Read Online The Birth of Blue Satan by Patricia Wynn - Free Book Online Page A

think, you say?”
    She struggled with the answer as she stood rooted to the floor. Isabella glanced back over her shoulder, but she was much too sleepy, and too used to that calculating expression on her mother’s face, to protest, even though Mrs. Mayfield’s fingers dug deeply into her arm.
    “He will think, ma’am, that Isabella is not loyal,” Hester said.
    “Hmmm.” Mrs. Mayfield drew her daughter back into the withdrawing room and closed the door. “You are quite right, Hester. I knew you was a smart girl.”
    This was not the precise result Hester had wished for. Still, she knew Mrs. Mayfield would take everything her own way.
    “Let me think on this.”
    “Mama—”
    Isabella’s sleepy plea was abruptly cut off. “Hush, child! This is much too important.”
    Since Mrs. Mayfield, for all her harshness, rarely spoke to her beloved daughter in any way other than a croon, Isabella’s eyes grew round.
    “What it is, Mama? Why are you so upset?”
    Her mother ignored her. Hester took her cousin by the arm and led her to a damask-covered loveseat. “Why don’t you sit with me, dear, until your mother’s had time to give the problem a little thought. Perhaps you will tell me about your partners this evening.”
    As sleepy as she was, Isabella summoned a delighted laugh as she collapsed on the cushions. “They were all vastly pleasing. Did you ever see the likes of his Grace’s coat? I vow that silver stitching must have cost him a fortune!”
    Thinking she heard a distinctive note of pleasure in her cousin’s voice, Hester’s heart sank. “Are you in love with his Grace, then, Belle?”
    “Oh, no!” Isabella seemed shocked. “I would never dream of such a thing. It is vulgar to talk about love, Mama says.”
    Hester took a deep, bracing breath to tame her impatience. “It is quite all right to love one’s husband in my opinion. Nevertheless, if the term offends you, we can employ another. Do you favour the Duke of Bournemouth’s suit over the other gentlemen’s?”
    “Well, I must, mustn’t I? He’s a duke, and Sir Harrowby is nothing but a baronet.”
    “But my Lord St. Mars? Have you no feelings for him?”
    “He is very handsome. All the gossips say so.”
    “But what do you think, Belle? Whom do you wish to marry?”
    “Hester, that is enough!” Mrs. Mayfield emerged from her musings to scold her niece. “I will not have you encouraging Isabella with your ill-bred notions. As if a girl of her class should choose her own husband!”
    “I might like to pick my husband, Mama. If Sir Harrowby Fitzsimmons were a duke, I think I should like to marry him. He is always so diverting, and he dresses better than many richer men.”
    Stunned by her cousin’s preference, Hester could only await the sound of her aunt’s displeasure.
    Surprisingly, Mrs. Mayfield made little protest. “He cannot be a duke, my dear . . . but he might become an earl. And if he does, I should do nothing to stop you from having him. Not unless his Grace comes up to scratch.” This was said with a sigh that suggested forlorn hopes.
    “How can Sir Harrowby be an earl, Mama, when Lord St. Mars stands before him?”
    “Never you mind.” Mrs. Mayfield stood. “It is getting very late. It must be on three o’clock and seeing we’ve left the ball early, we might as well seek our beds.”
    With a smothered yawn, Isabella rose from the loveseat. “Are you coming, Hester? I need someone to brush my hair, and I like the way you do it better than my maid.”
    Despite the thoughtlessness of her cousin’s request, Hester seized on the chance to speak to Isabella privately. “Of course, I’ll come,” she said. She would not be able to sleep soon in any case. Agitation would keep her awake.
    Together they walked from the withdrawing room and up the stairs. Isabella’s bedchamber occupied the second floor, alongside her mother’s. Hester’s was another flight up, near the servants’ .
    The differences between their