Read Online A Secret Passion by Sophia Nash - Free Book Online Page A

headache.
     

     
    “Jane, dear, you must stop writing and prepare for tea at Hesperides,” Clarissa called from the hall.
    Jane obeyed her aunt by arranging the stack of writing papers, wiping her quill, and closing the drawers of the small escritoire. She looked at her ink-stained hands and sighed.
    Clarissa bustled into the guest chamber holding up the pressed black silk gown. A quarter of an hour later found Jane dressed and unsmiling as her aunt brushed her hair and swept it back into a knot high above her neck. Jane took her aunt’s place and smoothed back Clarissa’s brown tresses tinged with gray.
    “A fine pair of guests we will be. Without conversation, and schooling our features, if my guess is correct,” Jane said.
    “But I do like the grandmother. She seemed taken with you at the picnic,” said Clarissa as she hid her long hair in the confines of a lace cap. Jane picked a piece of lint from the dull brown-colored gown Clarissa almost always wore.
    “When one’s only competition is Mrs. Gurcher for friendship, I am not sure it is a fair game,” retorted Jane.
    “Yes, well, I have never been invited to tea at Hesperides until now. I am sure you are the reason,” Clarissa said as she moved through the passageway toward the door of the cottage.
    Jane changed the conversation as she adjusted the tilt of her black silk bonnet. “It is only a tea. They cannot hold us longer than the appointed hour.”
     

     
    Thomas was at war within his own mind. Propriety and good sense told him he must attend his host’s modest entertainment of tea this afternoon. Anger and pride insisted that he be anywhere but in the conservatory overlooking the tiered gardens of Hesperides at four o’clock. The meager hunting party consisting of the earl, the gamekeeper, and himself had proved unfruitful. And he was not in a mood to attempt to lighten the earl’s typical brooding frame of mind. He gave thanks for the hundredth time that hunting was a silent venture by necessity.
    As they walked up to the large oak doors of the Hall, Thomas reviewed all his proposed excuses for not attending the ladies at tea. A glance at the earl’s harsh, squinting profile above the deep gray collar of his long hunting coat resolved him to his purpose. As he opened his mouth to make his excuses, Graystock interrupted him.
    “You’re not considering retreat, are you?” The earl accepted the bows of the footmen and continued, “You are my friend and guest. And as such, you must endeavor to entertain me.”
    “That’s what the chits will do, Graystock.”
    The earl preceded Thomas into the conservatory and added under his breath, “Ah. But you will outdo them if recent history is any indication.” The ladies all rose upon the gentlemen’s entrance, save the dowager countess. The earl moved to his grandmother, whose large frame was ensconced in a deceptively delicate love seat. He raised her hand to his lips. Rolfe bowed to the other two ladies as Thomas moved forward to pay his respects to at least two of the ladies.
    The party of five somehow managed to offer a contorted view of refined society for the first half of the visit. The usual topics of weather and the small upcoming and past country entertainments were discussed at length, with nary a blush or a frown. If one looked closely, thought Thomas, one might have noticed he and Miss Fairchild did not direct questions to one another. Graystock did not follow suit with Mrs. Lovering. It was clear the earl enjoyed provoking her in a very mild way.
    Lady Graystock sighed loudly, drawing everyone’s attention.
    “Whatever is it, Grandmamma?” asked the earl.
    “I daresay I have overexerted myself today. I think I must be escorted to my chamber. But I would dearly like to continue the pleasure of our guests’ company.” She paused to look at Jane. “My dear, would you be so kind as to do me the honor of reading to me again? Your voice is exquisite, and I long to hear the next