The Ring on Her Finger Read Online Free PDF Page A

strength in the other woman’s grip. Obviously she wasn’t as fragile as she looked.
    “It’s nice to meet you, Lucy French,” Rosemary said, smiling. “Welcome to Harborcourt.”
    “Harborcourt?” Lucy repeated, confused. She could have sworn Phoebe said this place was called Glenview.
    Rosemary tilted her head back toward the imposing mansion behind her. “Harborcourt is what Mr. and Mrs. Cove named their house when they bought it two years ago. A play on their name, I suppose. They quite fell in love with the place. Pity they don’t show the same affection for their only child that they show for their property.” Obviously realizing she shouldn’t have added that last sentiment—at least not until she and Lucy knew each other well enough to bitch and moan about their employers—she quickly amended, “But that’s not my place to say, is it? Abby’s a trifle challenging at times, but she’s a sweet child. The Coves are just a bit confused when it comes to their priorities. But in my experience, that’s always been the case for people who have more dollars than sense.”
    Lucy bit her lip to prevent her response. It would probably be best just to agree with Rosemary, even if, in her own experience, economic privilege didn’t necessarily equal a lack of good sense—that moron Archie notwithstanding. Lucy French, housekeeper, would doubtless agree with Rosemary. They were, after all, both working-class.
    So Lucy only said, “Is Mrs. Cove here? I’m supposed to meet with her this morning.”
    Rosemary shook her head. “I’m the only one at home right now. Well, me and Max. He takes care of the cars and does a bit of driving for the Coves now and then. Abby started back to school a week ago, and Mr. Cove is at work. Mrs. Cove will be back shortly.” In a tone as wry as before, she added, “She had a terribly, terribly important meeting this morning with her manicurist. I’ll show you ’round and get you settled. Mrs. Cove can go over your duties when she returns.”
    Without being asked, Rosemary picked up the suitcase Lucy had placed on the ground and began to make her way back up the drive. Lucy hurried her step to keep up. The nearer she drew to the house, however, the more her pace slowed. It was a massive place, actually much larger than the house where she had grown up, four stories high, with numerous chimneys and dozens of mullioned windows that cast back the sunlight as if they were made of crushed diamonds. The grounds, too, sparkled like gems, embellishing the front and sides of the house with vast, variegated landscaping.
    Only the very, very rich lived in such houses. Lucy couldn’t help but feel intimidated by the place, even with her own socially advanced upbringing. The Coves obviously claimed at least three more zeroes on the bottom line of their personal wealth than the Hollanders did. And billionaires, ironically, tended to be even more possessive of their wealth than run-of-the-millionaires did. Nobody touched their bottom lines. Nobody touched them.
    What must it feel like for someone like Rosemary to live in a place like this? Lucy wondered. Or for someone like Lucy French? If Lucinda Hollander was anxious about entering the house, Lucy French would be terrified.
    “It’s not as scary as it looks,” Rosemary said from a few steps ahead, evidently reading Lucy’s mind. Again. “I thought the same thing when I first saw the place. Halfway expected to hear some ghostly Heathcliff calling for Cathy the first few nights I was here. After a while, you get used to it. Even if you never quite feel comfortable.”
    They had arrived at a point in front of the house where the cobbled drive divided to circle a fountain depicting a trio of frolicking dolphins. But Rosemary strode past the front door without a glance. “Servants’ entrance is in the rear,” she said. “Which is more convenient for us, anyway, because that’s nearer where your quarters are. In the carriage house out