Read Online Lady in Green by Bárbara Metzger - Free Book Online Page A

not one with a roving eye.”
    “Yes’m,” the little maid replied doubtfully, ready to agree with her new benefactress. She’d never had so much money to bring her mum at once, with the promise of a new dress and some pretty ribbons for her hair, and good smells coming from the kitchen. If this lady wanted his lordship to be Old Nick himself, Lorna would help look for his horns and tail next time he came.
    Lorna had no doubts whatsoever that the housekeeper was a lady, a real lady, no matter what rig she was running. Lorna had watched the sickly looking miss who called for Miss Ros turn into the hideous Mrs. Lee, even helping tear up one of the lady’s fine petticoats to making a binding for her chest and a hump for her shoulder with the rest of the muslin. She’d gazed in wonder as the cook mixed up a batch of flour and stuff to make a yellowish powder for her skin and then added a little sugar and water to affix the mole. Whatever hugger-mugger was going on, this was better than the Punch and Judy show at the ice fair. And Lorna was getting paid for being in it! She danced along at Mrs. Lee’s side.
    “Get ready for his friends, he said,” Annalise was muttering. “I’ll get ready, all right.”
    “Ma’am?”
    “I don’t care what Rob says, I refuse to live in a bawdy house! I’ll show that bounder the error of his ways, or die trying!”
    “Oh, ma’am, you can’t be thinking of worriting his lordship. He’ll up and leave!”
    “Exactly. If I discourage him enough, he’ll get out. We’ll find proper renters next time, a family or a pair of retired schoolteachers or something.”
    “You’ll get us fired!” Lorna wailed.
    “No, I won’t be so obvious.”
    She did not buy him a hairshirt instead of a dressing gown, for instance; she just bought him a robe at least two sizes bigger than she estimated he needed, and slippers two sizes smaller. She did not purchase dowdy flannel nightgowns for his lightskirts, just lacy ones with about a million tiny buttons. And robes with ostrich boas whose feathers got inhaled up your nose if you wore them. And the heaviest, most cloying perfumes she could find. She bought tooth powder that tasted like garlic, a hand mirror whose slight distortion just happened to add a few pounds to the reflection, a lovely bedside carafe that was sure to drip, and exquisite blown wineglasses that were so fragile, they were bound to break at the first use.
    No, she wasn’t obvious, but the dastard wasn’t going to find Laurel Street any bed of roses, either.
    There was no way on earth Annalise Avery was going to let another despicable man and his lascivious ways ruin her life.

Chapter Eight
    Wednesday night. Almack’s. The wages of sin. Gads, he’d promised the dowager he’d escort her a few places, not lay down his life for one minor indiscretion. Yet here he was, martyr to a mother’s pique, clad in knee breeches, with his neckcloth starched so stiff and tied so high he’d have a rash under his chin by morning.
    If this was the Marriage Mart, he’d do his shopping elsewhere—when the time came, of course. He doubted he’d ever be on the lookout for a silly female who giggled and batted her eyelashes like the one in his arms right now. The chit’s only conversation consisted of her clothes. Hell, the widgeon would be a damned sight more attractive without all the ruffles and ribbons. Without any clothes at all, in fact. Firm, high breasts, soft skin… my lord Gardiner entertained himself throughout the remainder of the Sir Roger de Coverley picturing his mother’s best friend’s goddaughter naked.
    Lady Jersey babbled in his ear during the waltz, trying to get up a flirtation. She was a little ripe for his tastes, but then he envisioned himself swimming, sinking, lost in pillows of warm flesh. No bony hips, either.
    Miss Kelsall romped energetically through the country dance beside him, but he saw only her enticing derriere jouncing, bouncing, joyously bare.
    The