Read Online The Countess' Lucky Charm by A. M. Westerling - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: A. M. Westerling
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but freedom in comparison to a lady of quality. Before, short of running foul of the law, she had no one to answer to. She could come and go as she pleased, say what she pleased, behave as she pleased. No one expected anything of her.
Now, her entire day was planned, all because of a silly wager. At first, it had been easy enough but now Temple told her how to eat, how to talk, how to walk, with nary a minute to herself.
How she had once envied the ladies as they visited the shops, so perfect, so carefree, while she stood cold, dirty and shivering in the street.
However, ladies of quality paid a price. For all intents and purposes, they lived in a prison. Not a prison of bars and stone but an invisible prison imposed on them by the society in which they lived.
Sighing, she pulled out from beneath her dress the gold medallion hanging about her neck. It usually lay hidden beneath the floor boards beside her cot in the workhouse but she had been wearing it the day she met Temple. She rubbed her thumb over it, taking comfort in the familiar grooves that formed the image of a crest.
She wanted Temple to be proud of her, to repay the faith he had in her. If it meant more rules, then so be it.
The wager had not been made by her, but she would honour it.
* * *
Simone cheered up at dinner. Temple had not noticed her new dress but Gordon Dixon, the young clerk, couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Only it wasn’t Mr Dixon’s admiring eyes she wanted, but Temple’s.
Truthfully, she wanted Temple to find her attractive, to see her as a woman and not an obligation. Impossible, of course, considering the difference in their stations but that thought crept in her mind every now and then to tease her with its ridiculousness.
She turned her attention back to the young man. “You may seat me,” she murmured.
“Of course,” he stammered, beet red. He held out his elbow and Simone lightly placed her hand on it. “Lady Wellington, you look particularly lovely this evening,”
“Why, thank you, Mr Dixon.” She replied slowly, carefully forming her words as Temple had taught her. She batted her eyelashes and almost laughed out loud at the result it had on the poor fellow. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead and he almost fell over in his attempt to pull out the chair for her.
Really, this was too easy. The young man had turned to putty in her hands. She pretended not to notice the scowl on Temple’s face as she smiled at the clerk, enjoying the influence she had over the smitten fellow.
How lovely to have the clerk’s attention and so delicious for her ego. For once, she looked forward to the evening.
* * *
“Your display at dinner appalled me,” Temple snarled as he shut the cabin door before turning around to face her. “A married lady of quality never carries on in such a blatant manner.”
She looked at him, amazed. He had ignored her all evening, so why this reaction?
Realization cascaded through her.
“Why, you are jealous,” she said in her very best lady of quality of voice.
“I am not,” he growled back at her.
“Oh, but you are.” She clapped her hands in delight.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He pushed past her to stand in front of the porthole. He stared out into the blackness for a moment before turning around, displeasure evident in the set of his face. “It’s disappointing to spend time in your instruction only to see you disregard everything you have been taught the minute some bleeder looks your way.”
Anger spurted through her at his hurtful words. Just this afternoon, he had wanted to chaperone her for her protection and now he verbally attacked her over her behaviour at dinner?
“What do ye mean, disregard everything.” She glared at him, hands on her hips. “I let a gentleman seat me. I didn’t slurp. I used me knife and fork properly. I watched me diction.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it,” he interrupted. “You practically
Now, her entire day was planned, all because of a silly wager. At first, it had been easy enough but now Temple told her how to eat, how to talk, how to walk, with nary a minute to herself.
How she had once envied the ladies as they visited the shops, so perfect, so carefree, while she stood cold, dirty and shivering in the street.
However, ladies of quality paid a price. For all intents and purposes, they lived in a prison. Not a prison of bars and stone but an invisible prison imposed on them by the society in which they lived.
Sighing, she pulled out from beneath her dress the gold medallion hanging about her neck. It usually lay hidden beneath the floor boards beside her cot in the workhouse but she had been wearing it the day she met Temple. She rubbed her thumb over it, taking comfort in the familiar grooves that formed the image of a crest.
She wanted Temple to be proud of her, to repay the faith he had in her. If it meant more rules, then so be it.
The wager had not been made by her, but she would honour it.
* * *
Simone cheered up at dinner. Temple had not noticed her new dress but Gordon Dixon, the young clerk, couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Only it wasn’t Mr Dixon’s admiring eyes she wanted, but Temple’s.
Truthfully, she wanted Temple to find her attractive, to see her as a woman and not an obligation. Impossible, of course, considering the difference in their stations but that thought crept in her mind every now and then to tease her with its ridiculousness.
She turned her attention back to the young man. “You may seat me,” she murmured.
“Of course,” he stammered, beet red. He held out his elbow and Simone lightly placed her hand on it. “Lady Wellington, you look particularly lovely this evening,”
“Why, thank you, Mr Dixon.” She replied slowly, carefully forming her words as Temple had taught her. She batted her eyelashes and almost laughed out loud at the result it had on the poor fellow. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead and he almost fell over in his attempt to pull out the chair for her.
Really, this was too easy. The young man had turned to putty in her hands. She pretended not to notice the scowl on Temple’s face as she smiled at the clerk, enjoying the influence she had over the smitten fellow.
How lovely to have the clerk’s attention and so delicious for her ego. For once, she looked forward to the evening.
* * *
“Your display at dinner appalled me,” Temple snarled as he shut the cabin door before turning around to face her. “A married lady of quality never carries on in such a blatant manner.”
She looked at him, amazed. He had ignored her all evening, so why this reaction?
Realization cascaded through her.
“Why, you are jealous,” she said in her very best lady of quality of voice.
“I am not,” he growled back at her.
“Oh, but you are.” She clapped her hands in delight.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He pushed past her to stand in front of the porthole. He stared out into the blackness for a moment before turning around, displeasure evident in the set of his face. “It’s disappointing to spend time in your instruction only to see you disregard everything you have been taught the minute some bleeder looks your way.”
Anger spurted through her at his hurtful words. Just this afternoon, he had wanted to chaperone her for her protection and now he verbally attacked her over her behaviour at dinner?
“What do ye mean, disregard everything.” She glared at him, hands on her hips. “I let a gentleman seat me. I didn’t slurp. I used me knife and fork properly. I watched me diction.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it,” he interrupted. “You practically
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