressing table, relaxing while Madge’s skilled fingers dealt with the fashionable tangle of curls and plaits that adorned her head. Removing pins and brushing ruthlessly, Madge chattered as she always did, but Nell knew from vast experience that it was mostly rhetorical and required nothing more of her than an occasional murmur of interest. Thus, she was able to indulge her own thoughts without fear of offending her maid. That she might, as mistress, simply tell Madge to hold her tongue never occurred to her, which was just as well, for after years of similar indulgence, it would probably have done little good. Madge would merely think her out of temper and try to scold her into a more cheerful frame of mind.
    Fortunately, such drastic steps were unnecessary, and as the brush strokes became a sort of underbeat for the drone of Madge’s chatter, Nell found her thoughts returning to the seventh Earl of Huntley. There had certainly been more of a change in him than the mere change of title, she thought.
    Philip Radford had been about twenty-four when she had first met him. He had been handsome enough then, too, although his looks had been a good deal more boyish and his hair, minus the sidewhiskers, had been tied back neatly at the nape of his neck. Of all the young men she had met that Season, he, with his easy sense of humor, expressive, penetrating eyes, and friendly smile, had made the greatest impression. He had been kind and attentive, easier for her to talk with than most of the others, and he had made her feel quite grown up. She thought they had become excellent friends, despite the fact that he had been merely the younger son of an earl and therefore not precisely the sort of young man her parents might have expected her to marry. Her grandfather, after all, had been a marquess, and that fact added to her father’s very respectable fortune meant that Nell could look where she chose for a husband. It did not matter, however, for Philip Radford had not offered for her, and neither he nor any of the others had made an attempt to seek her out after her father’s untimely death. She had no idea what had become of him, and she had managed after a passage of time to convince herself that it did not matter.
    But now she recognized a strong sense of curiosity. What had he been doing these past years to change him so? The heavy, dark brows knitting together in a near shelf over those still expressive eyes seemed almost alarming now where once they had been merely interesting. Initially, to be sure, there had been that twinkle of amusement at her failure to recognize him. But the twinkle had faded rather quickly, replaced by a more cynical glint. He spoke little and seemed a good deal more at ease conversing with Lord Crossways, Sir Henry, or even Kit than he did when speaking to his intended wife or to the two older women. With Nell, he had exchanged not so much as a word after the introduction. It would be interesting, she thought now, to see if he would speak to her at dinner.
    Madge brushed her hair up into a twisted knot at the crown of her head and confined it there with two jeweled combs and a slim braid of Nell’s own hair. As a final touch she combed out a few curling tendrils to frame her mistress’s face, then stepped back to view the results of her handiwork, while Nell checked to be sure her pearl eardrops were firmly fixed in place.
    “That will do nicely, Madge,” she said, smiling into the looking glass. “I shall want my lace scarf, and then you may go.