Carla Kelly Read Online Free PDF Page A

That was noncommittal enough, Susan thought as the door closed behind her. I could become an accomplished liar, if I worked at it.
    Her determination wavered as the wind tugged at her skirts and spat snow into her face. I could return this book tomorrow, she thought as she stood, indecisive, on the front step. But it was beautiful outside, with a skiff of snow covering muck on the road and muffling the sound of horses’ hooves. She shrugged at the particles of snow that trickled down her neck and started off at a brisk pace.
    The lending library was busier than she expected, considering the blustery nature of the day. Obviously she was not the only person on the planet who enjoyed stretching out on the sofa with a good book, especially on a raw day. But now what? Susan returned the book and stood looking out at the snow, panicked suddenly by the realization that she had no idea how to look for employment. Her mind in turmoil, she watched a young matron with her small daughter, their heads together over a book. The sight, a familiar one from her own experience, calmed her and gave her an idea. She remembered earlier, more plentiful days, when she had a governess.
    Well, here I go, she thought as she made her graceful way through the stacks toward the woman.
    “Excuse me, madam,” she said, smiling and extending her hand. “My name is Susan Hampton. I am new to London, and I am looking for both an abigail and a nursemaid. Do you know . . . can you tell me of employment agencies in town?”
    The woman smiled back and handed the book to her daughter. “It’s hard to find good servants!” she said, taking in Susan’s modish pelisse and smart bonnet.
    Yes, I am one of your kind, Susan thought as she dimpled and smiled back. You can speak to me, for I am, as of ten-thirty this morning, still respectable. “It is so hard to find help?” she asked, her eyes wide with what she hoped was country naiveté. How excellent for my chances, she considered. Perhaps I will be lucky today, if good servants form a distinct minority.
    “Let me suggest the Steinman Agency, four blocks toward the Strand,” the woman replied, gesturing toward the window. She leaned close to Susan then. “That’s where I found our treasure of a governess. Of course, Steinman is Jewish, but a good businessman.”
    The woman giggled behind her hand, and Susan joined in. My, we are superior Christians, she thought. Enjoy the hypocrisy while you can, Susan. When you’re earning a living, you’ll be fair game, too. She thanked the woman for her advice and left the bookstore. It was snowing in good earnest now, but she bowed her head against the wind and hurried on.
    Susan almost walked past the agency, but STEINMAN in modest letters on an iron plaque caught the edge of her vision. She stopped and stared at the door, wishing that an earthquake would suddenly swallow it. I could always pretend to myself that I couldn’t find the place, she considered. Maybe in a year or two, I would even believe that I had done the right thing by winding myself back into Aunt Louisa’s web.
    But there it was, a substantial door with two neatly curtained windows to the side. A discreet sign in the window closer to the door said NOW HIRING . Susan took a deep breath and opened the door.
    A young man looked up from the desk as a blast of wind came in with her. He grabbed at the paper he was writing on, leaning on it with his body and trying to clutch other papers now fluttering to the floor. Susan closed the door quickly behind her, wondering briefly why he did not just grab the papers, and then noting that he had only one arm. Oh, this is a good beginning, she thought as she knelt on the floor and began to gather up the papers.
    “There you are, sir,” she said a moment later. “I’m sorry for the commotion.”
    “Well, until I reach such a lame disposition that I have to blame a young lady for the wind, I thank you.”
    She smiled at him and held out her hand. “I am