The Lie and the Lady Read Online Free PDF Page B

me, as you were not told of my existence,” she finished for the nervous housekeeper. “It’s quite all right. I am happy to look around the house for now.”
    â€œI’ll have tea and a cold repast brought to the sitting room as quickly as possible,” Mrs. Dillon replied.
    â€œDo, but do not press yourself overly. I am happy to wait.”
    Mrs. Dillon eyed the maids that were standing in a line behind her, itching to give orders.
    â€œMight I suggest a stroll in the gardens? It would do you good after all that time in the carriage.”
    â€œOh, but I—”
    â€œWe will present ourselves to much better advantage in a few minutes,” Mrs. Dillon said quietly, and the maids that could hear her nodded in time.
    Leticia knew that it would be good form to do as Mrs. Dillon requested. And early favors would do wonders for their relationship later on.
    But she dreaded the gardens.
    â€œJust a few minutes, Mrs. Dillon,” she said firmly. “Then you and I can have a nice long chat about the dinner menus and drapes that need mending and everything else.”
    â€œYes, my lady,” Mrs. Dillon finally said, and with a curtsy, moved at a trot to the kitchens.
    Leaving Leticia free to wander outside.
    Bluestone Manor was a lovely property. It was well situated, the oaks that edged the lane grown tall and thick with time, speaking to the fact that the Babcocks had been in this county for quite a long time. The house itself was a square box, three stories tall, with the entrance recessed slightly, drawing one in. As she wandered around the building, she discovered that only the front of the house was faced in that blue granite that gave it its name. The rest of the building was brick, stuccoed over in a warm yellow. As she went around the side, a terrace and glass paneled doors connected to a drawing room—one that Mrs. Dillon was madly putting to rights, setting a tea service in the exact right place. Good. She’d made the correct impression on the woman—showing her that she had some give, but was firm and worthy of being impressed.
    She’d give her a few more minutes. Let her make everything perfect.
    It had better be worth it, because she could feel the sting beginning in her nose, the thickness in her ears. One of the many reasons Leticia preferred the city was that flowers made her sneeze.
    And the east garden was stuffed full of them.
    It would be one thing if they were delicate, ladylike sneezes. But her sensitivity to flowers usually left her sneezing raw and angry, generally accompanied by a red swollen nose and eyes so puffed it could become difficult to see.
    Perhaps the west garden would be better, she thought, hoping for nonflowering shrubbery, as she moved briskly to the other side of the house.
    She wondered where Margaret might be hiding. In all honesty, she was anxious for them to be introduced—it might be a little startling to the poor girl to meet over supper. (And if Leticia had any curiosity about a young girl dining with the adults, it was immediately squashed—obviously, if it was only Sir Barty and Margaret here, they must be accustomed to dining en famille. It spoke a great deal about Sir Barty’s affection for his daughter and his enthusiasm for adding Leticia to the family.)
    She looked around her, but there was no sign of a little girl anywhere. Although there were signs of an incredibly skilled gardener. The hedges were trimmed into perfect cones or rounds, and all lined with violets. The orchard she spied in the distance seemed to be in full fruit. They must have a whole team of experienced men to deal with the variety of plants and flowers she saw in just that one corner of the grounds.
    That seemed to be an expense Sir Barty was willing to bear, and Leticia was glad of it.
    Oh, not the gardens themselves (her eyes watered just looking at them), but that he was willing to spend the money in the first place—no doubt as