Read Online Lucy Muir by The Imprudent Wager - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: The Imprudent Wager
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woman beside him, a fair beauty whose hair was so pale as to appear silver.
“That is Lady Parnell. Really, Miss Southwell, you should not show so much interest in the premier rake of the realm,” he teased.
“Indeed not, Miss Southwell,” interrupted Lady Conliffe from the phaeton beside them. “It would be thought unbecomingly fast, even in one of your years.”
Anne smiled at Lady Conliffe’s gibe, but did not allow herself to retaliate.
“Thank you, Lady Conliffe. I will try to keep your warning in mind,” she replied, turning her attention away from the glossy black curricle, at least outwardly. Inwardly, however, Anne found herself consumed with curiosity about Lord Stanton’s ravishing companion, as well as strangely hurt. She scolded herself. After all, Lord Stanton had made it very clear that it was for their benefit he would not acknowledge them in London. But the joy had gone out of the day for Anne, and she was relieved when they completed their turn about the Park to return home.
* * * *
The next day, Anne remained at home while Melissa went for her drive with Viscount Woolbridge. The viscount had gravely assured Anne of his driving abilities while he was waiting for Melissa to appear, and promised to return her safely. Anne just as gravely assured him of her confidence in his skill, thinking what a handsome appearance he made in his blue coat, buff vest and buckskins. The viscount appeared no less impressed by the appearance of Melissa when she came into the room clad in a chemise-dress of dotted muslin trimmed with lace and tied under her breasts with a red ribbon. A gypsy hat with a white veil sat rakishly on her curls, and a white sarcenet scarf was draped gracefully about her shoulders. The viscount gazed at Melissa adoringly a full half minute before he was able to bid her good-afternoon.
Anne stood in the window as the two departed, watching the viscount hand Melissa carefully into his curricle. She turned to Sanders, who sat quietly working on a muslin morning gown for Melissa.
“Melissa and the viscount make a handsome couple, do they not?”
“I still say you should have gone with them for propriety’s sake,” Sanders replied with some asperity.
“Perhaps I should have,” agreed Anne, “but his interest in Melissa seems quite respectable. He treats her like a piece of delicate porcelain. And Melissa appears to return his regard.”
Sanders stopped sewing and looked at Anne more kindly.
“I think Melissa is enjoying her first Season too much to make any decisions as to marriage. The Season has just begun. She may meet other gentlemen yet. But you have done very well for Melissa, so far,” she acknowledged.
“Not I, but Mrs. Halcott,” Anne said fairly. “I know I should not be making plans so soon, but I do so wish Melissa to make a good match. I cannot afford a second Season,” she added, thinking, nor will I be a proper person to chaperone her if she does not make a match this Season.
Sanders looked at Anne with some concern. “I hope you are not jeopardizing your own income to present Melissa this Season. There is no need. A girl of Melissa’s beauty and breeding will make a good match despite her lack of money.”
Anne wondered uncomfortably if Sanders suspected something from the day at the bank. She wished she had not begun the conversation, or that Sanders were not quite so familiar in her speech. Somehow Sanders always made Anne very aware of her shortcomings as a chaperone.
“No, I have not endangered my income,” she replied rather shortly, and left the room with the excuse of conferring with the cook about the week’s menus. Sanders looked after her thoughtfully, convinced something was worrying Anne, and hoping it was nothing serious.
* * * *
Friday, Anne and Melissa dressed for the opera with great care, aware that they would be on view to much of the haut ton, which they would have few opportunities to meet elsewhere. Anne chose a trained evening
“That is Lady Parnell. Really, Miss Southwell, you should not show so much interest in the premier rake of the realm,” he teased.
“Indeed not, Miss Southwell,” interrupted Lady Conliffe from the phaeton beside them. “It would be thought unbecomingly fast, even in one of your years.”
Anne smiled at Lady Conliffe’s gibe, but did not allow herself to retaliate.
“Thank you, Lady Conliffe. I will try to keep your warning in mind,” she replied, turning her attention away from the glossy black curricle, at least outwardly. Inwardly, however, Anne found herself consumed with curiosity about Lord Stanton’s ravishing companion, as well as strangely hurt. She scolded herself. After all, Lord Stanton had made it very clear that it was for their benefit he would not acknowledge them in London. But the joy had gone out of the day for Anne, and she was relieved when they completed their turn about the Park to return home.
* * * *
The next day, Anne remained at home while Melissa went for her drive with Viscount Woolbridge. The viscount had gravely assured Anne of his driving abilities while he was waiting for Melissa to appear, and promised to return her safely. Anne just as gravely assured him of her confidence in his skill, thinking what a handsome appearance he made in his blue coat, buff vest and buckskins. The viscount appeared no less impressed by the appearance of Melissa when she came into the room clad in a chemise-dress of dotted muslin trimmed with lace and tied under her breasts with a red ribbon. A gypsy hat with a white veil sat rakishly on her curls, and a white sarcenet scarf was draped gracefully about her shoulders. The viscount gazed at Melissa adoringly a full half minute before he was able to bid her good-afternoon.
Anne stood in the window as the two departed, watching the viscount hand Melissa carefully into his curricle. She turned to Sanders, who sat quietly working on a muslin morning gown for Melissa.
“Melissa and the viscount make a handsome couple, do they not?”
“I still say you should have gone with them for propriety’s sake,” Sanders replied with some asperity.
“Perhaps I should have,” agreed Anne, “but his interest in Melissa seems quite respectable. He treats her like a piece of delicate porcelain. And Melissa appears to return his regard.”
Sanders stopped sewing and looked at Anne more kindly.
“I think Melissa is enjoying her first Season too much to make any decisions as to marriage. The Season has just begun. She may meet other gentlemen yet. But you have done very well for Melissa, so far,” she acknowledged.
“Not I, but Mrs. Halcott,” Anne said fairly. “I know I should not be making plans so soon, but I do so wish Melissa to make a good match. I cannot afford a second Season,” she added, thinking, nor will I be a proper person to chaperone her if she does not make a match this Season.
Sanders looked at Anne with some concern. “I hope you are not jeopardizing your own income to present Melissa this Season. There is no need. A girl of Melissa’s beauty and breeding will make a good match despite her lack of money.”
Anne wondered uncomfortably if Sanders suspected something from the day at the bank. She wished she had not begun the conversation, or that Sanders were not quite so familiar in her speech. Somehow Sanders always made Anne very aware of her shortcomings as a chaperone.
“No, I have not endangered my income,” she replied rather shortly, and left the room with the excuse of conferring with the cook about the week’s menus. Sanders looked after her thoughtfully, convinced something was worrying Anne, and hoping it was nothing serious.
* * * *
Friday, Anne and Melissa dressed for the opera with great care, aware that they would be on view to much of the haut ton, which they would have few opportunities to meet elsewhere. Anne chose a trained evening
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