Jack of Clubs Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Her highness wants to know if Cap’n Jack plays.”
    The neighbor grinned and said, “That’s part of the interview, onct you get past Mr. Downs.”
    Allie could not help her gasp. “He…dallies with the staff?”
    Both women laughed out loud. The first one winked and said, “Only if you’re lucky, luv. Only if you are lucky. But not blondes or brunettes, so you won’t get to find out.”
    The other woman looked at Harriet. “And your chit’s got red hair, but she’s far too young. Cap’n Jack don’t play with dollies.”
    Allie was not sure of the women’s meaning. She was sure, however, that this was no proper place for Harriet. Or for her.
    Gone was her dream of a considerate, sober gentleman who would accept his responsibilities and provide a loving household for an orphaned girl…and her governess. The officer must be a depraved rake, a London libertine, the worst sort of swine.
    Oh, dear.
    She walked back toward Harriet, who was carving her initials into the bench with a hatpin one of the women must have dropped.
    â€œDo not do that!” Allie said, sitting down and wishing she could shut her eyes and have this nightmare fade away. She’d be back at Mrs. Semple’s, correcting French conjugations and reminding her students to sit up straight. No, if she was going to have pleasant dreams, she would imagine herself back in Suffolk at Papa’s side while he read a book to her. Instead, the scratch of the pin on the wood kept her right here, in purgatory with painted women.
    â€œStop, I said!”
    â€œWhy, we’re not staying anyway. I heard the women. I’m too young and you’re not pretty enough.”
    â€œThat was not what they said. And we—you—are staying. The captain is your legal guardian unless someone else steps forward. He has to make provision for you.” Allie hoped so, anyway.
    The carrot-top from across the way came and sat next to Allie. She was pretty in a soft, rounded way, and had the first friendly smile Allie had seen in London. Allie ignored the expanse of bosom billowing over the other woman’s gown and smiled back.
    â€œHow do, miss. I’m Darla Danforth. I used to be Dora Dawes, but Darla sounds a lot better, don’t it?”
    Allie bit her lip before she corrected the young woman’s grammar out of habit. “I am, ah, pleased to meet you, Miss Dawes. Or Danforth. I am Miss Allison Silver, and this is my charge, Miss Harriet Hildebrand. Harriet, practice your curtsy.”
    Harriet gave her a sullen look but stood and bobbed awkwardly before slumping back onto the bench. Her manners were lacking, her posture was atrocious but, Allie noted, her first
H
on the bench was perfectly formed. At least those months at Mrs. Semple’s were not an entire waste.
    Darla smiled. “How sweet. But you are new here, aren’t you?”
    How could she tell? Just because Allie was sitting next to a pile of suitcases, her traveling gown was stained and wrinkled, and her hair was trailing in witch’s locks from under her bonnet’s brim? Or because she was appalled to be in the room with so many fast women. “You might say so,” she admitted.
    â€œThen let me give you a couple of hints, dearie. You’ll need them, ’cause you’re too old.”
    Allie sat up straighter, wondering at the woman’s mental state.
    â€œAnd your hair is a mite dark for blond.”
    It was almost brown, but had golden highlights when it was clean and shining.
    â€œAnd your eyes ain’t quite blue.”
    They were gray, mostly, unless Allie wore her best gown, a light blue silk that had been lost in the fire.
    â€œBut you walk and talk like a lady, so you might get by Mr. Downs. You have to remember your brothers’ names are Jonathan and Alexander.”
    â€œI do not have any brothers.”
    Darla clucked her tongue in frustration.