The Byram Succession Read Online Free PDF Page A

should also draw your attention to the state of your gown. I fear-er-Aunt Maria might take exception to that, too.”
    The girl cast a startled glance at her soiled grey gown and gave a little exclamation of dismay. “Oh! Barbie! What shall I do?”
    Her companion examined the damage with grave concern. “You will have to change it, my love. Such a pity, for you have nothing else so smart. But not for the world would I have you present yourself in Berkeley Square in such a state. Perhaps the brown merino,” she went on doubtfully, “though skirts are worn longer now and trimmings are quite out—unless they are made of straw.” She stopped, recalling the presence of a stranger.
    The stranger was listening with unaffected interest. If these two innocents imagined that the grey gown was in any sense fashionable they were sadly mistaken. The mention of Berkeley Square intrigued him, scarcely adding substance to the girl’s claim of insignificance, but perhaps she was a poor relation whom ‘Aunt Maria’ planned to launch into society with a view to establishing her creditably. He began to feel a little sorry for the wench. She might be impertinent, quick-tempered and lacking in proper conduct, but she wasn’t a bad sort of girl and had shown up well in emergency.
    “And we are so late already,” she was saying. “If we stop at an inn for me to change my gown it will be quite dark before we reach Town. I daresay it will cost a good deal, too.”
    Damon glanced round the post-chaise. To his knowlegeable eye it was plainly a hired vehicle, reasonably clean and comfortable but quite devoid of such refinements as curtains. “If I may make a suggestion,” he said courteously, “my coach, with the curtains drawn, would make an adequate tiring room. The rain has stopped. If you care for the scheme, the coach is at your service and the change of costume could be effected while you wait.”
    Both ladies hesitated. It was a sensible suggestion and extremely kind of the gentleman. But the older lady felt that it savoured of impropriety and the younger one was oddly disinclined to accept a favour from one whom she had already designated in her own mind as ‘His Arrogance’. Their glances met—enquiry, doubt, pride, mingled. Never was such a transparent pair.
    He said smoothly, “Since the damage was done while Miss”—he tilted his head enquiringly.
    “Forester,” said the girl. “And this is my companion, Miss Hetherstone.” She had almost said governess. But that would be to assent to his placing of her in the schoolgirl category, and any way Barbie was Sue’s governess, had been this year past.
    “My name is Skirlaugh,” bowed his lordship. “If you had not come to my aid, Miss Forester, you would not have spoiled your dress. Nor would that unfortunate animal be in such good case. It would ease my conscience a good deal if you would accept this trivial service by way of amends.”
    The atmosphere definitely mellowed. Miss Hetherstone decided that he was most truly a gentleman. Miss Forester was softened by his tribute to her assistance. The exchange of vehicles was quickly effected while the rain obligingly held off. His lordship, keeping guard quite unnecessarily until the ladies emerged from the al fresco dressing room, decided that the brown merino, if not actually a disaster, put him strongly in mind of some ageing spinster engaged upon a mission of charity. Having expected nothing better he accepted it with fortitude, though his withers were, briefly, wrung for Aunt Maria.
    Politely he ascertained Miss Forester’s exact direction in Berkeley Square and asked if he might do himself the honour of calling upon Mrs. Newton to enquire how her niece did after the unexpected rigours of her journey.
    It was only when he had returned thankfully to the comfort and privacy of his own carriage that it occurred to him. These two chance-met females must have seen his disfiguring scars. Yet neither had displayed shock or