The Lie and the Lady Read Online Free PDF

minute off schedule?”
    â€œWell, a few of the drapes are in desperate need of mending.”
    â€œJameson . . .”
    The dignified older man sighed. “No, sir.”
    â€œThen hush, Jameson. Think of what sort of impression you are making on my bride-to-be.” The blood drained from Jameson’s face as his eyes shot to Leticia. Leticia did her best to smile graciously, but the awkwardness of the announcement put her immediately at a disadvantage. Really, did not Sir Barty know that these first few moments in the household were crucial for establishing one’s first impression? Everyone here likely thought her some interloping strumpet—not the regal soon-to-be mistress of the house they would know her to be had he written a simple letter!
    The shock of the announcement had given way to titters and whispers. Leticia leaned in to Barty. “Perhaps introductions are in order, darling?” she breathed in his ear.
    â€œOh? Oh! Of course!” he said, taking the nudge for what it was worth. “Jameson, Mrs. Dillon”—he nodded toward the straight-faced woman whose competence bespoke her as the housekeeper—“I should like to introduce you to my dear Leticia, Countess of Churzy, and soon to be Lady Babcock.”
    At least Sir Barty had given her a proper introduction. She felt herself growing taller with each word of her title—and then future title—being spoken.
    â€œIt is the greatest pleasure to meet you all,” Leticia said, modulating her tones, at once demure and commanding.
    A particular gift of hers, putting people at ease with only her voice. It paid to have practiced restraint. When spoken, restraint sounded like grace.
    â€œOh, thank heavens, you’re English!” the competent Mrs. Dillon cried, and came forward with a bobbing curtsey. “For a moment there I was afraid Sir Barty had brought home a foreign bride, and we would have to deal with French maids and cooks and the like.”
    Leticia smiled, amused. “I have lived in France, but I have little use for French hairdressers or their cuisine,” she lied. “Give me good, honest English fare any day.”
    â€œShe tried her first haslet on the way up here!” Sir Barty said as he squeezed her shoulder. “Loved it, didn’t you, m’dear?”
    To that, Leticia could only smile through her teeth.
    â€œThen I shall have cook put it on the menu for this week,” Mrs. Dillon replied. “Oh, but—I expect you’ll be wanting to go over the menus, my lady? I’m sorry, it’s been a bit since we’ve had—”
    â€œI would love to go over the menus with you, Mrs. Dillon, but I do not wish to step on any toes. After all, we are not yet wed,” she demurred.
    â€œThat’ll change in a month’s time,” Sir Barty said proudly.
    â€œI think for now I would like nothing more than to change my clothes and then meet Margaret. Is she in the schoolroom?”
    Everyone blinked for a moment and a few glances slid toward Sir Barty. Odd. And yet no one said a word.
    â€œEr, no. Not the schoolroom, my lady,” Mrs. Dillon replied, with a perplexed glance to Sir Barty. “She’s outside, I believe.”
    â€œAh yes,” Leticia smiled, trying to put everyone at ease. “Sir Barty told me she would likely be digging in the dirt, didn’t you, dearest?”
    â€œShe’ll make her way in before supper,” Sir Barty said, throwing an arm over Leticia’s shoulder and giving her a rough squeeze. “Well, Jameson—shall we go to the library? I need to put my foot up and write a letter to my steward, informing him of my arrival. And in time for the harvest too!”
    As Sir Barty ambled down the hall, Jameson trailing after him in attendance, Leticia turned to Mrs. Dillon.
    â€œMy lady, I would offer to show you to your rooms, however—”
    â€œBut no rooms were made up for