Read Online Sir Philip's Folly (The Poor Relation Series Book 4) by M. C. Beaton - Free Book Online Page A

Fortescue was declaiming in a measured voice, “as we have no intention of selling up, you will be only entitled to your cut of the profits, profits from which your lady’s food and clothes and rent have been deducted. You are an extravagant man, Sir Philip, and so I do not think you would be able to exist very comfortably in a separate establishment.”
    “A pox on’t,” muttered Sir Philip. “What’s this girl doing here again? Is she to be party to all our discussions?”
    “Miss Carruthers is a friend,” snapped the colonel. “Mind your manners, sir!”
    Sir Philip’s gaze focused on Miss Tonks’ capless, shining head. “What have you been doing to yourself?” he growled.
    The colonel took Miss Tonks’ hand and bent and kissed it. “You look most charmingly.”
    “I must say,” remarked Lady Fortescue, “that André has done wonders. How very young you look, Miss Tonks!”
    “Pah!” said Sir Philip Sommerville, and went out and crashed the door behind him.
    “He does not like you looking pretty,” Arabella whispered to Miss Tonks. “I wonder why?”
    And Miss Tonks, who had been on the point of crying, suddenly felt very happy indeed. No one in her whole miserable life had called her pretty before.
    Lady Fortescue, who had overheard the aside, reflected that no one could ever call Miss Tonks pretty, and yet the new hair-style made her look undoubtedly interesting and mundane.
    ***
    “Did many gentlemen dance with you last night, Mama?” asked Arabella. For to her dismay, early the next afternoon, her mother showed every sign of preparing to go out on calls.
    “Oh, so many I have lost count,” said Lady Carruthers.
    “In that case, would it not be better to await calls rather than going out?”
    “Oh, there was no one of interest, no one worth waiting for.”
    “Was Lord Denby there?”
    “Denby? Denby?” Lady Carruthers affected a yawn and tried to look as if she were hard put to remember the name of the only man who had danced with her. “Oh, yes, the fellow who is staying here. Yes, he danced with me. Terrible flirt.”
    The footman came into the sitting-room. “The Earl of Denby is called, my lady,” he announced.
    “Show him in,” said Arabella quickly before her mother could order her from the room.
    The earl, reflected Arabella, although her heart gave a painful lurch, was surely as good an actor as Mr. Davy. He came in and bowed low to Lady Carruthers. Then he turned and affected to see Arabella for the first time and gave a little start.
    “I pray you,” he said to Lady Carruthers, “please introduce me to this beauty.”
    Lady Carruthers looked wildly about the room as if expecting to see someone else there. “Arabella?” she asked faintly. She rallied with an obvious effort. “My daughter, my lord. Arabella, make your curtsy to his lordship and then I am sure you will be glad to get back to your books.”
    But the earl had taken Arabella’s hand and was smiling down into her eyes. “You must not waste your beautiful eyes over books, Miss Carruthers.” He turned back to Lady Carruthers. “May I persuade both of you to come for a drive with me?”
    “I shall be glad to go,” said Lady Carruthers. “But my child is…”
    She saw the slight stiffening of Lord Denby’s face and realized with a shock that he might, just might, change his mind if Arabella were not to be of the party.
    “Arabella, change into your carriage dress, my chuck, while I entertain Lord Denby.”
    When Arabella had gone into her bedroom, Lady Carruthers said, “Such a dear child.”
    “Not a child, my lady, despite her juvenile gowns. I would have estimated her to be about nineteen years.”
    Lady Carruthers coloured under her paint but said nothing.
    “Have you brought her out yet?”
    “No, my lord, this is not the Season.”
    “And yet, with such beauty, you would have the men flocking around her—were she suitably gowned, of course. And she is trifle old to be still wearing her hair