closed since last
century. Im sorry its such a hodgepodge. But its only a farmhouse. I do hope
the marquiss family think it up to snuff, she said worriedly.
The marquis, Letty repeated. Now this was getting
interesting.
Eglantyne looked at her with dawning inspiration. Why, I
never thought to ask before. But how absurd of me! You probably know the
Sheffields, Eglantyne said eagerly.
Sheffields? Not bloody likely. She knew of them though,
everyone did. Only thing the family had more of than money was starch.
Starchier than wallpaper paste, they were. Too good for the likes of music
halls.
No, Im afraid Ive never had that honor, Letty murmured,
her thoughts racing as she glanced at Angela. The girls face had pinked over
becomingly and no wonder. The pretty little puss had won herself the Marquis of
Cotton. And she looked such a naive, unprepossessing little thing.
Well, well. Whod have thought? Letty eyed the pretty
puss with a new respect.
Im sure it will do, she said to Eglantyne.
Only a farmhouse? Letty thought. Though shed been raised in
one of Englands grandest manor houses, shed been a servants bastard,
tolerated only because of her mothers unparalleled skill with a needle. Shed
never been allowed to venture into those parts of the house where the
Fallontrues lived. Certainly shed never spent a night as a guest in anything
as grand as The Hollies. It was so large it could have contained the entire row
of attached houses where Letty had rented rooms.
Until Nick had burnt it down.
Hed be looking for her now. Searching. A few questions at the
right railroad station might lead him to her. And this time he might step over
the line and hurt someone in order to bring her to heel. Maybe even her.
For a while shed been so lost in the unexpected boon of being
mistaken for Lady Agatha, and then the gorgeous Sir Elliot, that shed
forgotten what had brought her here. Not a well-contrived confidence game, but
chance and necessity. By the time theyd circled the old-fashioned lime-lined
drive and drawn to a halt, her mood was sober.
We generally use the east door, Eglantyne explained. It
leads into the oldest part of the house and, well, to be honest, we rather like
the Great Hall. That must seem rather feudal and silly to you.
No, Letty said, automatically answering the anxiety in
Eglantynes voice. Not at all. In fact, feudal things are the latest craze in
London.
Craze? Eglantyne echoed.
Yes, craze. You know. Rage. Fad. Too-too and all that, Letty
explained.
Really? Angela piped in, wide-eyed.
Letty hesitated on the brink of recanting her claim. But the
women were regarding her so hopefully and it only took a simple fib to make
their day all the brighter, and besides, maybe feudal things were all
the rage in High Society. Stranger things had happened. Oh, most definitely.
Hard on the heels of last years vogue for gladiatorial
themes, no doubt, Sir Elliot said.
Lettys gaze shot up to meet Sir Elliots. One of his dark
brows was arched inscrutably. Apparently he was capable of more than rote
phrases.
And in such a voice. Gads, it wasnt fair that a man with such
looks should be given such a beautiful voice. If sound could caress, shed be
purring right now. It was that silky and low, but masculine. Decidedly
masculine.
With an unfathomable quirk of his lips, Sir Elliot descended
from the carriage and came round to the side. He even moved elegantly, Letty
thought. Not like a slumming lordling, all slouching indolence and loose-limbed
hauteur, but with precise military grace.
He must have been devastating in uniform.
He opened the carriage door and lifted out the steps.
Is it true, Lady Agatha? Eglantynewhom Letty was quickly
marking down as being nearly flawless in her credulitybreathed. I mean about
the gladiator thing?
Letty pondered. She didnt think so. Probably not. Besides,
how would Sir Elliot
Maggie Ryan, Blushing Books