Read Online Maggie MacKeever by Bachelors Fare - Free Book Online

dress. Her eyes were big and brown, and her blonde curls were dressed in full ringlets on either side of her enchanting face.
    “It is a nacky bonnet, ain’t it?” she sighed anew. “Or maybe I should more properly call it a hat, or a capote, or a toque. For the life of me I can’t recollect the difference, not that I think it matters one whit!” She giggled, and looked guilty, and clapped her hands to her lips. “There I go, jawing on again, after my aunt said I must not. But a person gets deuced dreary talking to herself. Beg pardon if I’ve said something I shouldn’t, I’m sure! My name is Melly Bagshot, ma’am.”
    “And I am Lady Davenham,” responded Thea, smiling at the deplorable manners of this beguiling minx. “Madame le Best is your aunt?” It was only an idle query, but all Melly required to launch into a spirited explanation of her hotfoot departure from Brighton, complete with details concerning Captain and Lady Birmingham, pricked thumbs and missed parades and dinners in the regimental mess hall. “Gracious!” Thea said faintly, when Melly paused for breath.
    “Oh, I am sadly bird-witted,” confided that unrepentant damsel. “I only get out of one pickle to tumble into another, and Aunt Hel ain’t at all happy about it, I can promise! But that’s the way it is with me. There’s wild blood in the Bagshots.”
    “Bagshot?” echoed Lady Davenham, “Is your aunt’s name not le Best?”
    Melly grimaced. “Oh, it is! My aunt’s French! She lost all during the Revolution—or her family did. My family, that is! We have come down in the world, you see. You may trust my Aunt Hel to turn you out in prime style, ma’am. But bless my soul, here I am jawing on, just like I said I shouldn’t. Please don’t tell my aunt that I’ve been misbehaving, or she’ll never let me set foot out of this blasted shop!”
    Thea was enough of a Davenant to recognize a damsel prone to larks and frolic, and to understand how such a damsel must deplore being restrained. With no little sympathy, Thea glanced at Madame le Best. Melly cautiously followed suit. Her attention was immediately caught by the gentleman with whom Madame conversed. “Bless my heart!” she said.
    Lady Davenham could not help but be amused by the admiration on her companion’s elfin features; it was an expression she had glimpsed on numerous female faces of late. “The gentleman is my cousin, Sir Malcolm Calveley,” she explained. “He has recently returned to England after several years abroad.” Whether Malcolm had benefited from that sojourn, Thea was still not prepared to say.
    Lady Davenham’s cousin? Melly thought not. In her experience, gentlemen did not usually accompany their cousins to milliners’ shops. She eyed her companion with new respect. Then Melly looked once more at Sir Malcolm. There was a gentleman who would well understand a girl’s little weaknesses, she thought; it would have been the sunniest of all days had he fallen in her way. “It’s almost more than flesh and blood can stand!” she sighed.
    That sigh interfered greatly with Madame le Best’s concentration, interrupted in mid-speech her dissertation upon the relative advantages and disadvantages of Indian and Chinese and French gauze. No sooner did she pause than Sir Malcolm grasped the opportunity to beckon to his cousin. As he did so, he noticed the damsel seated next to her. As was his habit, he smiled.
    “Monsieur has described to me exactly the gown milady requires,” Madame le Best enthused, as Lady Davenham approached. “Monsieur exerts himself to bring milady into fashion. Milady is very fortunate to have a—ah!—cousin so sympathique— and very wise to allow him to guide her in setting herself up in the latest mode.”
    “The latest mode?” echoed Thea, doubtfully. “I don’t think—”                                   
    “Do you not trust me, my Thea?” inquired Sir Malcolm, withdrawing